The Space Between Heartbeats

By Melissa Pearl

Lost and dying in the forest, Nicole’s last hope is a classmate she used to bully. When her spirit leaves her body, searching for help, Dale’s the only person who can hear her. But can he find her before it’s too late?

Beautiful, wild-child, Nicole Tepper, is hit by a car and left for dead. But when she wakes the next morning, Nicole finds herself in bed without a scratch. Perhaps she was more intoxicated than usual, as her mother is giving her the silent treatment and her friends are ignoring her as well.

Things take a turn for the weird when Nicole soon discovers she is actually hovering between life and death. Her body is lying in the forest while her spirit is searching for anyone who can hear her. Unfortunately, the only person who can is Dale Finnigan, the guy she publicly humiliated with a sharp-tongued insult that has left him branded.

Desperate, Nicole has no choice but to haunt Dale and convince the freaked-out senior to help her. Will he find her body before it's too late? Or will the guy who tried to kill her with his car, beat him there and finish her off before anyone finds out?

This is a revised edition of The Space Between Heartbeats (previously published by Amazon Publishing and Alloy Entertainment LLC) and a new edition of Betwixt previously self-published by Melissa Pearl.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Pearl
• Release date: Oct 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781991034366

Melissa Pearl

Melissa Pearl is a romance author writing in a variety of genres from teen fiction to contemporary romance and romantic suspense. She also writes under the pen name Jordan Ford. She’s passionate about telling love stories with relatable characters who will take you on a journey. If you’re after an escape from reality, then you’re in the right place.Sign up for Melissa's mailing list and sample one of her books for free! http://www.melissapearlauthor.com/page/sign-up/www.melissapearlauthor.comEmail: [e-mail]

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1

Tuesday, 8:17 Pm

The mirror is being nice to me tonight. I turn to my side, smirking at my reflection and loving how great I feel in my new black leather miniskirt with the gold trim. It hugs my butt and makes my short legs look longer. My scarlet top has a deep V-neck that gives my small breasts a much-needed boost and my knee-high boots add the final touch. Trent won’t be able to take his eyes off me.

Smacking my glossy lips together, I check that my make-up is perfect before adding the finishing touches—a little bling to make me sparkle.

I open my jewelry box and rummage around the carved wooden chest, the gems and metals clinking together. Sliding on a couple of gold rings and my favorite pair of hoop earrings, I inspect my entire outfit and my smile grows a little wider.

Oh yeah, tonight is gonna be fire.

I giggle, about to shut the lid of the jewelry box when a long chain catches my eye. The laughter dies in my throat as I reach for the dull metal and pull the chain free.

Two dog tags swing from the end, back and forth like a pendulum until I capture them in my palm. I run my thumb over the indented words granite—rock hard and wince. I didn’t mean to keep this. In fact, I buried it, too ashamed to face those metal tags and remember what I’d done.

My lips tug at the corners like they maybe want to smile but can’t. Memories of the day I was given this necklace are both sweet and sour as I slip the chain over my head. I gaze into the mirror, running my fingers lightly down the metal then pressing the tags into my sternum. Emotion swells inside of me. It’s sweet at first—almost a yearning—but the jarring regret that follows is like acid in my mouth. I’m about to rip the necklace off when a car horn blasts outside.

I jolt and check the time.

Shit.

Snatching my jacket off the end of my bed, I shrug my leather bag over my shoulder and head downstairs.

My heels click a staccato beat against the hardwood floors, echoing through the living area. The curtains are drawn, cocooning my mother in darkness. She likes to lay low on nights when Dad’s working late, which is every night these days. Currently, she’s glued to some pathetic reality show and sipping at her white wine like it’s the only thing keeping her balanced. Maybe it is.

I breeze past her. See you, Mom. I’m out.

Where are you off to? Her aqua blue eyes don’t leave the screen.

Study group. I dart toward the front door before she can take a decent look at me. Thankfully she doesn’t notice what I’m wearing.

The dog tags hit my chest as I rush to escape. I gasp and quickly stuff them down my top, rearranging the fabric so the necklace is fully hidden away before jumping out the front door.

Amber double blasts her horn and I school my expression to the indifferent one that hides the fact I hate being late and the fact I’m accidentally wearing a cheap piece of jewelry that she will never understand. If Amber knew, she’d laugh and ask me why I haven’t thrown it into the bushes already. She’d probably force me to chuck those dog tags out her car window.

But I can’t do that.

As much as I want to, I can’t throw these damn things away.

And so tonight, I’ll keep them hidden until I get home and can bury them in the back of my jewelry box again.

I strut to the car, and Amber’s green, cat-like eyes skim over me as I slip into the passenger seat of her black Mini Cooper.

Hey, sexy thing. Her eyebrows shoot up in approval, her mouth quirking at the corner as I pull a pose for her. She laughs, putting the car into Drive. Nice attire.

You like? I point to my new outfit.

Me love. She touches my leather skirt. Where’d you get this?

Online, I say, adjusting my top so my seatbelt doesn’t wrinkle it. It’s a Marc Jacobs.

No way. Amber can’t hide the tinge of jealousy in her voice. How do you afford this stuff? I can’t even convince my mother that a $200 pair of shoes is reasonable.

I reach into my purse and pull out a shiny blue credit card. Amber leans over and reads—MITCHELL R. TEPPER.

Your dad is going to kill you when he finds out, she says with a grin, checking the road before pulling away from my house.

Yeah, right. I curl my fingers around the card. The guy is so clueless he’ll be searching the house for weeks before he even thinks to ask me.

What about the credit card statements?

I throw her a look. You’ve met my mother, right?

That shopaholic’s worse than you, Amber agrees.

Exactly. We’re in the clear, so let me know what you want. This is the delicate balance of our friendship—her jealousy will disappear if I buy her something new. A smile spreads across my face. Fancy a shopping spree in L.A. tomorrow?

Amber smirks. Nicole Tepper, you are such a badass.

Oh yeah. I hold the card next to my face and flash a wicked grin at my phone camera. I post the photo to Instagram and show Amber.

Watch out LA, I’m on my way. #retailtherapy #thanksdad

She bursts out laughing. You’re so busted if your parents see that.

Come on, my parents don’t even have Instagram on their phones.

Amber laughs a little harder and shakes her head. Getting into a little bit of trouble together is what the two of us do best. We’re partners-in-crime. The delinquent duo.

And I love that about us.

My forehead wrinkles, but I shake my doubt away as I lower my window and try to drink in the magical early evening light, the pale dusk sky is clear and beautiful. Even though Big Bear is a sleepy mountain town, sometimes I forget how gorgeous this place is.

I catch sight of Dale Finnigan further up the street and the happy buzz I’m trying for plummets. His dark curls are swept back as he jogs down the winding road toward his house. Sweat soaks through the back of his T-shirt… and my dog tags start to feel like a noose.

Oh man, check it out. Finnigan’s trying to get fit. Hilarious. Amber leans across to yell out my open window. Nice try, freak!

I slump in my seat wishing for the power of invisibility but unable to take my eyes off Dale.

He keeps staring straight ahead. He’s so strong that way. So dignified. I don’t know how he does it, but he must have access to some kind of bully-resistant armor or something, because no matter what my friends call him, he never flinches.

See you later, Scarface! Amber lets out an evil giggle as we zip away from him. I cringe and glance out the back window. Dale stops beneath the streetlight, tucking the curls behind his ear and revealing the gruesome scar that runs down his cheek. He looks up and for a horrifying second our eyes meet. I whip back to face the front, my insides burning as I try to quell the writhing sensation in my stomach.

What a freaking loser, Amber’s still laughing like a villain and for some reason I can’t take it tonight.

A little mean, don’t you think? I try to keep my tone light, although it’s an effort not to snap at her.

Amber scoffs. That’s rich, coming from you.

I clench my teeth, hating that she’s right. To say I’ve been mean to Dale is an understatement. And so the writhing in my belly continues, making me nauseous and grumpy. So much for the best night ever.

We stop to collect Penny, who’s decked out in a yellow dress that makes her sleek black hair and dark eyes pop. As soon as she gets in the car, Penny starts chatting about some celebrity who’s trending because she was caught cheating at her boyfriend’s birthday party. I’m usually into this stuff, or at least try to pretend that I care, but I can’t seem to do it. All I can think about is Dale’s stoic expression while he watched us drive away.

Okay, bitches. Time to study! Amber whoops as we pull up to Matt’s house.

Penny and I both laugh. It’s an ongoing joke with my friends. Study group is code for party time. When it comes to my friends, there isn’t a huge difference between school nights and weekends. If we’re in the mood to party, we’ll make it happen, no matter the night. And judging by the number of cars parked outside the house, it looks like everyone is in the mood to have some fun, even though it’s only Tuesday.

I scan the vehicles, recognizing a few and feeling both elation and irritation as I mentally check off the people who’ll be inside.

Oh great, Lauren’s here. I roll my eyes and hope she stays on the opposite side of the room to me. Although I doubt that will happen. We’re unfortunately friends with a lot of the same people, but there’s just so many things about that snooty cow that rub me up the wrong way.

Amber steps out of the car, her button nose wrinkling as she spots something over my shoulder. What’s Adam Hutton doing here?

I spin in time to see the tall blond step out of a sleek blue car. He’s like the all-American good boy with his letterman jacket and perfectly combed hair. Everybody seems to love him, which is why he gets away with running in multiple circles at our school, but we don’t see him in ours very often. He’s the resident basketball star and in the running for valedictorian. He’s usually too studious for the likes of us.

Maybe he needs a night off, I murmur.

A wide smile takes over Penny’s delicate Asian features. I don’t mind. I think he’s cute.

Pen, he’s a total study nerd. Amber’s glossy lips curl with disgust.

Yeah, a ripped study nerd with a sexy Mustang, Penny shoots back. I wonder if he’ll give me a ride home.

Please. Amber rolls her eyes. The car belongs to his mother. He probably has a curfew and will ditch before things get interesting . . . Her wicked smirk tells us what kind of night she’s in the mood for.

I grin and can’t resist teasing Penny. You could probably get a ride to school in the morning. She always drops him off on her way to work.

Penny’s cheeks blaze red, and I start to laugh. Like me, she’s allergic to most parents and the thought of her trying to talk to Adam’s mom cracks me up.

Besides, Adam is so not our style.

We always look for a little bad in our boys. In fact we pride ourselves on it, which is why I think the girls are jealous of me dating Trent.

He is one sexy beast with a badass attitude to match. Amber in particular loves guys like that. And I do, too. They are the perfect remedy; their wandering hands can make you forget anything.

I’ll end up in Trent’s arms later, but first I need loud music and a really strong drink.

Penny and Amber head out back while I go in search of Matt to say hi and get myself a beer. Our host is in the kitchen, wearing a fitted checkered blue shirt, a cowboy hat and the cockiest smile you’ve ever seen.

I laugh, loving what a clown he always is. Nice hat.

Well, howdy little lady. He tips it at me, his eyes sweeping my body. What can I get for you on this fine evening?

I laugh. Gimme a glass of your best.

He spreads his arms wide over a keg. Matty always delivers.

Plucking a red cup off a stack, I hand it to him, already starting to feel better.

He winks at me and starts to fill my cup.

So, where are the parentals tonight? I look around the cluttered kitchen, noticing the stacks of dirty dishes and empty takeout containers.

They must have been away for at least a couple nights. Matt’s family are almost as checked out as mine, which is why we tend to have study group at his place.

He snickers, keeping his Southern drawl going. The City of Angels, darlin’. Not due back until the morrow. He fills my cup to the brim and gives it back with another tip of his cowboy hat, his eyes lingering over my body for a much longer appraisal.

I gulp at my drink, forcing myself to hide the jitters running through me.

Nice skirt. His voice is husky now, the accent gone.

Thanks. I tug at the hem, inching it a little further down my legs. Trent around?

Matt’s eyes snap back to my face and he clears his throat. Your boy’s out back already. We’re congregating by the lakeside tonight. Drue’s getting a fire going.

Drue’s here? That’s a pleasant surprise. Drue’s one of our few friends with strict parents—his dad is Mayor Stratham and he’s paranoid about Drue tarnishing his squeaky-clean image. It makes it hard for Drue to join most of our study groups. Is his dad out of town?

The old tyrant’s on the east coast until tomorrow night. Drue’s taking advantage, Matt replies.

Smart kid. I down another mouthful of beer, then lick the foam off my top lip. I don’t love the taste of it, but I love the effect it has. Soon I’ll feel that numb vibe I love so much. The warm buzz can take the sting out of anything. I gulp down another mouthful.

Whoa, slow down there, sweetness. There’s plenty to go around. Matt winks at me again.

I swipe my mouth and giggle. You know me, never want to miss out.

He rests his foot on a stool and leans forward, his voice a low whisper, No way am I going to let you miss out on anything. You know I’d break necks for you.

I snicker and shake my head. Oh please, Matty. Like you could hurt a fly.

Hey! He stands straight, looking a little offended. I could hurt a fly if I wanted to. He points at himself. You just haven’t seen my dark side yet. I can be a tough badass like your boyfriend. His earnest look makes me laugh. He’s such a clown, and aside from the fact he’s harboring a not-so-secret crush on me, he’s one of my favorites.

Matt shakes his head and snatches another cup off the stack, pretending to be mad. He mutters something under his breath while pouring himself a beer.

I’ll see you outside, Matty.

He waves me out the back door and I head for the steps to the lakefront.

The smell of the smoky bonfire wafts into the clear night air, conjuring sweet memories from my childhood. We used to go camping all the time and my dad would always make his specialty s’mores, the marshmallows melted to perfection. My sister Jody and I would fight over who got the first one and eventually he started making two at a time.

I take another sip of my beer and glance up at the sky. The stars are out now—twinkling, bright jewels on a black canvas.

Pretty, I murmur and descend the back steps.

There look to be about twenty of us gathered down by the lake, a decent-sized group. Trent is on the edge of the party, his back turned to me. He’s tall and stands out from the crowd. His size is one of the many things I like about him. I fit under his arm so perfectly and I love the way his large hands wrap around my waist or splay across my back.

Making my way through the dewy grass, I stop short before he sees me. A girl with dirty blond hair and a sultry smirk is practically hanging off him, her fingers pressed against his arm.

Lauren. I narrow my eyes.

Her head tips back in laughter and she thrusts her chest at him, her hot pink bra pushing out of her top. She’s the world’s biggest flirt, and she always goes after Trent. I don’t understand what this girl’s problem is—she knows that Trent and I have been dating for a few months, but anytime we’re in a group situation, she latches onto him. The little leech. I can’t decide if she genuinely wants my boyfriend or if she’s just trying to annoy me.

The last thing I’m going to do is show her how pissed I am. I strut toward them, pasting on a smile.

Hey, guys. I thread my arm through Trent’s, pulling him down to me and rising on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. I make it hot enough to get a moan out of him before easing back. He sucks my lower lip and gives me his hungry eyes.

And now I’m queen again.

Lauren can go jump in that freezing cold lake for all I care.

Unfortunately, she ignores my pointed look and stays where she is. Her smile is caustic as she crosses her arms over her body, the gold bands on her wrist clinking. "Trent was just telling me about the time you guys went skinny dipping and were busted by those two old fishermen. That must have been so humiliating."

My cheeks burn and I’m thankful it’s dark out. I can’t believe he told her that story. I gulp my beer. The snakes in my stomach are starting to move again and I’ll do anything to kill this writhing sensation.

Trent’s long arm slides down my back, and he gives my butt a squeeze before pulling me close. I lean into him.

He smirks. Fun times, right, baby?

Oh, yeah, definitely. He buys my lie and fake smile, just like he always does.

He’ll never see me, not really, and that’s just the way I want it.

Finishing off my beer, I hold the empty cup and wish for an instant refill. I need it tonight. As many as my body can handle.

Here you go. Matt hands me a fresh cup and I laugh, swapping it out for my empty one.

The host with the most! Trent grins, taking a fresh cup as well.

That’s me. Matt wiggles his eyebrows before heading back inside to pour more drinks.

I watch him go, then squeeze my boyfriend around the waist and turn to the fire, staring at the open flames like they can somehow save me. This world I live in now, it’s so different to the one I used to know.

The dog tags stick to my skin and that deep longing stirs inside me again.

Chugging my beer, I beg for oblivion and try to ignore that echo in the back of mind—the good memories I can never relive tainted by the bad ones I can’t forget… like the soul-shattering sound of a young girl screaming my name.

2

Wednesday, 7:15 Am

N icky!

The first thing I register is the morning sun, harsh and unrelenting even through the drawn curtains. My head feels like it’s filled with sludge and someone is using my brain as a kick drum.

Awesome.

Beneath me, the bed is about as comfortable as a pile of rocks. My muscles ache and I groan as the rest of my bedroom blearily comes into focus.

Nicky, Mom yells. You’ll be late.

I look at my bedside clock, the red numbers fuzzier than usual. 7:15 am.

Wait, what?

I lurch up, adrenaline surging through me. I hate being late for anything. It’s an old irritation, formed from years of trying to get my perpetually tardy sister out the door. I try to move off my bed, but I’m pretty sure someone has shoved an axe blade between my temples. I clutch my aching skull and moan.

My palms are clammy, and I realize I’m still wearing my miniskirt. In fact, I’m wearing all my clothes from last night, my top now slightly wrinkled from sleep, my boots viselike on my calves.

My mouth goes dry—why didn’t I at least take off my boots?

What time did I even get home? It must have been stupid late if I just fell onto my bed fully dressed.

Ugh. I wish I could remember.

The way my brain is pulsing, I’m guess I had a few too many beers, which also explains why last night is a total blur.

I squeeze my neck, my pinky catching on a metal chain. Oh, that’s right, the dog tags. They’re pressing against my skin, turning my insides sour.

Why did I put them on?

I glance across the room and remember that I was about to take them off, but Amber was beeping her horn and it distracted me, then I got into her car, we picked up Penny and went to Matt’s house. I saw Trent with Lauren—ugh!—and then . . . nothing.

I cringe and rub my forehead. I swore after last time, I’d never let myself do this again. I hate this feeling. Forgetting a night is always so unnerving, no matter how many times it happens. It makes me feel like. . .

An alcoholic.

I press my lips together, fighting back embarrassed tears when my mother opens the door without knocking. Nicky?

I give her a stony glare. Mom, I’ve asked you to call me Nicole. It’s what you put on my birth certificate, remember?

My mother takes one look at me and scowls. Shaking her head, she walks out the door without saying a word.

Typical.

I want to yell at her to come back and at least respond. She’s never once asked why, for the past two years, I’ve insisted she stop calling me Nicky. But what’s the point. It’s not like I’ll ever have the guts to tell her. Our family doesn’t talk about their feelings, and I should be happy about that.

With a groan, I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

Unable to ignore my headache, I stand slowly, desperately trying to remember what happened last night.

I was at Matt’s house. Penny and Amber were there—and Drue, maybe?

Flashes of firelight and music spin through my mind.

Hands. Lips. Laughter. A moan.

Rubbing my temples, I try to piece my memory back together, but I can’t. My head is killing me.

Ugh. I need Advil or a shot of adrenaline, maybe?

Glancing at the clock on my nightstand, I wince. Shit. I am so late.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I grab my bag off the bed beside me and rummage through it, finding my compact mirror. My hair looks a little ratty, the dark locks limp on my shoulders. I grab my brush and tidy it up before pulling out my gloss. I make my lips shine, then smack them together. I still look a little pale and my mascara is starting to slide, making the dark circles beneath my eyes look even worse. I lick my index finger and tidy them up.

Glancing at my bedside clock, I decide I don’t have time for much more. I pull my long bangs down to cover my left eye a little then poof up the back of my hair. Time won’t allow me perfection this morning.

Frowning, I dig back through my bag. Where the hell is my phone?

I need to call Amber to come pick me up. I look at my watch and grimace. She’s probably already at school anyway. If she doesn’t hear from me by seven, she always