I was dressed and out of the house before Frankie woke up the following morning. I wasn’t ready to confront her about her words from the night before, so I slipped quietly out of the apartment and jumped in my car. I didn’t stop until I made it through the gates of the old abandoned warehouse that sat on the very outskirts of town.

I was still trying to work out for myself what the hell had happened to make her say the things she’d said as I slipped the rusty key from my back pocket and opened the front door to the building. Reaching out to the side, I flipped the light switch on and glanced around the spacious area.

It wasn’t much to look at. Simple, quiet, yet somehow it always seemed to make me feel like I wasn’t alone. Silly, really, because I was. At least until Bessy came by at noon, or until Harry decided to make an appearance, which I knew he wouldn’t because it wasn’t dark outside.

Bessy had worked here when I was just a kid. Back then, the place was filled to the brim with shelving that housed various different fabrics in all colours and sizes, rows of tables showcasing the most beautiful sewing machines I had ever seen, and cotton reels at every station. I’d been just a child, but even so, I was fascinated and more than a little curious. While most of my friends were spending their summer holidays abroad with their families enjoying the rare sunshine or playing on the swings at the local park, I could be found at the warehouse, watching with awe as my mum flittered to and fro between the sewing machine and the mannequin that sat in the far corner of the warehouse. I thought she only agreed to take me with her because she was tired of my constant whining, but I was happy all the same.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I pictured the memory before me. Blues, greens, yellows and reds. Shiny material all folded neatly in piles, just waiting to be chosen. The warehouse would be full of life, seamstresses going about their day, filling orders while Mum designed new garments that would later be pieced together.

My mum had her first job here as a trainee designer until she graduated university. Her parents then bought her the warehouse during a bankruptcy scandal that, at the time, had been the topic of most conversations. My grandparents had bought it cheap, but that wasn’t why they had picked it up. Mum had always had a dream of becoming a famous designer right here in Winslow. And when she graduated and the warehouse went up for sale, there was no way she could let it go. It had been a huge part of her life for many years. It was the same place she’d made her first dress, which still hung in the overflow wardrobe, gathering dust.

Mum got to work setting up the warehouse once the sale was finalised and worked day and night to bring her designs to life. It wasn’t too long before she hit the big time. Her designs were released in every magazine, stretching out as far as New York. Everyone knew who Jessica Livingston was and if they didn’t a simple Google search would clear up any confusion. But fame brought options, and it wasn’t too long before she turned her back on this old place. Apparently, having an office and warehouse in both Paris and New York was far more appealing than owning a grungy old warehouse in Winslow. One that, unless you lived there, you would never even know existed.

Sighing, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat down behind the only table. It appeared to look lost within the large room. I brushed my fingertips against the grey stained surface as I released a tired yawn and picked up the heavy satin material in front me.

I had spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering how I would approach Frankie. I wondered if there was an underlying issue that I wasn't aware of. Like she’d been hurt in the past and couldn’t get over that pain. It would make sense, I guess. Considering her firm refusal to commit to any man. But even knowing that, it still didn’t make sense. Frankie wasn’t mean. She would never set out to purposely hurt me like she’d done last night. Maybe she’d just had an off day. Hell, we all had those. And besides, she’d been going through so much lately and with the amount of drink she’d knocked back, it was no wonder her brain was mashed. It had been a mistake. She hadn’t meant it. She’d likely already forgotten she’d even said anything.

I blew out a breath, hoping I was right, and hung my latest piece on the rack with the others, smoothing out the gold, satin material as I did.

A mistake.

She made one lousy mistake. It wasn’t like I hadn’t made one of those before. I had been prone to making mistakes and bad choices. In college that tendency of mine became a sport. And because I wasn’t discreet about my actions, they soon became who and what I was known for. I was practically the queen of bad behaviour, acting out to get whatever the hell I wanted, parading my bitchiness around like a crown on my head as though every wretched thing I ever did should have been adored. And for some time, people did adore me. Or maybe they just feared getting on the wrong side of me so they played along. It wasn’t until I set my sights on Lola that my reign came crashing to an end. Others no longer participated in or encouraged my behaviour. They saw it, and me, as absurd. Wrong. Absolutely nothing to be proud of. And maybe they were right. Who was I kidding? Of course they were. But that crown had protected me. From what, I wasn’t sure, but I felt the difference when I was stripped of it—a vulnerability I had fought so hard to keep locked away. After all of that, with all the time in the world to evaluate, I saw all of my choices, my bad behaviour, for what they really were: mistakes. Horrible mistakes that hurt others, and in the end, me. Everything I’d done, who I’d allowed myself to become since Shawn died, they were all mistakes. It was a mistake to treat others badly, a mistake to be selfish, a mistake to chase Taylor around knowing he wasn’t interested in me, and it was a mistake to try to destroy Lola. It was an even bigger mistake to believe that my so-called entourage were really my friends. Too late, I’d realised that I’d let bad choices poison every part of my life.

College… Check.

Friendships… Check.

Guys… Check.

Abandoned by my supposed friends, dumped by the boy I’d wanted since we were kids, I’d felt completely alone. Used and unwanted. I was ready to stomp on that crown of mine and try my hand at being the real me for a change. The one who didn’t hide behind selfishness and manipulations. It was during that time that Jake and I had gotten together. It was true that he was pretty much the only person around the halls who still spoke to me. But it was so much more than that. He would sit beside me on the bench and open up about his plans for after college, and how he was struggling to deal with the realisation that Taylor was his brother. All stuff he didn’t need to talk about but did. Jake made me laugh when I didn’t feel as though I would ever laugh again. More than that, he made me feel special. Wanted, even. I had wanted to believe so badly that what was happening between us was because he saw the real me, the one I had slowly been returning to. I knew I was probably making another mistake, but I couldn’t stop myself. It would seem that old habits really did die hard. Or maybe they didn’t with exception. Jake Knight had been that exception. Until he wound up leaving me more broken than I’d been to begin with.

The last few months of college were tough as I tried to focus on my studies while ignoring the ugly stares and snide comments from my classmates. Although I did my best to get over what Jake had done to me, no matter how much I wanted to act out, I remained committed to changing back to the person I once was. Someone I liked. Someone I could look at in the mirror. The person Shawn was proud to call his sister. I was relieved when college was over and I could leave my mistakes behind me. But they stayed. And last night only proved that.

It also reminded me that I was a sucker for punishment. I just couldn’t seem to stay away from Jake, even though I knew having anything to do with him was a mistake. Even though I knew I was nothing more to him than an easy fuck, a way to release his pent-up sexual tension without the worry of feelings crawling their way into the mix. Without the worry of more.

Would I have gone home with him? Yeah, I probably would have. But what he failed to realise was that I wasn’t the same girl anymore. Sure, I’d let him in my bed, but I wouldn’t let him into my heart. No, I’d made that mistake once before and I wasn’t about to let that happen again.

He had no idea what I had planned for my future, and he never would. Not until I’d saved up enough money to leave this place behind me. By that time it would be too late. Not that I thought he’d care if I left or not. I knew he wouldn’t. But at least he’d be left thinking I’d never cared about him at all. A lie I was willing to keep to myself.

Noon soon rolled around and it wasn’t long before Bessy came by, her usual cheery smile plastered on her face as she greeted me the way she always did.

“Be a dear and pop the kettle on, would you?” she asked. Her eyes appeared as worn out as I felt as she glanced briefly around the space before sliding a box onto the small shelving unit.

I nodded without a word and went about fixing the tea, adding an extra sweetener because although she insisted she had given up sugar, I knew she slipped one of the small tablets into her mug when she thought I wasn’t looking.

I brought the steaming mug to her with a frown. “Arthritis playing up?” It wasn’t really a question. I knew Bessy had been struggling lately. I could tell that the illness had been keeping her awake at night.

“Nothing a mug of tea won’t fix.” She winked, her crow’s feet gathering at the corners of her dull, grey eyes, which were once bright and hopeful.

“You say that every time.” I rolled my eyes.

“And I mean it every time,” she countered, her fingers curling around the steaming, daisy mug before she brought it to her lips and walked around the table, her eyes roaming the rack I had brought through to the front yesterday morning.

“I see you finished it.”

“The dress?” I asked. “It was mostly done yesterday. I just wanted to add a few finishing touches.”

“If I’d known you were here yesterday I would’ve stopped by,” she told me. “You're never in on a Saturday morning. What's wrong? You couldn’t sleep?”

I shrugged. “I slept fine,” I admitted. “Just woke up early, is all. Thought I’d finish the dress before my shift.”

“Since when do you get up at the crack of dawn?”

“Since I was caught sleeping in Shawn’s bed again,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, waving it off as though it were fine. Bessy flashed me a sympathetic smile and nodded.

Bessy had become more of a mother to me over the years, since mine barely acknowledged my existence these days. She had been in my life for as long as I could remember and she knew absolutely everything there was to know about me. She knew about Shawn and his addiction, my parents abandoning me when he passed away, and how I became this calculated version of the girl she once knew. She didn’t condone any of the stuff I’d done back in college, but she never once made me feel like the rest of them did. She lent a sympathetic ear while I struggled to move on from my mistakes. She guided me through life and treated me like the daughter she never had. I couldn’t have asked for more.

“Well, I’m here if you need an ear,” she said, still eyeing up the dress. She also knew when to push and when to stay quiet… another reason why I loved her.

“Oh dear.” She tsked when I said no more, but her concerned tone caused me to look up. “Harry didn’t come again?” she asked.

Craning my neck, I looked towards the small china bowl and frowned. “Hmm… I guess not.” I shrugged, although a part of me was worried that he once again hadn’t been by to eat the food we’d left out for him. It wasn’t unusual, but it always made an unpleasant feeling work its way inside of me at the very thought that he might not come back.

“He’ll finish that bowl off tonight, I’m sure of it.” She tried to sound hopeful but I knew otherwise. Harry had worked his way into both of our hearts when he’d found his way to the warehouse almost a year ago. Since then, he’d come by most nights, with the exception of the winter months. By then he’d be hibernating someplace warm and safe. We’d been surprised when he came back in March, fuller than he was when he first stopped by. And yes, if you hadn’t already guessed, Harry was our pet hedgehog, and he was clever. He knew that once the lights were out, a heaping bowl of Frosties would be there waiting for him to delve into.

I sighed louder than I’d intended to.

“What's wrong, dear? You don't seem your usual self. Did you and Jessica leave it on bad terms?”

“I guess you could say that. I don't know. It's my fault. I shouldn't have stayed in there. I knew how doing it would make her feel. I shouldn't be surprised.”

“I think you have just as much right to be in there as she does. Don't be so hard on yourself. Here, why don't you stop by the house and show off this beautiful dress? I know she’d love to see it.”

“I don't think so. She's barely able to be in the same room as me. Somehow I don't think a dress is going to change that.”

“I’m sorry about that. For what it's worth, I know she loves you. And you remind me so much of your mother, it's uncanny.”

“You really think so?” I asked, feeling brighter than I had five minutes ago.

“I do. I remember sitting right here, just across from her when she was your age. A spritely one, she was. She could light up a room with just one smile. And she was beautiful, just like you are.”

“She still is.” I smiled. My mother was beautiful. From her luscious blonde locks down to her killer legs. Even in her fifties, she was a head-turner. I shook my head, needing a change of subject. “How is Arthur today?”

Arthur was Bessy’s better half—as she liked to call him. He was put in a care home when his dementia became too much for Bessy to handle. It had taken a lot for her to admit that she could no longer look after him the way he needed. It was a relief to Bessy once he was settled into the quaint facility just outside of Winslow. I’d visited a few times when I knew that Bessy was having a particularly bad day. I hated the thought of her going alone, although I’d never admit that to her. No, I always made out that I wanted to visit the fabric store that was nearby because the one a few blocks away in town didn’t have nearly as much as I liked. As time went on, I think she had begun to wise up to me, but she never let on. I thought she secretly enjoyed the company, and honestly, so did I.

“Confused,” she eventually said, sighing sadly.

I nodded, unsure what to say to that. It had to be hard to watch the man you loved losing himself to an illness that wasn’t treatable. Most days he didn’t know who Bessy was or why he was there. Sometimes he’d have to be restrained by the nurses. There were times when Bessy had been called in because Arthur had hurt himself during one of his episodes. Day by day, she was becoming less and less of the person she used to be. She was tired and in pain more than she wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her from coming by to bring me new material she’d stumbled across. We both knew that she only stopped by to check up on me.

“You didn’t have to come today. Go home and rest. I’ll be finishing up soon anyway,” I assured her.

“Oh no, I’m just fine here. And besides, the exercise will do me a world of good.”

“Says who? You or the doctor?” I smirked.

“Dear, you know if those darn quacks had it their way I’d be on bed rest until the big man upstairs comes for me. Like I’d give up that easily,” she finished with a wink.

I gazed up at her willowing frame and smiled. Bessy was as tough as old boots and as stubborn as an ox, but the doctor was right. She needed to rest more.

“Well, if you’re not going to listen to them, how about you listen to me instead? Come on,” I announced, turning off the machine with a flick of a switch and pushing to stand. “Let’s get you home so you can rest while I raid that cookie jar you keep hidden under the sink. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Hmm… Now you mention it, I could use an afternoon siesta. These old bones aren’t what they used to be.”

“Come on then.” I laughed and hooked my arm through her bony limbs. “Let’s get you home.”

“Always so bossy.” She tsked again, the corners of her mouth twitching up.

“You have no idea,” I teased as I ushered her outside, making sure to lock up behind me.