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My eyes fluttered open, and I looked around, trying my best to remember where I was and just what I was doing here.
Hmm. Childhood bedroom. Same slightly scratchy sheets I had slept under every night in high school. I pushed them back, rubbed a hand over my face, and looked around. Oh, yeah—I had dozed off early this morning, after I had been up all night, pacing around the house and worried out of my mind about everything that had happened the night before.
Nate. I had texted Nate before I had fallen asleep, and I needed to see if he had gotten back to me. I felt around in the covers for my phone, and when I found it, discovered the battery was dead. No juice left in it. I sighed, rolled over and pushed it into the charger before I got to my feet.
The little digital clock on the bedside table told me it was nearly four in the afternoon, and I felt like I could have crawled right back into bed and gotten some more sleep. I was still exhausted from everything that had happened yesterday, and I wasn’t sure what it was going to take to get me feeling normal again. Maybe another ten hours’ sleep or so. Yeah, something like that...
I wandered downstairs, peeping into Mom’s bedroom was I went by—she wasn’t there, probably out with one of her friends. She would probably have sent me a text to let me know what was going on; I could check once my phone had charge again.
My stomach grumbled loudly, and I realized it must have been close to sixteen hours since I’d had anything to eat. Damn, I was starving. I hurried into the kitchen, intent on making myself something enormous.
I rooted through the cupboards and found enough in there to make a decent pasta pomodoro—maybe I could put together a really giant meal for Mom and me, and Nate if he decided he was going to come around as well. I hadn’t heard from him, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had decided he needed his space from me right now, but I hoped he was willing to come back and at least hear me out.
I needed to tell him the truth. If he hadn’t gone to find it all himself now as it was. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had done some digging since he had left last night, to find out why I had freaked out the way I had. I would have preferred it if I could have been the one to tell him, but my emotions had gotten the better of me, and there was no way I could handle the panic and grief in my head enough to get it all out.
If I could sit him down tonight, I could get it all out of my system and come clean about the reality of what had happened. I didn’t want him thinking there was more to the story than he had read—that something darker had happened I was trying to hide or something.
Much as the story was bleak, I knew it wasn’t my fault. No matter how many times I had lain awake at night beating myself up over it, I had to believe it was just one of those things—once of those terrible, awful things that you could never account for, that you had to let go of eventually. I had no idea if he would believe me after the way I had acted, but I had to hope he trusted me with this.
I wanted to make it right. Whatever it was Nate and I had going, I had been enjoying it, and I didn’t want to screw it up before I had a chance to see where it might go. Just the night before, I had been pondering the possibility of staying a little while longer, what it could mean to just hang out for a few more weeks or months to get to know him better, give myself some time to settle back in to Maple Valley while I still could. It might have held plenty of memories that pained me, but there were a lot here of happy ones, too. Not to mention the new ones I could make if I gave myself the chance, instead of turning and running the first chance I got.
I pulled ingredients from the kitchen cabinets until the sideboards were heaving with food, and I started to cook. I was hungry, but the thought of serving up something delicious for everyone else was making it a little easier to take.
It had been a long time since I’d had reason to think of anyone other than myself, and it made me feel a little guilty to think of how self-centered I had been all this time. Maybe I should have been a little more open to the thought of letting other people into my life. Or even taking care of the ones who were already here. It might not have been easy, but the comfort I got from looking after others was starting to make me feel more grounded again.
There was a thrill in doing what I did for a living, of course, nailing a deal and knowing I had landed something nobody else could have pulled off. But maybe I should start thinking about a life beyond that, too. Not exactly like I was in any great rush to settle down or anything, but there was something to be said for letting the stress of work fall from me for a while so I could stay focused on my mother and taking care of her.
Speaking of. I still didn’t know where the hell she had gotten to. Once I had the meal bubbling away on the burners, I headed back upstairs to grab my phone and see just what was going on.
It was charged, and I flicked it on. The first message that arrived was from Nate, telling me he would love to come see me that evening. I clutched the phone to my chest for a moment, closing my eyes and sighing with relief. Thank goodness he was going to give me another chance to make things right. I didn’t want him thinking of me as some crazy bitch who freaked out when he tried to do something nice, as I knew he had been when he had hung those photos up for me.
I hoped he understood where I was coming from. I didn’t mean to get so mad at him, but it had been like I was blinded by the grief of seeing Samantha again. I loved her so much, the pain of what I missed was sometimes more than I could bear, and the only way to handle it was to pretend she had never existed at all. Which was cruel to her, unfair to the little sister I had adored so much, and unfair to Nate, who had just been trying to help.
I would talk to him tonight, after dinner, just the two of us. Maybe it was time to come clean to him about what had really driven me out of this town. I had been running from the memories here that clung to me, the ones that chased me down every time I stepped out the front door. The way people looked at me, I could tell they were still thinking of what I had done, or what, at least, they thought I had failed to do.
Maybe I could be more than that now that I was back, though. Perhaps it was in me to find a new version of myself in this town, no matter how hard it might have been. I didn’t just want to be the girl who had run away because she couldn’t stand the way people looked at her. Maybe I could be more than her. Maybe I could become something better...
I had no idea, but I was willing to try. A new sureness had stirred up inside of me since I had woken up, a night’s sleep away from the deluge of emotion which had consumed me the night before. I didn’t want him to think of me as this woman who couldn’t handle the past. When I had left this town, I had been trying to leave behind the stress and fear of what had happened, but I was better than that now. I could handle myself in a way I hadn’t been able to then. I could change the way I had acted, change the stuff I had tried to escape. I could take on something new. Something more adult...
I was pondering this when I heard my phone buzz again, and I grabbed it to check who was trying to get in touch with me—probably Mom letting me know she hadn’t wanted to wake me when she had rushed out of the door that morning to see her friends or whatever.
Instead, though, as I clicked open the messages, my heart sank down to my shoes. It was from my mother. But she wasn’t out with her friends.
I read it twice before it really sank in, trying to make sense of it.
She had rushed out to the clinic first thing this morning because she had been having chest pains. She’d gotten a friend to take her because she didn’t want to wake me. I cursed silently. Why didn’t she get me up? She had just gone out of the house when she had been feeling awful and risked something happening to her? I would have gotten out of bed at once to do what I could to look after her, but she hadn’t given me the chance...
Another text. Telling me she was at the clinic and they were keeping her there for some testing. I waited, holding my breath, for more information, and it didn’t take long for another message to arrive. Mom. Telling me she had to turn her phone off now, but she would let me know when they were done with whatever they were doing to her.
And then...nothing. Not from her, anyway. I could feel tears pricking my eyes, my throat closing up as the horrible reality of what was going on here made my head spin. Where was she? Was she okay? What had happened to her? I NEEDED to know. I needed to find out. I couldn’t just leave my mom out there to handle herself alone if she was ill...
Another message—this one from Nate. I opened it immediately. He was asking where I was, if I was awake—he must have known I had only just woken up, given that I had been just falling asleep when I had texted him.
“Where are you?” he asked. “You need to come to the clinic. Your mom needs you.”
I closed my eyes, trying to push down the rolling dread inside of me. What had happened to her? Was she okay?
I rushed through to the kitchen to turn off all the burners and pulled on a coat and some shoes. My hands were shaking so much I could hardly do up my laces, but I needed to get out of here. I needed to get to her. I needed her to know I was there for her, that I would do anything to take care of her, no matter what it was she was going through right now.
I climbed into the car and tore out of the property and on to the street. My heart was thrumming loudly in my chest, and I tried to ignore it. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get to her. I didn’t know what had happened—but if Nate was reaching out to me, then I knew it had to be serious. And I didn’t like the idea of where this might be going.
