Read A Preview of OPPOSITE OF ALWAYS by Justin A. Reynolds

Epic Reads has posted a multi-chapter preview of the highly anticipated OPPOSITE OF ALWAYS by Justin A. Reynolds.

This preview of Justin A. Reynolds’ debut love story Opposite of Always allows readers to meet the endearing protagonist Jack King, and it really throws us headfirst into the story.

The book is highly anticipated from authors and readers alike. Angie Thomas, author of the iconic The Hate U Give, said: “One of the best love stories I’ve ever read.”

Check out the preview below!

How to Save No One
My face is mashed sideways against the trunk of a police cruiser when Kate dies for the third time. The box meant to save her life is smushed near my feet.
I’ve learned a few lessons along the way.
For instance: don’t waste time on clothes.
It’s cold out, easily sweater weather. I’m in short sleeves, plaid pajama shorts, and a pair of beat-up Chucks I wear to mow the lawn. The insides are damp, and there’s a clump of grass in my right shoe scratching my toes, but there wasn’t time for socks. Socks, and weather-appropriate attire, are a luxury. They take time. And I can’t waste any.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Because big lesson number one is this: all the time travel in the world can’t save the people you love.
45 Minutes Earlier
The police are already here.
A marked car, idling beside the emergency room entrance. There’s a chance they’re here for me, but there’s no turning back. Split seconds matter. I grab the small package sitting on the passenger seat and hop out of my car. I rip open the box, jam its contents into my sneaker. I pick up my pace.
I should’ve left earlier.
Should’ve done a hundred things differently this time around.
I push open the door, thinking, Get to the elevator, make it to the fourth floor, and then I run face-first into a concrete wall. Also known as colliding into three hundred pounds of beef and nightstick.
Ah, this must be the driver.
I nearly crumple onto the wet floor, except the officer snares me by my T-shirt.
“I got him,” he mumbles into the walkie holstered on his shoulder. “Back outside,” he orders me, pushing open the door, his other hand hugging his gun grip. “Come on, kid. Let’s go.” All sorts of things run through my mind—acts of valor, courage. I think about pushing past the officer and bolting for the stairs or slipping inside the elevator before it closes. But in the end my legs are spread apart, my hands cuffed behind my back.
Part of me thinks, wonders, hopes: maybe this is it. This is the solution. I’m not supposed to be there. If I’m not there, she’ll live.
They rattle off my crimes, and after breaking and entering, I stop listening. I don’t bother trying to explain, because how do you explain you’re from the future?
“. . . you understand your rights,” they say more than ask.
I nod, the aluminum trunk cool and sticky against my cheek.
“You have anything on you? Weapon, drugs, or the like?” the large officer asks.
“No,” I lie. Because I can’t tell the truth. Not now. Rough hands slide up and down my body. My keys jingle as he fishes them out of my pocket. Then he removes my wallet.
“Nothing interesting,” the large officer says to his female partner.
“Have him take off his shoes?” she suggests.
And my knees nearly buckle.
“Please,” I plead, “just let me go inside. My girlfriend’s dying. Check with the doctors, her nurses. Please. Just five minutes. Please. A heart, have a heart. Just let me see her for five minutes and then you can haul me away to prison, throw away the key, whatever. Please. Think of your kids. Do you have kids? If they were dying, would you want them to be alone? Please. Please.”
I try dropping to my knees to beg, but it’s tricky when you’re being physically restrained. The officer who put the cuffs on me looks over to the other one, a dirty-blond-haired woman with bloodshot eyes, and she sighs in that studied way that all mothers must learn on the first day of Mom School. But then she nods her head. And the cuffs come off.
Which is beyond crazy.
“Don’t be stupid, kid,” he says in a voice that makes me think he thinks I’m going to do something stupid.
“Five minutes,” she says. “That’s it.”

Continue reading here,and don’t forget to pick up Opposite of Always on March fifth!