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18
Jackson
The tube is hot as hell, packed with exhausted workers doing exactly what I’m doing—heading home at the end of a long day. I can’t wait to get back to my apartment and rip this suit off. Slipping into my shorts and a tank top, and relaxing with a cold beer in hand, sounds like heaven right now.
The tube stops at the next station and we all collectively sway back and forth, like a wave. More people get on than get off, and there’s a shuffle amongst the commuters to make room. Not that there was much to begin with. The sight of a red-haired woman suddenly grabs my attention, and my breath catches in my throat. Her hair is tied in a scruffy knot on her head.
Could it be her?
Holding my breath, I strain my neck to see her face through the crowd. When the train starts again, the jolting movement breaks up the sea of bodies, and I finally catch a glimpse. It’s not her.
It’s not Bree.
My plan had not worked exactly as I had hoped. I was determined to return to the city and forget all about her, but like a splinter in my mind, I just couldn’t get her out. Before going home to Sharon Springs, I had hardly noticed redheaded women in the city. Now, I see them everywhere. On the tube, in the elevator, on the streets. It’s driving me insane. During the day, the thought of her distracts me from work; at night, she invades my dreams.
Dad has phoned a couple of times. I know he’s worried. I’ve only been back a couple weeks and we would never have talked this often before. The conversations are not heavy, certainly not as heavy as the day I had left.
I had stormed out the kitchen and left Bree alone in there. She had put on a good act, that was for sure. She could have won an award. But I was not going to fall for her lies anymore. Maybe if she had just admitted the truth, maybe if she had shown some semblance of guilt, we could have talked.
No, you couldn’t have. You were too angry.
It was true. Saying I was angry was putting it mildly. Of all people, I thought she would have understood humiliation and betrayal more than anyone else. But after taking the leap and finally opening up to her, she had taken the last vestige of dignity I had left, and thrown it back at my face. I just couldn’t stay in that town any longer.
In my room, I had packed my bags again, after only unpacking them the day before, and left my suitcase at the door. I needed to talk to Dad, but I wasn’t going to do it while Bree was still there. I would wait until after she had left. I spent the hours in between, booking another flight, organizing a cab for that evening, and ringing Phil and letting him know I was coming back again. He was surprised. Pleased, but surprised.
“But you only just left,” he had said, his voice giving away his confusion.
“And now, I’m coming back,” I had replied shortly.
Phil knew me well enough not to push it, and the conversation was a short one.
With my laptop set up in my bedroom upstairs, I got to work. Dad likely thought I was out in the barn, because I didn’t hear him calling for me throughout the afternoon. At 5 pm on the dot, I heard the front door slam. I peeked out the window and saw Bree get into her car and drive away, leaving a plume of dust swirling in her wake.
Goodbye, Bree.
I had checked my watch, gauging how much time I had before the cab arrived. Not much. After packing my laptop, I carried my bags downstairs and left them at the front door. I was about to open the door and search for Dad on the porch, when the study door behind me opened, and the familiar crashing of his wheelchair against the doorframe made me turn. He stopped midway through the doorway when he noticed my bags.
“You’re leaving,” he had balked.
“I’m leaving,” I replied.
He had said nothing for a long while. I just waited.
“Is this to do with the argument?”
I frowned for a split second, and then understood Dad had likely heard me and Bree going at it in the kitchen.
“It is,” I said.
He stared at me expectantly. When I didn’t say anything more, he continued. “Well? Are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to consult a psychic?”
“I’ve had time to think, Dad. I was all for trying, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just not ready.”
“Horse crap!” he spat.
I knew he wouldn’t believe me, but I didn’t want to tell him the truth about Bree. She was still his housekeeper, and in a way his caretaker, so I didn’t want any bad blood between them. Besides, it had been my own fault, after all. I had been the idiot who had believed her. Dad had only been on the sidelines, encouraging me to do what he thought was right. He couldn’t have known the kind of woman Bree was either. She was very good at hiding her real self.
I shrugged. “I’m going back to the city. My mind’s made up.”
