Never Letting Go Read online

  Never Letting Go

  Never Series Book One

  Kristin MacQueen

  Published by Kristin MacQueen, 2019.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Never Letting Go (Never Series Book One)

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Chapter One | Frankie

  Chapter Two | Noah

  Chapter Three | Frankie

  Chapter Four | Noah

  Chapter Five | Frankie

  Chapter Six | Noah

  Chapter Seven | Noah

  Chapter Eight | Frankie

  Chapter Nine | Noah

  Chapter Ten | Frankie

  Chapter Eleven | Noah

  Chapter Twelve | Frankie

  Chapter Thirteen | Noah

  Chapter Fourteen | Frankie

  Chapter Fifteen | Noah

  Chapter Sixteen | Frankie

  Chapter Seventeen | Noah

  Chapter Eighteen | Frankie

  Chapter Nineteen | Noah

  Chapter Twenty | Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-One | Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-Two | Noah

  Chapter Twenty-Three | Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-Four | Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-Five | Noah

  Chapter Twenty-Six | Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-Seven | Noah

  Chapter Twenty-Eight | Frankie

  Chapter Twenty-Nine | Noah

  Chapter Thirty | Frankie

  Chapter Thirty-One | Noah

  Chapter Thirty-Two | Frankie

  Chapter Thirty-Three | Noah

  Chapter Thirty-Four | Frankie

  Chapter Thirty-Five | Frankie

  Chapter Thirty-Six | Noah

  Chapter Thirty-Seven | Frankie

  Chapter Thirty-Eight | Noah

  Chapter Thirty-Nine | Frankie

  Chapter Forty | Frankie

  Chapter Forty-One | Miranda

  Author's Note

  Also by Kristin MacQueen

  Never Letting Go – The Never Series Book One

  First edition. October 1, 2019.

  Copyright ©2019 Kristin MacQueen.

  Written by Kristin MacQueen.

  Cover designed by Suite Six Studios.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by and electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  If you received a copy of this book from anywhere but Amazon, understand that it was posted without permission and is a pirated copy. Pirating is stealing. It absolutely hurts every author affected.

  Dedication

  To my hubby, I love you more than words can ever say... even though you won't read my books. Luvzoo!

  Playlist

  Never be the same- Jessica Mauboy

  Mary’s song – Taylor Swift

  Show you off – Dan + Shay

  She – Jake Scott

  I want us – The Roads Below

  Forever girl – Jon Langston

  Change your name – Brett Young

  Other girl – Filmore

  Me without you – Havelin

  By my side – Tyler Shaw

  To a T – Ryan Hurd

  Feel something – Landon Austin

  Breath – Taylor Swift

  Chapter One

  Frankie

  The moving truck pulls up in front of my childhood home. I’ve always loved this house but it’s hard coming back here after everything that’s happened.

  I wish I could go back in time, to before we moved away. Maybe I could convince my parents to stay, I should have fought harder to stay. Then maybe I’d still have my dad. My family wouldn’t be broken.

  Instead, the last time I was here, I cried as I said goodbye to my best friend. I packed up my whole life to move hundreds of miles for my dad’s new job.

  He was offered a position as homicide detective in a huge city where crime was on the rise. My dad was a super star detective, closing more cases than any other detective in the state. He was amazing. The perfect dad, until one guy decided he didn’t want to go to jail. He waited outside our house one morning and shot my dad in the chest the second he stepped out the door to go to work.

  The man was caught and put in jail, exactly where my dad was about to place him. Why did he have to kill my dad? Why did he have to take away such an important person in my life? He took a life for no reason. Two lives really, the woman he murdered because she wouldn’t date him and my fathers to avoid jail. I hope he rots there.

  My heart aches as my gaze finds the tire swing dad hung on the big maple tree in the front yard, the morning of my tenth birthday. It’s still there. I spent so much time on the swing, squealing with delight each time my dad pushed me higher and higher. His voice echoes in my head ‘Hold on tight, Kiki. Let’s see how high you can go.’

  “Come on, Frankie. We can't stand on the curb all day and stare at the house.” My mom gently grasps my elbow, pulling me towards the door.

  It’s so hard to be back here. When we moved away, my parents kept our house. My mom couldn’t bear the thought of selling. They decided to rent it out instead.

  My mom and I couldn’t continue to live in the city that took my dad’s life and decided to move back here. To my home town, my childhood home. The town my parents met, where they got married and were happy for the first thirteen years of my life.

  The familiar screech of the front door opening almost brings tears to my eyes. I don’t know if I can live in this house knowing my dad will never walk through the front door again.

  The second we step inside; my mom hurries off to direct the moving guys. I wander away when her voice calls over to me.

  “All of your stuff’s in your room. If you need help unpacking let me know, I'm gonna start down here first.”

  I nod before I turn towards the stairs and start my slow trek up them. My fingers trail along the smooth wood of the railing. I unconsciously avoid all the creaky spots I’ve memorized since I was a little girl sneaking down to the kitchen to get a snack at midnight. Mom would always hear me somehow. She’d meet me at the bottom of the steps with an amused smile then walk me back upstairs.

  I open the door to the bedroom I called mine for most of my life, pausing in the doorway. It looks the same yet so different. The furniture’s the same, same dressers, same bed, same desk and night stand. But I'm so different. I'm not the same girl I was when I left here four years ago.

  I wander over to the window and look out at the house next door. My best friend lived there. Technically he still lives there but I don’t think I can consider him a best friend anymore. We lost contact long ago. A few years is a long time to be away when you’re so young. I left the summer of eighth grade, right after I turned thirteen, now I'm starting my senior year of high school. Our lives are so different now. I know nothing about Noah.

  I press my palm against the cool glass and stare at his balcony. We used to have dry erase boards and we’d write notes to each other, holding them up to the window to talk back and forth. We didn’t have cell phones, or texting. We didn’t even call each other. We’d wait until the other person came to the window or on the balcony and we’d hold up our signs. Every once in a while, Noah would throw a pebble at my window to get my attention. The day we left was one of the hardest days of my life.

  ‘Please tell me it�
�s a joke.’ I shake my head, totally not a joke. I hate that I'm leaving. He erases his board before holding up a new sign. ‘You can’t leave me.’

  ‘I'm sorry.’ I hold up, a pout firmly in place.

  ‘Freshman year starts in 3 weeks.’ Noah holds up his sign, giving me a big pouty face of his own. I can't help but giggle at him, he looks ridiculous.

  ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘Then don’t go. You can’ He erases before holding up new words. ‘live in my closet, I’ll smuggle food.’

  ‘Parents notice if only child goes missing.’

  ‘You over estimate your importance to others.’ I can see the dimples appear on his cheeks as he tries to hide his smile. Noah’s always been my best friend, but lately something’s changed. I'm not sure what though. He seems sweeter, more caring, adorable with his chocolate brown hair falling over his eyes. His goofy smile full of braces.

  I stick my tongue out at him, he throws his head back, laughing.

  I'm pulled from my memories when a car pulls into Noah’s driveway, loud music blaring. A guy jumps out and heads straight to the door, but I don’t know who he is. My eyes stay fixed on the door until the light flicks on in Noah’s room, startling me. The guy walks in and his eyes lock on mine.

  Holy crap. Noah grew up.

  He’s not the goofy kid with the crooked smile and mouth full of metal anymore. He looks like a model. His chocolate hair is styled perfectly in this messy way. It’s not long anymore, short on the sides and just long enough on the top to style.

  I close my mouth and do my best not to let it drop open again as I stare at the man Noah’s become. I give him a little smile and wave but he doesn’t wave back. In fact, he scowls at me, marches over to his window and closes his curtains as quickly as he can. What. The. Hell.

  Chapter Two

  Noah

  I stomp back down the stairs and into the kitchen. I have so many questions swimming through my brain. There’s no way what I just saw’s real.

  “Mom!” I call as I round the corner and walk into the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, my shoulder leaning against the threshold, my arms crossed over my chest and my permanent scowl in place.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “Who moved in next door?” I cut straight to the point. I don’t have the energy to ask without actually asking. I'm not going to pussy foot around this, I need answers. I'm exhausted, coach made us run suicides forever at practice. A small smirk spreads across my mom’s face as she watches me. I roll my eyes; I just want to shower and go to bed but I need to know who moved in first.

  “The Valdo family moved back in today.” Her smile grows with every moment I stand here.

  The Valdo family. As in Frankie Valdo. As in my best friend who moved away and lost contact with me.

  “Why?” A harsh tone spills out with my words, I can't help it. “Why would they come back? That’s stupid.”

  Mom crosses her arms over her chest, narrows her eyes at me, a frown appearing on her face. Crap. I'm going to get a lecture.

  “I wish I could help you, Noah. I swear you become more closed off every single day and I'm not really sure when it got this bad but I don’t like it. I didn’t raise you to behave like this. You used to be such a sweet caring boy and you’ve turned into a cold heartless young man.”

  My shoulders sag and I drop my hands to my side. My gaze falls to the ground. She isn't wrong. I’ve become cold and heartless, but I don’t want to be. I don’t know how else to deal with what happened. When Frankie left, it destroyed me.

  “I'm sorry, Mom. You’re right.”

  “I know I am. What happened to make you feel the need to behave like this?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” I mumble. She lets out a long sigh and gives me a small nod.

  “I won’t push you but I'm here when you want to talk.” She turns back to cutting up vegetables for dinner, wordlessly dismissing me. They always say they’re here for me, I'm not sure how to go to them though, I don’t know how to open up to the people I love.

  I'm half way up the stairs when she calls out to me.

  “Noah?”

  I pause, turning towards the kitchen but I don’t head back down the stairs.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Her dad died. Please try to be nice.”

  “I’ll try.” I say automatically, heading back up the stairs.

  Frankie’s dad died? When? I don’t understand why they’d move back here just because he died.

  I walk into my room and head straight to the window. I pull back the side of the curtain, looking over at Frankie’s window. My heart breaks when my gaze lands on her.

  Frankie’s sitting on her floor, a snow globe in her hand, tears streaming down her face. I remember when she got that snow globe, it was Christmas morning a year or two before she moved away. She’s always been obsessed with snow globes; her parents bought her a new one every year for Christmas. This one, she loved more than any other. The way it’s designed, makes it look like a snow-covered town with the northern lights in the sky. It’s beautiful.

  There are boxes thrown all over her floor and bed. Random things in piles all around her. I guess they moved in today.

  I watch her pull something out of a box, her fingers trace over the edge like it’s the most precious thing in the world to her. I'm not sure what she’s holding though. She pulls out some sort of pen or marker next, scribbles something on the first item before staring longingly out her window. It almost looks like she’s looking directly at me but there’s no way. She can't see me, my room’s too dark with my black out curtains shut.

  She angerly swipes at her cheeks, pushing away her unwanted tears. She always hated being emotional, hated to let people see her vulnerable. She stands up and drops the first item on the balcony chair before walking out of her room.

  I squint, trying to make out what she threw on the chair. No way... it’s hard to believe she still has it. Laying on her chair’s her old dry erase board, the one we used to write notes to each other on. I squint a little harder.

  I miss my BFF.

  Chapter Three

  Frankie

  The first day of school comes way too quickly. I have no desire to go. I’ve been begging my mom for weeks to let me be homeschooled. I could easily do it. They have online programs now, it’s more like cyber school, she wouldn’t have to do anything. She told me no.

  Apparently, I’ve become too much of a loner since dad died. She thinks I mope around the house. Says I need to make new friends but honestly what’s the point? I’m a senior. Next year I’ll leave all these people behind and start somewhere new once again. I’ve known the kids in my school since kindergarten but we’ve all grown up. We’re practically strangers now.

  Like Noah and I. I don’t want to go to a school where I’ll see him every day but also know we’re nothing anymore. We aren’t friends, we aren’t acquaintances, we’re nothing.

  I check my appearance in the mirror one final time. My long brown hair’s straightened into a smooth curtain of hair. My makeup’s done lightly, just some eye liner, mascara and lip gloss. I threw on a pair of black jeans with rips in the thighs and knees, an olive-green fitted tank and a pair of black leather ankle boots. I even painted my nails to match my shirt.

  I grab my backpack, throwing it over my shoulder. I head to the kitchen, surprised to see my mom in there cooking a big breakfast.

  “Hey, sweetie, take a seat, breakfast’s ready.”

  “You don’t need to do this, Mom.” I say softly.

  “It’s a tradition. This is the last first day of school you’ll have before you move onto college. I couldn’t break the tradition.” Her eyes well with tears but she refuses to let them fall.

  We sit awkwardly at the kitchen table and pile food onto our plates. Not saying much, we’re both too stuck in our memories.

  The smell of bacon cooking pulls me down the steps, towards the kitchen. Dad’s stan
ding at the stove, flipping a pancake and scrambling eggs.

  “Grab a plate, you can't be hungry on your first day of school.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. It smells delicious.” I stand on my tippy toes and give him a kiss on the cheek. A large smile spreads across his face, making him look so much younger than he is.

  We all sit down at the table and begin to eat.

  “What classes are you most excited about for this year?”

  “Photography and art class. We’re going to be learning how to draw people and faces. I'm so excited, I feel like my art’s getting better and I can't wait to perfect my problem areas.”

  “What about core classes?”

  “I'm decent at English and history, excel at math but I'm a little worried about chemistry.”

  “I did well in chem, we can work together on it at night. We’ll make sure you ace it for sure.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I check my watch and realize I have to leave now if I want to have enough time to pick up Miranda on my way to school. “I have to get going, Miranda’s expecting me to pick her up.”

  “Good luck, baby girl. I know you’ll have a great day at school. Be careful driving.”

  “I will. Love you both!” I give each of my parents a kiss on the cheek before I rush out the door. Dad’s right, today’s going to be a great first day of school.

  “What classes are you excited about?” Mom asks softly. I know she’s trying to hold us together but the loss of dad seems so great today. I don’t want to answer her, I want to leave right now and pretend we never had a first day of school tradition but I can't, it’d hurt her too much. I take a deep breath and try to reign in my emotions.

  “I chose all art classes for electives. I'm excited to see what Willow Valley High has to offer for their advance art classes.”

  “What about core classes?”

  “I'm not really worried about any of them. I learned how to study and retain information in my harder classes.”