The Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds is about two people fighting to overcome what Fate has in store for them. Read an exclusive excerpt right here!

Jack and Kate met at a party and instantly bonded, but it wasn’t meant to be. When Kate dies, Jack must find a way to move on. Right?

Wrong. Instead, he’s hurdled back in time, to when they first met, and it’s up to him to find a way to stop the worst from happening.

The problem is that every choice comes with a consequence, and Jack will have to decide what–or who–he’s willing to give up in order to keep Kate alive.

Read an exclusive excerpt from ‘Opposite of Always’

Mall Talk

Three days before prom I’m at the mall trying on formal wear. But my primary functions are Jillian’s Chief Purse Guardian while she rifles through dress racks, and Franny’s Heckler as he models every suit in his exhaustive search of The One Suit Worthy of His Body.

“Kate’s not meeting us?” Jillian asks. We’ve just exited our two hundredth store, and Franny’s still empty-handed save for a pizza pretzel. You can’t shop on an empty stomach, Jack, he’d said. If you’re hungry, you make rash decisions.

I shake my head. “She has an appointment she couldn’t get out of.”

Franny slaps at my department-store bag, laughing. “Probably for the best. Otherwise she’d discover just how color-blind you are!”

“Leave him alone,” Jillian says.

“Thank you, Jillian,” I say.

“Personally, I think it’s cute that Jackie hasn’t learned his colors,” Jillian says.

“Wow. I really hate both of you,” I say.

And maybe I wasn’t excited about prom before—because, you know, it involves dancing and girls and maybe dancing with girls—but thanks to Kate, I’m starting to come around.

Orchid

I know little* about flowers.

*Nothing.

So, I ask Mom to help me pick Kate’s corsage—because 1) it’ll make Mom happy and 2) where do you even buy corsages?

We walk up and down the greenhouse rows.

Finally, Mom stops. “This is the one,” she says. She holds the brightest yellow flower I’ve ever seen.

“Perfect,” I say.

Ten minutes later, we’re driving home, the orchid balanced in a clear box on my lap.

Mom glances at me across the seat. “Jackie?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

Her hand leaves the steering wheel and she wipes her eyes.

I smile at her. “Mom, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re having orchid remorse. We can go back and get the tiger lily. It’s not too late.”

“You’re a fool,” she says. She laughs through her tears. “Nothing’s wrong.” She ruffles my hair with her fingers, and I think about all the times she sat on the floor beside my bed,
her fingers running across my scalp—nights I’d begged her to stay until I fell asleep. “I’m proud of you, Jackie. Of who you’re becoming. Who you already are.”

And I just nod—say a soft “I love you, Mom”—because what else do you say to the woman who made you you?

“Kate’ll love your orchid, but it has nothing to do with the flower.”

“I love you, Mom,” I say again. This time not soft at all.

Exits

Dad’s in full paparazzi mode.

Shadowing me, taking pictures while I shave, brush my teeth, while I rifle through my sock drawer looking for my favorite pair.

“Jack, just look this way for a minute.”

“Dad, c’mon,” I beg. “When Kate gets here, this has to stop, okay?”

“I make no promises,” Dad says, winking. “Okay, now turn your head a touch to the right. Nope, nope, that’s too much. Go back a little. There, there. Now hold it. Keep holding . . . hold it.”

“My neck is in danger of breaking if I hold this any longer, Dad.”

Mom slides her arms around Dad’s waist. “You know your father lives for these moments, Jackie. Let him have his fun.”

I break pose. “I don’t want to infringe on Dad’s fun. I just don’t want it to be at my fun’s expense. You guys know I hate pictures.”

“But you’re so handsome,” Mom says. She steps away from Dad to pinch my cheeks.

I sidestep her reach. “Maybe I’ll just meet Kate out on the front porch.”

“Ha ha ha,” Dad says, feigning laughter. “I still don’t understand why you aren’t picking her up.”

“I told you, she’s staying at her folks’ house this weekend, and she said it didn’t make sense for me to drive all the way out there only to drive back this way. I tried convincing her, but she insisted.”

“Hmph,” Dad snorts. “Back in my day . . .”

“You didn’t have a car and it was the worst snowstorm the earth’s ever seen even though it was April, and you trudged thirty-seven miles without a decent coat. And you still picked Mom up for prom.”

“And he still showed up looking so sexy,” Mom adds.

Dad beams. “My suit was so wet and wrinkled. Remember your mom made me hang my jacket over the radiator before she’d let us leave?”

Mom laughs. “The look on your face when Dad said you had to ride up front with him while he drove us.”

“The man was completely unreasonable. Talking about ‘no funny business on my watch.’ Little did he know what was really going down on his watch . . .”

Dad pulls Mom into him, smushes a kiss onto her cheek.

Mom laughs, slaps at his hands. “Don’t give your son any ideas,” she says. “Bad enough he has your genes working against him.”

Mom turns to me, a look of concern on her face. “Jackie, you’ll be careful, won’t you?”

I know this conversation’s destination, and I’d rather not
make the trip. “Mom, please.”

“Don’t take any chances. Better to be prepared than . . .”

“Mom,” I say firmly.

“Listen to your mother,” Dad insists. “We’re too young and vibrant for grandparenthood right now.”

This is the blessing of being an only child: you have your parents’ undivided attention.

This is the curse of being an only child: you have your parents’ undivided attention.

“Everything’s covered, guys. Thanks for your incredible amount of uncomfortable concern.” I pull out my phone. Kate’s fifteen minutes late.

Dad reads my mind. “Maybe she needed gas.”

“I’m sure she’s on her way,” Mom chimes.

Fifteen minutes later, I shoot Kate a text.

ME: Hey, just making sure you’re okay. Hopefully you’re just working on CP time. LOL

Another ten minutes and nothing.

Mom calls from the kitchen. “Maybe eat a little dinner before you go, Jackie? Take your mind off things.”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

I dial Kate’s number and get her voice mail.

I call again, same result.

I take off my suit coat, drape it over the living room ottoman. No sense in letting it wrinkle. Take a seat beside Dad on the couch. He squeezes my shoulders, grunts his support. I grunt my appreciation back.

I hear a car pull into the driveway. I hop off the couch, pull the curtain away from the front window, only to see the car reverse and zoom away.

“False alarm,” I announce.

“Maybe call her house,” he suggests.

I shrug. “I only have her cell number.”

“You could try the phone book?”

I smile. “What’s a phone book?”

I call Kate and this time I leave a voice mail.

Thunder rattles the living room, rain falling in sheets outside.

My phone chimes. But it’s only Franny.

FRANNY: Time to turn up!! You ready to make some history, bro?!?!

I don’t reply.

I text Kate again.

Mom comes out of the kitchen balancing two dinner plates, sets them down in front of us, kisses my forehead, then Dad’s.

“Thank you, baby,” Dad says.

“Thanks,” I manage.

Dad spears a broccoli head. “Son, maybe you should go find her. Maybe you—”

But before he can finish I’m throwing on my jacket, slipping on shoes.

Mom materializes at the front door, the yellow orchid in one hand, her car keys dangling in the other. “Be safe, Jackie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say. I take the keys, the flower, and rush outside, forgetting that it’s raining elephants.

“Jackie, umbrella,” Mom calls after me.

But there’s no turning back now.

I’m soaked before I make it into the car.

And then I’m speeding past cookie-cutter blocks of cookiecutter houses and cookie-cutter yards. I merge onto the highway, rain slapping the windshield, puddles spitting away

from my tires.

My phone beeps.

JILLIAN: Where are you, man?! You’re supposed to hook up AFTER prom is over!!! LOL Hurry your ass!!

I lean into the gas.

I nearly miss the exit, swerving Mom’s car over two lanes, fishtailing along the median. But I make it. Still, part of me wonders, What are you doing, Jack?

What do you think is gonna happen?

You show up to her door and she answers—and then what?

Then what, Jack?

I don’t have an answer.

GPS on my phone screen, her address plugged in, I still pass her house. I turn around in a neighbor’s driveway.

There’s an opaque window on Kate’s front door; it’s mostly dark inside. It’s quiet, too.

My phone rings.

“Jack, I’m so so sorry,” Kate says into my wet ear.

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

A long pause. “I can’t go to prom. And I know this is sooo messed up, but I promise you if I could . . .”

“Did I do something, Kate? I don’t understand.”

“You did nothing wrong. I don’t know how to explain.”

“Just try. Try to explain.”

“I just wanted you to know . . . I’m so very sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say something, Kate. Because so far you haven’t said anything.”

“Jack . . .”

“Prom started two hours ago. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“So, you didn’t go?”

“We were supposed to go together, Kate. We were supposed to . . . where are you? Are you in your house?”

“No. Look, it’s a long story . . .”

“As it happens, I have a lot of time on my hands.”

“I have to go, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“Goodbye, Jack.”

“Wait, Kate—”

But she’s gone.

The curse of Almost strikes again. I lean against her front door and my legs give, my feet sliding forward. And I sit slumped against her door, wrinkled, confused, wet.

I prop the world’s brightest orchid against Kate’s door.

And as soon as I’m back in the car, the rain stops.

Because, of course.

Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds is available now! Order it from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound, and Book Depository, or add it to your Goodreads.