Page 41 of Dream Chaser

Anxiety’s grip on my chest lessened as I drove. Three hours later, when I parked in my former driveway, I was calmer.

Until I tried to open the front door and the key didn’t fit.

“What the…” I mumbled, trying again.

My mouth dried. Preston changed it while I was gone.

I groaned, pivoting. The day mocked me with its cloudless sky and warmth.

My clothes. My things. I couldn’t collect them unless I asked Preston to let me in.

That was what he wanted—control and the upper hand. He wanted me to crawl back to him, apologizing for things that weren’t my fault.

I drove to my mother’s. She hadn’t called since I left—my punishment for not crawling back to Preston like she wanted—but I needed the keys to the house I’d inherited from my grandmother. It was old and in need of repairs, but I cherished it, and I wouldn’t sell it unless it was a matter of survival.

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t answer the doorbell the first time I rang it. Or the second. Or even the third.

On the fifth ring, she opened the door wearing a beige cardigan and a scowl. “About time you showed up.”

I walked into the foyer. “I came to collect the rest of my clothes from Preston’s, but he changed the lock.”

“He’s hurt.” Mom sighed. “Leaving him now while he’s in the middle of his campaign was selfish of you. Donna and I are helping him any way we can, but people are starting to talk. I told everyone who’s asked that you’re visiting family out of town.”

I thought I knew what ridiculous was. Wrong. I was just starting to learn.

“Why don’t you just tell them the truth? That your daughter is getting divorced, and she found a job in Emerport? I’m not coming back, Mom.”

She sniffled. “I thought I did a better job as a parent. Look at you, so arrogant.”

“Arrogant?” My voice shook. “If not wanting to be married to a mommy’s boy who called me a whore is arrogance, then guilty as charged. I have no regrets. He can’t treat me the way he does and expect me to stay. Our marriage was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Mom pressed her lips until they became a thin line. “You stood at the front of that church and said your vows.”

“And now I take them back.” I walked past her and darted upstairs to my childhood bedroom. Grandma’s house keys were in the heart-shaped box in my desk drawer.

Only they weren’t.

“Where the hell are my keys?” I demanded.

Mom snorted behind me. “Let me guess, you need them because you’re homeless. So much talk about your fancy new job, and look at you. No husband. No home.”

I faced her, jaw clenched. “Stop it. That house is mine, and I want my keys.”

“Preston needed them,” she said.

My heartbeat stuttered. “What? What for? He wanted them, and you just gave him something that belongs to me without asking me first? That house isn’t his. It’s mine!”

He had no claim to something I’d inherited prior to the marriage, and he had no right to take the keys or anything of mine.

“You know what he told me?” Mom asked as I opened the creaky closet door, scanning the shelves for anything I might need. “He dreamed of having your children running around in your grandma’s backyard. That man would do anything for you, and you’re throwing it all away for nothing. Do you think working will make you happy? You don’t know what’s best for you.”

“Do me a favor.” I stuffed the photo albums I’d found into my purse. “Next time someone asks about me, tell them the truth. I’m not visiting family. I’m gone for good. Tell Preston he’ll hear from my attorney soon.”

Mom gasped, clutching her chest. Nausea rose from the pit of my stomach. I was sick of her trying to manipulate me.

“Go to counseling,” she said. “You can’t throw in the towel without even trying to fix things. You owe this to—”

“I don’t owe anyone shit. And if you give Preston anything of mine ever again, you can forget you ever had a daughter.”