I told him to leave.
And he did.
Numbly I turned the tap on in the bathtub and twisted it until the water was so hot it was almost unbearable.
Slowly, I lowered myself inch by inch into the scalding hot water. Only when I was completely submerged did the shaking finally subside.
I floated there in some kind of half-conscious fugue state until the water had cooled enough to be uncomfortable. Reluctantly, I drained the tub and toweled off.
And caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
It had been weeks since I’d done more than carelessly check my reflection to make sure nothing was in my teeth before heading over to see Derek.
Now that he was gone, it was like I was seeing myself for the very first time.
The fillers that had plumped my lips out to an unnatural fullness had faded, and without the regular Botox injections the deep crease between my eyebrows had returned. Where I’d once resembled the beautiful anonymous alien of my dreams, I now looked how I felt… Like a normal, worried woman.
I almost didn’t recognize my own expression.
But if my face was different, then my hair was unfathomable.
Shocked, I lifted the damp, ropey strands. Years of abuse - harsh dyes, extensions, heat-styling and backcombing - had fried it for sure, but I’d barely spared a thought for how it was faring now without the near constant ministrations of a team of stylists. I’d pulled it back into a ponytail every morning and called it done.
But now it fell, loose and heavy, in a tangle that almost reached my navel. Even wet like this, I could see that the rich red had faded into an ugly brassy orange, and my natural dirt-brown roots were showing.
Two whole inches of them.
I leaned closer to the mirror and turned on the light over the vanity. There it was. My real hair. Undyed and untreated. It was the same color I remembered seeing in the mirror all those years ago.
“There you are,” I whispered. I watched my reflection in the mirror as it lifted its hand. It was like I was watching some other hand lift my long strands and run its fingers upward until they found the line between my past… and my past.
Yanking open the vanity drawer, I rifled around my grandfather’s grooming tools until my fingers closed around a blunted pair of scissors.
“There you are,” I breathed again as I closed two fingers along that line of demarcation on my head.
And cut.
Red tangles fell to the floor around me. Wet and heavy, they fell with an audible smack onto the tiles. I lifted, sought the line, and cut, again and again, until they drifted up to my ankles, the damaged strands tickling my toes. I cut so much the scissors dulled and I had to hack at the last strands with the blades open, using them like a razor to shave off the last ten years of my life.
And there I was.
The girl in the mirror was nobody I recognized.
But she looked like somebody I wanted to be.
I left the piles of hair on the bathroom floor, already done with them. I knew what I needed to do now. Just like I’d walked away in the middle of the night, making my escape from Killian and fleeing to safety, now it was time to flee from safety.
As I shoved my clothes into my bag, I kept catching glimpses of myself. In the glossy surface of the piano, reflected back to me from the dark windows. And every time I was startled until I remembered who I was. “That’s me,” I reminded myself. “That’s who I am.”
I was going to go find out what that meant.
But as I crossed the drive to my car, I searched the carriage house for signs of Derek.
My heart sank when I saw the Jeep was gone from its usual spot. He wasn’t there.
Where was he?
Why did I care? Did I want him to see that I was leaving? Did it matter? I didn’t feel safe here any more. He’d won. This was his. I would start over again, just like I always had.
I threw my bag in my car and started the engine.
But instead of peeling away in a cloud of gravelly dust, I nosed down the drive at a crawl.
If he came back, right now, the last thing I wanted was to hit him head on.
I reached the bottom of the drive and stopped. I scanned the road for his approaching Jeep. Again and again. And each time I checked, I saw my hair in the rearview mirror, in the side mirror….
I touched my head and waited another breath. He should see me like this, one last time, I decided.
I waited. The longer I waited, the lower my heart sank.
Where had he gone?
Was he… at a bar?
I licked my lips and shook my head. That would be like him. To give up and hide from me. To not trust me to love him enough to make it better.
I wiped my eyes. “Time to go,” I whispered, trying to psyche myself up to press the gas pedal. “There’s nothing for you here.
My phone rang.
My heart leaped. Maybe he went out for hot chocolate. And he was calling me from the grocery store to ask if I wanted anything else for our make-up dinner. A phone call to talk me out of leaving was more his style. “Yeah?” I answered breathlessly.
“Jane!”
I struggled to place the name, and then to place the voice that said it. “Niall?” My heart jumped straight up into my throat. I looked at my phone again. “Wait, where are you calling from?”
“Jesus, Jane, it’s so good to hear your voice. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Niall.” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Is Killian with you?”
“What?” His plummy British accent always faded when he was confused. “Fuck no, he doesn’t slum it with the help. You know that.”
I exhaled in relief. “Niall, listen. I can’t talk long…” Just because he wasn’t there now didn’t mean Killian wouldn’t be walking into the room any moment. “I just… I’m sorry. I had to go.”
“Fuck being sorry, love. I’m just happy to hear you’re okay. The boys and I have been right stupid with worry. Jules’ drumming has gone to complete shite.”
“Oy! Fuck off!” called a voice in the background.
I smiled, flooded with a sudden rush of affection for my three Brit brothers. “I am okay, Niall. And I’ll be back in touch as soon as I can, okay?”
“You’ve got my number.” He paused. “Well, now you do, I guess. Sorry ‘bout that. I had to get a new one after some Scottish knob gave my old one out to the tabloids.”
“Oy, you bloody well deserved it.” That background brogue belonged to Ewan.
I smiled even wider and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Hey Niall, do me a favor?”
“Anything, love.”
“Just… don’t tell Killian you talked to me?”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s…” I took a deep breath. “You know he has a temper.”
“That he does.”
“He might be upset I talked to you and not him.”
Niall was silent so long I thought the call had dropped. “You sure you’re okay, love?” he finally asked.
I swallowed. “I will be soon. I promise. Thanks Niall.”
I hung up the phone before I started sobbing in earnest. No matter how bad things were with Killian, I’d always felt at home with the band. Those snatches of comfort and laughter had kept me going. Just like the moments I had with Xavier before them.
“Oh God,” I whispered. “Xavier.”
I blinked. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Xavier. And my parents, I told them I was staying, I couldn’t let them think they’d lost me again. And I was really curious about the McCabe’s Christmas party everyone kept mentioning, and Brynn had promised to take me, plus the town tree lighting was coming up and I really wanted to see it….
I slapped a tear off my face.
I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to run away again.
But I needed to be somewhere else than here.
And right now I really needed a friend. And a couch to crash on.
Maybe a bed. And a breakfast.
I made the call as I wound down off the mountain, so when I pulled into the drive at the Abbott House, every light was ablaze and Xavier was out waiting for me on the porch. I did a double take to see that his hands were stuffed into the pockets of a very unfashionably puffy coat.
He did a triple-take when he saw my hair.
I grinned. “Hi.”
Xavier staggered back from the door with his hand pressed to his heart. “Well then. I’ve always said you needed to find a look and commit to it. And that’s definitely a look, Kitten.”
I touched my shorn head. “You like?
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “You can definitely pull it off,” he said. “This probably makes no sense, but you look like… yourself.”