Nothings ever over, p.1
Nothing's Ever Over, page 1
NOTHING’S EVER OVER
NOTHING’S EVER SERIES
AMANDA LEE DIXON
ISBN: 9798215341698
First Printed Edition: 2022
Cover design by : MaryDes Designs
Website: www.marydesdes.eu
Editing Services by Silvia Curry
Website: www.silviasreading.webs.com
Copyright © 2022 by Amanda Lee Dixon
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resembles to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Author’s Note
Other Books by
Acknowledgement
About the Author
PROLOGUE
This is messed-up. I purchased a foreclosed home over a month ago at auction, completely unaware of the two squatters that took up residency shortly after their father, the previous owner, passed away.
“What the hell are you getting me into, Forest? This place is a dump.” Jay, my contractor, observes when we pull up to the two-story house. I wanted him to see the exterior to begin assessing the work that needs to be done while I deliver eviction papers to the squatters.
The decay and dilapidated state distracts most people from the size of the house. It’s huge with five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and an unfinished basement. There weren’t a lot of details provided at the auction, but I didn’t buy the place for the house, though it will eventually become my home. Currently, I’m living in a single story, two-bedroom home that works for me but doesn’t really have room to grow. Not that I have anyone in my life to share a home with, but it’s always good to be prepared.
I haven’t seen the inside—it’s my first sight unseen purchase—but once I saw the property and its surrounding land, with a giant shared pond, I knew I had to have this place. It called to me like no other place has before. I’ve always loved the outdoors, hiking, hunting, and fishing, only I never had any land of my own. With this land, I can fish from my own pond, I can hike through my own land, and I don’t have to seek permission before I do.
“The house isn’t pretty and will need some work, but look at all this land.” I scan over the overgrown grass and shrubs. “She’s got potential.” I smirk at him before grabbing the eviction and vacate letters before climbing out of my truck.
Evicting people from their home is my least favorite thing about my job as a property manager, but these two moved in after the house was sold to me. It was never theirs to begin with. They weren’t even living there when their father passed. Whatever their reason for taking up residency here is unknown, and I feel for them knowing they both just lost their father, but I was told they were offered the option to save the almost foreclosed house from the bank before it was brought to auction, and they declined.
“Those steps aren’t even attached to the porch,” Jay points out. “This place is falling apart.”
“She’s got good bones… at least that’s what I was told, but even if I have to tear the whole thing down and rebuild it, just having the land will be worth it,” I say, studying the porch steps for a good path up without breaking my neck.
My foot is in mid-air when the front door flies open, banging against the side of the house, and I stare down the barrel of a shotgun. “Get the fuck off my property!” A man yells, cocking the gun.
“Hey man, easy.” I hold my hands up. “I’m here to deliver this to Lance and Carl Kearney.” I wave the vacate letters in my hand.
“I said get off my land!” he yells, taking a step forward, coming out of the shadows, and I’m staring at a man with a crazed look in his eyes, his hair disheveled and greasy. His clothes are equally dirty and wrinkled.
“Okay, okay, we’ll leave. Relax. I’m just going to leave this here.” Slowly, I move to lay the paperwork on the porch steps.
“Don’t fucking litter on my land,” another man growls with a handgun trained on Jay. This man doesn’t look as crazed as the other, his clothes cleaner, his hair kept, but the way he shifts his eyes, watching the other man, he’s only following the crazed man’s direction.
“Okay. We’ll leave,” I repeat and take a step back. Jay is first to get in the truck, never turning his back on the two men.
“And don’t come back, either. I have the right to protect what’s mine,” the man with the shotgun says, and I look up as I’m opening my truck door. Our eyes meet and he narrows them before he shoots a few feet from the truck, rock and gravel peppering against me.
I know better than to engage. With my heart racing, I climb into my truck, not even putting on my seatbelt before I fire up my truck and speed away.
“Shit,” Jay wheezes when we’re a good mile away from the house. “This isn’t going to end well.”
Hopefully, he’s wrong.
CHAPTER ONE
LOCKLYN
One Year Later...
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I frown when I’m jarred awaked by my doorbell ringing. Grabbing my phone, I peer at the time as my doorbell continues to ring incessantly. Who rings a doorbell a million times at four in the morning? Rolling out of bed, I put on my satin robe and head for my front door. Whoever is here begins to pound on the door while ringing the doorbell. Since I became the only veterinarian in Peak Valley, getting emergency calls to help an animal is nothing new, but never have any pet owners shown up at my house.
Quietly, I peer through the peephole in the door. Surprised to see Sheriff McKnight, I quickly open the door.
“Sheriff, is everything okay?” I ask, pulling my robe tighter around me.
“Everything is fine, but I need to ask you to come with me,” he says, turning so I can see his police vehicle. “I have several of my men going over to your neighbor’s house to remove the squatters. For your safety, we would like to take you up the road.”
“Finally.” I nod with a yawn. I purchased my house four months ago, completely unaware of the neighbors… or I should say, squatters from hell living across the pond we share. Their house was in terrible shape, but my realtor told me it was purchased by an investor who plans to renovate it. She failed to tell me there were squatters refusing to leave the place. “Let me put on some shoes…” I move to the coat closet and slip on a pair of flip-flops before stepping out of my house and follow Sheriff McKnight to his police vehicle.
“As soon as we clear the place, you can return to your house,” he assures, opening the passenger door.
“Will your men be okay?” I pause getting into the vehicle, the gravity of the situation hitting me. The Kearney brothers are no strangers to guns, firing them off at all hours of the day and night. There was a time or two I heard a shot go off while out for a walk and couldn’t be sure if they were shooting for the fun of it or at me… maybe even both. Needless to say, I stopped going for walks around my property.
“They’re well-trained. They know what they’re doing,” Sheriff McKnight confirms, and I get inside, watching him walk around the vehicle and climb in. He speaks into his radio as he starts up the vehicle, but I tune it out, peering through the window and feeling a sense of relief. We drive down my driveway and up the road in silence. The sun isn’t even up when we stop next to an older truck sitting on the side of the road.
“Do you mind sitting with Forest, or do you want to stay with an officer?” Sheriff McKnight asks, pointing a thumb at the truck.
“Forest?” I stare out at the truck, unable to see who is inside.
“Forest James; he owns the house across the pond from you.”
“Oh, um… I guess.” I bite my lip, taking off my seatbelt as I suddenly realize just how little I have on as I climb out of the police vehicle. I only sleep in a tank top sleeper set, and my satin robe is thin. Hopefully, this won’t take that long.
Sheriff McKnight rolls his window down and speaks softly to the man in the truck as I make my way to the truck’s passenger door. Opening the door turns on the do me light in the truck, shining light on a man in his late thirties with a trimmed beard and shaggy hair that curls around his ears.
“Mornin.’” He smiles and I hesitate before climbing into the truck. Forest is a good-looking man and not at all what I was expecting. When I was told an investor had purchased the home, I had pictured a retirement-aged man, not a good-looking man in his thirties.
“Good morning.” I take a seat, wrapping my arms around my waist and wishing I took a minute to put on a bra before leaving with Sheriff McKnight.
“Coffee?” Forest picks up two travel coffee mugs, handing me one.
“Yes, please.” I sigh, taking the mug and sliding the lid open before savoring the nutty aroma. I prefer a little bit of cream to cut the bitter taste but in a pinch, I’ll drink it black—and I would definitely call this a pinch. Taking a tentative sip, I test the temperature before taking another sip. “This is so good, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m Forest James.” He holds out his hand, and I stare at it for a moment before taking it in my own.
“Locklyn Lawrence,” I say over the coffee mug, but he doesn’t immediately let go of my hand while we stare at each other. I try not to read into that, but it’s hard not to when my stomach does a somersault—a sensation I haven’t felt in a long time.
I ended my marriage five years ago when I learned my ex-husband John was sleeping around with other women far more sophisticated than I was. Women who fit into his idea of a lifestyle that was the polar opposite of what I wanted. I wore scrubs to work, smelled like the animals I worked with, and I enjoyed spending time outside; whereas he wore a suit to work and smelled like he was worth millions, and he would rather spend his time sipping cocktails at the popular high society bar.
When things ended, I didn’t think I would ever find another man attractive, and I more than accepted that. I swore off men completely. I had dreams I put aside because John was more passionate about his, and I was committed to our marriage. It was freeing to be able to make decisions of my own. To chase after my dreams and do things without fear of hurting my marriage or worse, being belittled for having them. It’s amazing how easy it is to live for yourself when you don’t have a cheating spouse holding you back.
“I heard you just moved in. Hopefully the Kearney brothers didn’t cause you any problems,” Forest says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“They caused me a lot of problems,” I admit, staring into the darkness. They scared me enough that I was seriously thinking about moving into town, but all the money I saved went toward buying my house and starting my animal clinic. I can’t afford a mortgage and rent.
“What did they do?” Forest demands, and I turn, seeing a fierce look on his face in the soft glow from his truck’s interior lights, making him even more attractive.
“Just a bunch of stupid stuff.” I try to shrug it off. Forest opens his mouth, ready to say more but doesn’t, and I’m grateful. Conflict can be triggering for me. John was a lawyer and knew how to win an argument while making you feel like you’re the problem. It turned me timid, almost reclusive in my thoughts. Even after all these years, I’ll do whatever I can to avoid conflict. “So, what do you plan to do with the property?”
Forest scans my face for a moment and the scrutiny causes my heartbeat to uptick. “I plan to renovate it and keeping it for myself. It’s just me though so it’ll be a lot of house just for one person.”
The house across the pond from my house is a giant two-story home—at least twice the size of my own—on a huge plot of land. Learning that it’s just him makes my stomach do another somersault.
Down girl. That doesn’t mean he’s single. “I’m sure renovations will take a while, do you plan to live there?” I am unsure if he is aware of the state the house is in. Not that I have seen it up close and personal, but I know the brothers have been dumping their trash in a pile behind their barn and on occasion, I’ve seen evidence they have been stealing power from me.
“No, I have a house in town. Assuming those assholes didn’t tear the place up beyond repair, it’ll be a while before I move in,” Forest grumbles, running a hand through his hair. I can see the stress in his eyes and can only imagine what he’s been through trying to reclaim his property.
“I promise I’m a good neighbor so hopefully, this is the last of your problems.”
“Good to know.” He smiles, and it isn’t lost on me that he has an amazing smile. “So what do you do, Locklyn?”
“I’m a veterinarian. I just opened an animal clinic about seven months ago.”
“The animal clinic off of Main?”
“Yes. Have I seen your pet?” I know I haven’t seen his pet because I would have certainly remembered him if he came into the office. How can you not? Forest is a handsome man, even in the dim morning light.
“No, I don’t have a pet, but I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”
“Well, you are in luck. I have a puppy in need of a home.” I perk up, thinking about Lucy, one of the puppies that was left in front of my office a few weeks ago. Her other littermates have been adopted, and I’ve been worried she wasn’t going to find a forever home.
Once again, Forest stares at me with a look that I can’t read, but I like how he focuses in on me. It isn’t like I’m under a microscope; it’s more like he’s trying to figure me out. “What kind of puppy?”
“She’s an all black lab mix. Very sweet. She’ll be a good companion.” I sell the little puppy. I planned to adopt her if no one claims her by the time she hits six-months-old. The only thing holding me back were the squatters from hell. They have proved multiple times they have no regard for innocent animals. I’d hate to put Lucy in harm’s way if there someone out there willing to give her a safe home. “Have you ever had a dog before?”
“No, I’ve never had a dog before, but I trust you. If you say she’s a good dog, then I’ll adopt her. Should I just come by the clinic?”
“Really? You want Lucy?” I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up photos of her. “I have pictures of her. She’s adorable, but she was the runt of the litter, so she’s on the small side.”
“Lucy is her name?” Forest asks, leaning in closer to look through the photos, and I can smell the subtle scent of his body wash, drinking it in.
“Yes, but if you want to change her name, you can. Here.” I hand him my phone. “This is a picture of her with her littermates.”
“I like her name.” He continues to scroll through my photos, but stops when he gets to a picture of the swans I had released soon after I moved into my house. “Are these your pets?” he asks, handing my phone back.
“They were. I released them on the pond, but they were shot…” I take the phone and tuck it into my pocket. I loved seeing those swans float on the pond in the early morning hours while I enjoyed my coffee before starting my day. It hurt finding them shot dead on the shore on my side of the pond. Two beautiful creatures killed senselessly.
“Was it the Kearney brothers?” Forest asks between clenched teeth.
“I can’t prove it…” I shake my head with a frown, hoping he can’t see the tears in my eyes as I turn to look out the window.
Forest places his hand gently under my chin and turns my head so he can look into my eyes. “I’ll get you more swans.”
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.” I shake my head, the gesture melting my heart. I often thought you could tell a person’s character by how they treated their animals, but that changed when I divorced John. He was great with animals, and just look how well that turned out.
“I insist.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear that causes me to shiver. “Are you cold?”
