Anywhere But Here (7 page)

“I could say the same for you. Why aren’t you with your friends?”

“They left for lunch and I didn’t feel like going.”

“Oh. I guess I just didn’t feel like sitting with mine. Jeremy and Cammie have second lunch, and sometimes I just like to have a quiet minute to myself.”

“And I’m interrupting.” I started to reach for my bag to back off, but she stopped me.

“No, surprisingly, you’re not. As irritating as you can be, you’re not nearly as irritating as they can be sometimes, but keep that to yourself.”

I laughed out loud. “I don’t think that’s any big secret, except maybe to themselves. I’m just surprised to hear you say it.”

“Because I’m one of them?”

“Well, yeah.”

She let out a soft sigh. “Doesn’t mean I’m like them.”

I was beginning to see that. Cammie Carlisle, her best friend, was a crazy bitch. Stuck up as hell, except when she was naked, and even then I’d only gone there the one time because I was drunk and she was hot and as wild in bed as she was annoying out of bed. That was pretty much par for the course with those girls though, and Jeremy and his football buddies were giant dicks. Probably because they had small ones. So the fact that Shae was not only tolerable, but actually kind of interesting, and funny and not a bitch, was unexpected to say the least. Not to mention that she was easily the most gorgeous girl at this school.

Shae

April 30

Present . . .

My phone ringing and someone knocking at the door was not how I wanted to be woken up on a Saturday morning after a late Friday night. Even worse was the wine hangover from the bottle I may or may not have drained. Okay, I definitely drank the whole bottle when I got home last night.

The ringing phone was the first problem I addressed, and when I saw my mother’s number flashing on the screen, a quick swipe to the left took care of that.

Now to deal with the cruel and hateful person banging on the door, at this ungodly– ugh I didn’t even know what time it was. Almost noon.
Shit.
I guess they weren’t evil. I was just more pathetic than I realized.

I dragged myself out of bed and yanked a sweatshirt from my overflowing suitcase. Careful of the tender spot on my back, I pulled it on over the skimpy tank top I slept in and trudged my way to the front door. A peek through the peephole had me silently cursing even as I reached for the door to open it.

Shit. Damn. Fuck.

“Hey Trinity,” I said brightly, forcing myself to come to terms with the fact that Kellen’s little sister was standing on the front porch, so very grown up looking compared to the teenager I used to know.

“Hi.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. I returned the gesture, and something inside my chest started melting.
Shit.
I’d managed seven years without feeling guilty about leaving, only because I’d refused to think about the people I’d cut out of my life that hadn’t deserved to be left behind and forgotten like that.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked when we pulled apart.

“Only if I’m not bothering you.”

I let out a soft laugh. “As you can probably tell, I wasn’t doing anything important. I have an appointment later today, but it’d be great to catch up.”

She looked relieved and guilt swamped me again as I led her into Didi’s living room. Trinity had been the sweetest girl, and she was nearly as devastated as I was when things turned sour between me and her brother.

“How have you been?” I asked as we both took seats on the large sofa.

“Good, and you? It’s been so long.”

My chest deflated. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just– it’s good to see you. I definitely missed you, but I understood.” Seven years had done nothing to change that she was still the same sweet girl.

“I’m still sorry and I’d really like to hear what you’ve been up to.”

We talked for quite a while, slowly falling back into an easy and comfortable dialogue. She’d graduated from Coastal University here in town last spring and was finishing up her student teaching at one of the elementary schools before she became a certified teacher. It was so good to hear that she’d been doing well and was on a good path. I was really proud of her and could only imagine how proud Kellen was. Despite what he’d done to me, he was a good brother to Trinity. He sacrificed so much for her to make sure she got every chance she could to succeed.

If only he’d fought as hard for himself.

Or us.

No, I couldn’t go there. It was a slippery slope.

Trinity stuck around into the afternoon until I looked at the time and realized I had to get ready for my meeting. “I’m really glad you stopped by Trin. I have to meet a real estate agent at Didi’s shop and I still need to shower, but maybe we can grab coffee or lunch this week before I go back to New York.”

She rose from the couch. “So you’re really selling the shop?”

“Yeah. I don’t know the first thing about running a business, and I’ve got a life in New York.”

“Of course.”

I walked her to the door and we traded cell numbers so we could make plans during the week. Once she was gone, I intended to take a quick shower and get down to the shop a little early so I could dust and straighten up in case she wanted to take a few pictures. Once I was under the hot water, my quick shower stretched into almost half an hour. By the time I got out, I had to throw on the first things I found in my suitcase, do a half-assed blow out on my hair to keep it from dripping down my back and skip make-up entirely.

I made it down to Fourth Ave with only minutes to spare. I kept my eyes away from the shop across the street, and did my best ten minute tidy up while I waited for Judy Parker. She was right on time and the meeting went quickly. She did snap a few pictures and then we went over property values and what I hoped to get out of the place.

We went over a few other details and then she left me with a small stack of paperwork to fill out and return to her office as soon as possible. I let her know I could have it to her by the end of business today and then she was off to another appointment. We made plans for her to come by and see the house on Monday.

I pulled up a stool behind the counter, letting my eyes linger on the few photos Didi had back there. The two of us in her back yard gardening. Me as a little girl on Papa’s lap. The three of us at the beach. And then one that had been taken at Papa’s sixtieth birthday, when Dad was still alive. The five of us were all there and smiling. I was standing in front of Daddy, he had his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my head was tipped back smiling up at him instead of the camera. Mom was leaning her head on his shoulder and Didi and Papa were holding hands at the end. It was one of the last times we were all together. It wasn’t even a year later that Dad died in the accident and everything changed.

I searched around for something to tuck the pictures away in it to take with me, and I uncovered another one buried under some papers on a shelf under the counter. My heart clenched and I felt myself being sucked into the past as I stared at the photograph of him. I placed it in the small box I found and then laid the rest on top.

It didn’t take long to skim through the paperwork and get everything signed. My phone rang just as I was scribbling out the last signature. Dropping the pen, I grabbed for my purse, cursing the size of it as I dug for my phone. It was a wasted effort when I saw who was calling. I had nothing to say to her. Not now. Not after years of enduring her silence, especially when I’d needed her most.

Ignoring her calls every day last week had led to me missing the funeral. It was only on Thursday night that I finally caved and listened to one of the many voicemails she’d left. It was my own fault that I had to find out that way, and yet part of me still wanted to blame her. She’d caused this rift between us that had spread into an unbreachable chasm.

She knew I was in town because I’d called her back Thursday night only to let her know that I would be coming down to take care of everything. Our conversation had gone no further. There was nothing left that she could have to say to me now, so I let it ring and ring until my voicemail picked it up.

Needing something in my empty stomach besides coffee, I locked up and headed for the sandwich shop down the street on foot. My eyes caught on the big, sleek, black and silver chrome bike parked in front of Bulletproof Ink. He’d wanted a bike since he was six years old and his father took him for a ride on the back of his. He told me that was the only good memory he had of his dad before he left them and wound up in prison. His mother took her cues from him and bailed too, not long after.

It had been engrained in Kellen from an early age that giving up and walking away was easier than staying and fighting, so how could I have expected anything different? I was the one who left town, but he was the one who turned his back on us after walking all over my heart and smashing it into a hundred million pieces. I was sure that size twelve tread was still imprinted on what I’d managed to stitch back together.

The only useful piece of advice my mother ever gave me was when she warned me not to let Kellen Nash anywhere near my heart. I should have listened. I wasn’t one of those people who believed there was a purpose to my pain, that I was better for having gone through it. Sure I was stronger, and I’d learned some heavy lessons, but I didn’t think any of it made me better. I actually missed the girl that I was before Kellen Nash. She was just one more thing I lost, one more thing he took from me, because after him, that sweet, kind, hopeful girl who believed in the best of people and this world, disappeared. She was long fucking gone, and in her place was something I’d never wanted to be. Angry, bitter, jaded, emotionally closed off.

I got my lunch and carried it back to Didi’s. I made it to the door of the shop before I heard a car door open and came face to face with my mother climbing out of a shiny Mercedes. She was as put together as ever, designer everything, hair elegantly styled and highlighted, her make-up perfect–a complete contrast to my ripped jeans, five dollar white tee, knock off leather jacket, worn in Chuck Taylor’s, no make-up at all and hair falling messily down my back. I could only imagine what she was making of my appearance, but I’d stopped striving to please her right around the time my world fell apart and she told me it was my own fault. As if I didn’t already know that. I’d needed my mother in that moment, not an “
I told you so”
lecture.

“What do you want?”

She stopped, still several feet from me, looking surprisingly nervous. “I just wanted to see how you’re holding up. You wouldn’t answer my calls, but I thought I might find you here.”

“Well you did and I’m fine, so you can go.”

Instead she came closer, looking more like the confident, pushy woman I remembered. “I know this has to be hard for you. I want to help if I can, with whatever you need.”

Who the hell was she? She looked like my mother, but she didn’t sound like my mother. “A little late for you to be offering help don’t you think?”

Her composure cracked just a little. “I don’t think it’s ever too late for a mother to try.” Her words lacked conviction, because we both knew better.

“I needed you to try back then. I don’t need anything from you now.” I turned my back to her and let myself into the shop. I closed and locked the door behind me, refusing to acknowledge her still standing out there on the sidewalk. I took my lunch into the back room, out of sight of the large windows, and took my time eating and texting Lizzie, hoping my mother would be gone when I went back out there.

Unfortunately, as I was gathering up my trash, someone started pounding persistently at the door out front. They continued pounding until I stepped out into view. The upside was that it wasn’t my mother. The downside was that I think I would have preferred my mother.

I would have left him standing out there, but I was afraid if I didn’t open the door, he would start beating on it again until it shattered.

“What?” I snapped once I had it open.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Your mother sat in her car waiting for you for twenty minutes, only to have you shut the door in her face, and then she stood out here waiting another half an hour hoping you would come back out.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not, but someone needs to fucking get through to you. She’s your mother.”

“You know as well as I do how little that means,” I shot back.

“The difference, sweetheart, is that mine never tried to make things right.”

“It’s a little too late for mine to try that bullshit.” I folded my arms in front of my chest.

“Are you even hearing yourself? There was a time you would have killed for your mom to make even a little effort. Open your fucking eyes, because from where I’m standing you’re getting what you wanted more than anything.”

“Past tense. You don’t have a clue about what I want now, but I’ll help you out. It involves you leaving me alone.”

He shook his head in obvious disgust. “Believe me, I’d love to, but I just thought someone should point out to you that you need to grow up and get over yourself. Stop punishing everyone for the past you’re still stuck in. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re running low on family. The way I see it, that woman’s all you got left and someday you might just find yourself all alone and wishing you had taken the chance to fix things when you had it.”

I pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, easing my rising anger. “Some shit can’t be fixed.”

“Or you’re just too much of a coward.” His words slapped me in the face.

“That’s real rich coming from you.”

He laughed. “So fucking what. News flash, you might have changed for the worse, but some of us didn’t, and I’m not going to let you make me feel like shit for stuff I did when I was eighteen.” He started backing away. “Go talk to you mother, Shae. Unlike me, she gives a damn.” Then he turned and walked away.

I wanted to scream after him. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t know shit. For the first time, I wanted to tell him everything, to throw it in his face, to see the shock and horror at what he didn’t know. Make him understand why I couldn’t just “fix” things with my mother. I wanted to make him feel as god-awful as I felt. Then maybe he would understand why I was acting like a bitch. The bitch was only an act. One meant to keep me from ever going through what I did again. It was better to let him think the worst of me than to let the truth rip the past wide open.