Book Never Too Far Novels & Stories

It all just happened for no concrete reason. "Yes." Hyomi ventured to look at other people. "My best friend once promised me." For a moment she shifted her gaze to the scene in front of her while snorting softly, feeling a great sense of disappointment. "But he left without saying goodbye and without keeping his promise to take a vacation to Eco Land."

She seems nervous. I frown, "Okay, Mom." She opens the door to a room, and I'm speechless, it's not white, it's a deep maroon color. The room is bigger than Lacey's, and that's something I didn't think could be possible. There's a sofa in the corner and beside it is a small bookcase. Walking into the room, I walk over to the bookcase and run my fingers across the spines of the books that are there. Mom went all out. She bought books from my favorite authors. Nora Roberts, Harper Sloan, Carly Phillips, and of course E.L. James. I love the story of Christian and Ana, it's such a beautiful love story.

Chad stood near the front, craning his neck to see what was happening inside. I stood there, watching the four of them with zero emotion. Then I noticed something weird—bright red numbers floating above their heads. At first, I thought my eyes were messing with me. I blinked hard, but nope, the numbers were still there, sharper now, hovering like neon signs. Curious, I stepped closer. Beneath each number was this little line of text: The lower the regret value, the weaker the familial bond. I glanced around the room. Everyone had numbers. The people crying the hardest had regret values between 90% and 100%.

Feel welcomed to check out my other book. Much love❤

Instead, my hand moved to the inner pocket. My fingers brushed against something hard and plastic. I pulled it out, expecting a gym pass or a protein bar wrapper or worse, a condom wrapper. I shivered at the last thought, ew! But it was a small, leather-bound notebook. I knew I shouldn't open it. I knew I should put it back, return it with the jacket, and maintain my shred of dignity but curiosity has always been my greatest sin so I flipped the cover open. The first page was a date from three years ago. The day I left. Underneath it, in Noah’s jagged, aggressive handwriting, were three words that made the air freeze in my lungs:

Every moment is this. Without moment. This. The light that is. The love that is. The being that is. The this that is. Only this. The book never opened. Because there was no cover. The book never closed. Because there was no ending. The book was the opening. The book was the reading. The book was the read. All one. Without one. This. The final chapter is not final. There was no first. There was no sequence. Only this. Appearing as sequence.

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

Leo's voice was distant I didn't realize how far I had walked I turned and headed back loosing the large book as it took a slow turn at the end of the farthest shelf there were only 3 books next to my bag and a note pad with a sleek silver pen that appeared too "let me guess I cant take any of these books out with me?" Leo didn't open his eyes to look at me but he nodded "If you want to live, I wouldn't try it" He wiggled his hand with his pointer finger at me back and forth

"Go on and get to that couch. Those damn medical books came in today and I for one am tired of tripping on them. I laugh and walk towards the living room. I ordered new editions of medical books I was interested in. Grandma called me a nerd, mom laughed, and Rodger told me to go for it. It felt good having a father figure in my life that not only believed in me, but made sure I knew he did. When I get to the living room I hear a faint sound of a song. I stop in my tracks and look around but can't see where it is coming from. The sounds become a little louder and I hear the unmistakable sound of Nickelback's Far Away, my favorite song.

My eyes shut briefly. Of course. I turned. Andre stood a few feet away, leaning slightly against the wall like he’d been there longer than I realized. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered. A loose shirt hung off him, unbuttoned at the top, sleeves pushed up carelessly. His gaze moved over me once. Just once. But it was enough. “Didn’t realize Yale started admitting drowned students,” he said. Same tone. Same indifference. Like nothing had changed. Like that night—whatever it was—had never happened.