GOING BACK TO THAT TOWN felt like I had completely failed at life. With each mile my BMW inched closer to my parents’ house, the tighter the fear gripped my chest. I had made the right decision when I left Charlotte in the middle of the night. When I woke my parents at almost one in the morning and sobbingly replayed the night’s events, they made the decision easy. They wanted me home as much as I wanted to be out of there. I went back into that room, covered the emergent bruises as best I could, then packed as much as I was able to carry into a few bags and fled.
My skin recoiled when I thought about it for too long. The sound of glass shattering echoed in my memory. No, too much had happened to be able to stay there. I tried to shake off the dread that had buried itself deep in the center of my chest. Instead, I focused on the humid late spring air blowing through my hair in the hope of settling my nerves.
It had all been too much and not enough time for my mind to process what happened.
Last night my roommates decided to throw an impromptu graduation party, even though graduation wasn’t until the end of next week. Every Thursday they found some ridiculous excuse to party. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a stick in the mud; I loved a good time and could hang with the best of them, but not like these girls. They partied for all the wrong reasons and they always felt the need to invite the frat boys. Like a pack of wild hyenas looking to pick off the weakest in the herd, they always waited for the first poor, unsuspecting freshman to drink too much. I wasn’t the weakest in the herd and last night was no exception.
Stephanie, Nicole, and Jillian were good girls that wanted the attention of the rich, frat-brats, as I called them. I allowed myself to be closer to Nicole than any of the others, but she was still just an acquaintance. You can’t get hurt if you don’t put yourself out there. Sure, I had real friends back at home and I had made one true friend at college, but trust didn’t come easily after my best friend’s betrayal. With the exception of a short list, I only kept acquaintances. It was easier that way. However, Anna, my now best friend, wasn’t having any part of it. She basically claimed me like an orphaned kitten. I was resistant in the beginning, but she dragged me around everywhere. I couldn’t help but love her.
Steph, Nicole and Jillian were there to get degrees in business, but in reality, were looking for what they saw as an easy life being a trophy wife. Where better to look than the boys whose parents had their names on the buildings at the University of North Carolina in Charlotte and were already accepted to a law or med school. Cushy.
My fuel gauge dinged, indicating I needed to find a gas station. My tank wasn’t the only thing empty. I released the steering wheel, rubbing my stomach as it growled its discord but in doing so I aggravated my aching ribs. Once the next exit came into sight, I glanced at my mirrors, tapped the blinker and changed lanes. I pulled off Interstate Eighty-five just past the North Carolina-Virginia border in South Hills.
Rays of sunlight peeked through on the horizon as my BMW coasted off the exit, slowing to a halt at the nearest gas station. It might have been smaller than most, but it looked clean. Making the drive back and forth between my hometown and Charlotte, I had come to appreciate a clean restroom.
The exceptionally warm May weather happened to be perfect for a drive up to Maryland with the top down on my silver, two-door convertible. Shifting into park and releasing the seat belt, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror before getting out. My makeup still camouflaged the bruises and scrapes. I reached over to the passenger seat, careful of my ribs and grasped the top of my purse, slipping it up my forearm. My fingers lingered on the door handle as I stopped to look around. I took notice of my surroundings before I opened the door and climbed out, groaning a little as my muscles had stiffened during the drive. I had been careless with my safety once; it was not an experience I ever wanted to repeat.
The white, fluorescent lights above buzzed as I walked around the back of the car, the broken concrete crunching under my flip-flops. It was relatively warm for six in the morning, so when I hit the road, I left the top down. I had to turn the heated seats on, but I needed the feel of the wind on my face to help settle my frazzled nerves. My entire life had been upended and scattered on the floor in shards of broken glass. I wasn’t sure I would ever be the same after last night.
Once I started to fill the tank, I slowly leaned back on the side of the car and got lost in my own head. I kept seeing him. Not moving. The events replayed like an old movie reel. My skin tingled and the hairs on my arms stood on end. I reached up and ran the tips of my fingers across the skillfully covered bruise. I pushed away the threatening tears and told myself to lock it down. I did not have time to fall apart. I was strong, I could get through this. I would get through this.
The pump’s auto-shutoff banged, startling me, and yanked me from my thoughts. I returned the pump handle to the cradle, glanced around, then put the gas cap back on. I was exhausted and hungry. I pressed the button for a receipt then headed inside to find some snacks to hold me over. There wasn’t anything decent to eat that early in the morning on the desolate exit.
Ten minutes later, I pulled back onto the interstate and continued my journey home with a cold soda, a Krispy Kreme donut, and a bag of trail mix.
Sure, it had always been my dream to have my parents watch me walk across the stage at a big fancy college graduation, but dreams change. Sometimes life was more important.
In that instance, it was.
* * *
Almost nine hours after leaving Charlotte, I pulled off the exit, my nerves almost shot. My normal eight-hour journey had an hour added to it when I hit Washington, D.C. at rush hour traffic. North East was a relatively small town situated at the top of the Chesapeake Bay. Less than four thousand folks made up the population, mostly farmers or fisherman. The one lane Main Street ran through the middle of town, only backing up for a parade, a fishing tournament, or boating season.
My parents lived on the outskirts in a two-story contemporary home. Their house was the perfect getaway, hidden from neighbors by four wooded acres. Edged with wrought iron fencing, my father spared no expense when my mother dreamed of a home she could live in forever.
Driving through town just before noon, I passed the ice cream shop that we used to go to every Friday night after the high school football games and then passed the first bar I drank in. All of the good times flooded my memories and made me smile. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that little sleepy town.
Another five miles, I turned onto the long winding road my parents lived down. Cruising down the oak-tree-lined road, I found a reprieve from the scorching sun that had beat down on me as I crawled through town at twenty-five. As I came around the bend, right before my parents’ driveway, I passed by the O’Loughlin farm. Toward the back hayfield, near the woodline, I could see a horse cantering.
My heart fluttered at the thought. I grew up riding on that farm. Nothing made me feel more at peace than the feel of leather in my hands and being in the saddle. The O’Loughlin brothers, Storm, Cooper, and Ashton, also grew up there. Ashton and I were the same age and before I left for college, he was my closest friend. Storm was the big brother I always wanted, constantly teasing me but fiercely protective at seven years older than me. Strong and ruggedly handsome, Storm was the smallest of the three and yet somehow the biggest pain in my butt.
Then there was the middle brother, Cooper.
The first boy I had a crush on; the first boy’s name I doodled in a notebook. He was my every fantasy in high school, but he never noticed me. As a senior, to my freshman year, and captain of both the football and baseball teams, he had all the girls in school fawning over him. My heart still fluttered at the thought of him. He could have had anyone he wanted, but he chose her.
The biggest bitch in school.
The fakest person in this town.
And the sluttiest girl in the county.
Maggie Smith.
Releasing my angry death grip on the wheel, I pressed down on the center, honking as I drove past. If Ashton was out there, he’d be in my driveway within the hour.
Sure, I knew he had a crush on me, but he happened to be my best friend. While I had given thought to being with him once upon a time, I knew in my heart it would never work. He was just Ashton and would always be my rock, but not someone I could be with, in the way he wanted. Don’t get me wrong, he was handsome with his toned arms, slightly crooked smile, and adorable dimples, but he was Ash. We grew up playing in the same mud puddles and falling off the same horses. We were like twins, only a few weeks apart in age.
Flicking the turn signal up, I turned the car into the driveway. The gates were open, as they normally were during the day if someone were home. Home. Behind the safety of the gates, all my fraying nerves, I had tried to keep under control, relaxed a little more.
Once through the barrier of dense foliage, the house came into view. Stacked fieldstone clung to the exterior and was offset by pewter concrete and natural timber wrapping the garage. Set behind the house was a matching two-car detached garage with a large loft above. With the clean lines of the painted steel beams and transparent walls of floor to ceiling glass, my parents’ home should have been in a magazine or on display, not hidden away.
Pulling up in front of one of three garage bays, I put the car in park and pushed the off button, killing the engine. Reaching up, I flipped the visor down and took a second to check myself once more. My make-up remained in place, despite the long hot drive. My hair was another story. Even in a ponytail, high upon my head, it looked like a rat’s nest. As long as the bruises didn’t shine through, I was good.
I didn’t need to see remnants from last night’s . . . incident, the memories were enough. My mind fought to push away the trauma, but my sore muscles and bruised skin kept it in the forefront. The emotional assault might have been as bad as the physical. The angry, sadistic eyes that bore into me as he stalked toward me across the room were all I could see when I closed my eyes.
My disturbing recollection was disrupted by the lush greenery swaying in the gentle breeze. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply. The hint of honeysuckles calmed my thoughts as I listened to the sound of dry, crunchy leaves rustled along the ground in the nearby woods. I forced myself to think about all the things I did right. I would not be his victim, nor anyone else’s. I fought, I kept reminding myself.
My fingers found the handle and pulled while my barefoot simultaneously pushed the door open. Sliding out from behind the steering wheel, my feet hit the paved drive and I stood. Immediately I danced, squealing.
“Shit! That’s hot!” Bouncing from the ball of one foot to the other, I quickly snatched the flip-flops from the floorboard where I had kicked them off a hundred or so miles ago. I hadn’t expected the ground to be so blistering.
Dropping them to the pavement, I slid my slightly scorched feet into my flip-flops, sighing in relief. Stretching my arms above my head, twisting my torso, I bent in half and stretched my stiff muscles. Kneeling on my right knee on the driver’s seat, I reached across to the passenger side floor and picked up my purse. Digging in the bottom, I found my phone and powered it on. I’d turned it off when I stopped in South Hills. The incessant chirping of alerts and notifications were enough to drive me insane.
“Oh, baby girl, I thought you’d never get here,” my mom’s voice echoed, startling me.
“Geez, Mom!” I huffed as my cell flew out my hand and landed on the leather seat. My head spun to face my mom as my hand flew to my chest, my heart racing beneath my fingers. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Oh, stop. You’re not gonna have a heart attack. Now, stand up and give me a hug. I’ve missed my favorite daughter,” Mom said, waving her hands as she waltzed up to the driver’s door while I picked the phone back up.
“Har-har, Mom. I’m your only daughter,” I replied, stepping back out of the car and into her open arms. “Easy . . . my ribs.” Feeling her warmth close in around me, I felt safe and the flood gates opened. My mom, only slightly taller than me at five and a half feet, had the same dark blonde hair, only she wore hers shorter. For as long as I could remember, it had always dusted her shoulders. Other than her pale, fair skin, I was the spitting image of my mother. I was blessed to have my father’s Cherokee complexion.
“Don’t you think you should go to the ER to get checked out?”
“No. I’m just sore. I took some ibuprofen before I left,” I told her, sniffling back tears. “I don’t think it’s as bad as I thought earlier when we talked. The pain’s eased up, but I definitely need more ibuprofen.”
“I got you, honey. You’re okay now,” my mom whispered into my hair as I held onto her and cried. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise. Daddy will make sure of it.” Mom rubbed her soothing hand over my back, letting me get it all out.
“What if,” I started to say, pulling away from her. I had all these fears that I had yet to even acknowledge. He could have died. I was terrified he’d get better and come after me for exposing what kind of man he was. Or worse, he would die as result of what happened in that room.
“No,” she said sternly, her hands held mine and she shook her head. “We aren’t doing what ifs. This was not your fault, no matter what those horrible girls said. You did nothing wrong.” She wiped away my tears. Her confident words almost made me a believer. In my mind, I knew what I had to do to survive, but in my heart, I had hurt someone; almost killed them.
A distant clip-clop grew louder and pulled us from our conversation. Wiping away the tears, I turned to see my childhood friend riding up the driveway on a large gray dapple Thoroughbred that I would have recognized anywhere, Peaches.
Ashton. Looking as handsome as ever, he hopped down, leaving the horse unattended and sauntered over in his I’m-Ashton-look-at-me way. It had been two years since I had seen him last. He looked exactly the same and completely different. His arms and chest had thickened but still had the same warm smile and gentle hazel eyes. His hair was shaggy with a bed-head style that hung in his eyes.
Mom released my hands as Ashton’s arms flew open, inviting me in. “There’s my favorite girl.”
“Ashton,” I sighed, almost in relief. Biting into my bottom lip, I ran to him and flung myself into his awaiting arms. He smelled like leather and fresh cut grass with a hint of saltiness. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Lizzy,” he said quietly. I fought back a howl of pain as his strong arms surrounded me, squeezing me and lifting me off the ground. His embrace was familiar and comforting, exactly what I needed that day. For years, when I had a bad day, or a boy broke up with me, these were the arms that would comfort me. He was always the one to make me feel better, even at the cost of his own heart.
He was also the only one in the world, other than my dad, who could get away with calling me Lizzy. My middle name was Elizabeth for my dad’s mom. She passed away the day before my mom had me. For a minute, I let myself be happy and excited, even though the reason I had returned home was horrible; it was so good to see Ashton.
“I had a feeling you’d be riding up my driveway any minute.” I laughed, pulling back.
“Well, you honked when you drove by. I thought that was my Bat Signal.” He chuckled. While I walked back to Mom, Ashton went to Peaches and took her reins in his hand, slipping them over her head and leading her over to us. “You remember Peaches, right?”
“Of course.” I nodded. Stepping forward, I rubbed my hand up and down the soft coat of her long, muscular neck. “Sweet Peaches was the last horse y’all got before I went to Charlotte for college, remember?”
“Oh, right. I forgot. Wasn’t that right after Cooper stupidly married his ex, Maggie? Or after he returned from deployment?” He furrowed his brow trying to recollect. He knew I hated Maggie.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. After he returned, because while he was gone she ran around town crying about being lonely. I can’t believe he stayed married to that tramp as long as he did.” The green monster inside me stirred.
“Kinsley Elizabeth Allen, if we don’t have anything nice to say,” my mother’s words trailed off because I knew what she meant without having her say it.
“I didn’t say anything mean. Just stating facts,” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest and cocking an eyebrow.
“Ashton, sweetie, it’s nice to see you. I’m sure I’ll see you for dinner soon,” Mom said with a smile as she turned and headed back inside.
“I’ll be right in, Mom.”
“Take your time, honey,” she said over her shoulder.
“So, you’re home? Or just visitin’?” Ashton’s questions were good ones. Ones I didn’t have answers to quite yet.
“Not sure.” I shrugged. “What’s up with you? Last summer, when I came to visit, your mom said you were working as a tour guide or something on some ranch in Wyoming or Montana. You goin’ back?”
“Nice deflection. It was Montana, and no. Dad’s been sick so I’m helpin’ Mom with the farm and with lessons while she’s lookin’ for a new instructor. She can’t keep up with the classes and Dad,” he told me as we stood in the middle of the driveway. Maria, who was technically his stepmom, would always be my first hero because she taught me to ride when I was a little girl. She ignited a passion within me I never knew existed. She was Ashton’s hero because she stepped up when his real mom walked out on them. “Speakin’ of which, I gotta get back over to the barn and put Peaches away before the farrier gets there.” Peaches picked her head up and snorted.
“What’s wrong with Scott?” I asked hesitantly, almost too scared to hear the answer.
“Lung cancer, not that it’s much of a surprise the way he smoked,” Ashton said matter-of-factly but his eyes betrayed him. I could see it was killing him. I couldn’t imagine how he must feel. I didn’t want to either.
“Oh God, Ashton.” My hands found their way on top of each other over my heart, pinned there like it might fall out if I didn’t hold it in place. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” My heart broke at the thought of Scott dying and Maria trying to do everything herself.
“I’ll talk to Mom and let you know.” He turned, climbing up onto Peaches and smiled down at me. “I’m glad you’re home, Lizzy.”
“Thanks, I’m glad to be here.” I smiled softly. I had a feeling that Ashton and I would fall back into our old routine without a second’s thought.
Clucking softly, Ashton gave the horse a soft squeeze with his legs and started down the driveway at a leisurely pace. I watched as they clip-clopped a few strides before Ashton turned and looked over his shoulder. “You should come over about six or so.”
“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” I yelled back with a single nod. I was glad he didn’t say earlier. I was exhausted and in desperate need of a few hours of sleep. Watching him ride off, I waited until he was out of view before I went back to the car and grabbed a few of the bags I had quickly packed and shoved in the trunk of my car. Checking my cell, I saw it was almost twelve-fifteen. I had enough time to sleep for at least five hours and still make it to the farm. With one bag on my right shoulder and two on my left, I slipped the phone in the back pocket of my jean shorts and set out for my bed.
If only I could put the last twenty-four hours to bed as easily as tucking myself in underneath the cover of night. If only I could close my eyes and not see his. If only I could breathe deep and not relive every vivid detail of my living nightmare over and over as if it were stuck on repeat.
If only I could find peace with what has happened and with what I had done.