AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I just love that Caleb Bishop,” Amy said and sipped her water as she joined me at the kitchen table. “That article was amazing; he’s a very talented young man.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, he definitely has a way with words. I think the article came out beautifully.”
The PJT had been published this morning and the article of the “Runaway Ashford Girl” was on the front page. So far, I received texts from Simone, Caleb and Knox and I got calls from both my mother and father who thanked me for making the Ashfords look like a united front. I was proud of it as well, proud of myself for standing my ground and refusing to hide away. With every passing day I felt stronger, more independent and less afraid of the things around me. Panic attacks were slim to none and my nightmares were nearly completely gone aside from one or two minor ones.
Things were really looking up.
“Is he seeing anyone?” Amy asked.
I arched a brow at the woman who was like a mother to me. “Why? You looking for a hot, young date?”
Knox shot me a glare from his place on the couch and his mother burst out laughing, shaking her head. “No, but I think you should go out with him if my son keeps giving you those dirty looks.”
“Hey! I’m very sweet, Ma. Just ask her. I brought her a double chocolate muffin the other night.”
“Oh, really? And just what did you do wrong this time?”
Knox’s cheeks turned red and he turned back towards the TV as we fell into a fit of laughter, leaning against each other. It was painfully normal and I was loving every second of it, having no issue of falling back into the routine of both me and Amy ganging up on her son for the sheer fun of it. I had a feeling Knox liked it, too because he kept looking over at us and smiling every now and again.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” Amy jumped up and ran out of the room only to come back a second later holding a very familiar black bag.
“Is that my camera bag?” I said in awe as she dropped it on the table in front of me. Dust coated the top of it and I unzipped it, revealing an old Nikon that I forgot about for years. I was swamped with memories as I pulled it out, sliding my hand over the sleek plastic and metal, twisting the lens a few times. “Wow, this is such a trip.”
Amy cleared her throat and perched on the edge of the table, looking down at me. “I hope you don’t mind, honey, but I put some new batteries in it. I missed my girl and I liked to look at the photos while you were gone. And after John…” she trailed off and Knox turned at the mention of his father, looking at us over his shoulder.
I was touched that she told me a personal little secret. “No, not at all. I… thank you, Amy.”
I turned it on and began going through the photos, pausing on a shot of me and Knox laying down on his bed. My arm was extended high as I took the picture and we were both on our backs with his head turned towards me and me smiling at the camera. His dark hair was too long and I looked so young. Blonde. Happy.
The next was one of Amy and Knox dancing in the middle of this very kitchen. He had her hand in his and he towered over her. She was laughing and smiling up at him, less gray in her hair than there was now. Notorious for wearing her husband’s jackets Amy had on a baggy gray sweatshirt that was falling off one shoulder.
The next was one that had my breathing halting in my throat. Knox and John on Knox’s twenty first birthday. They each had an arm over the other’s shoulders and were leaned in close smiling for the camera. To this day it amazed me how similar they looked. Same dark hair and same hazel eyes. Even the shape of their faces were the same. But John was bulkier with crows feet at his eyes and streaks of gray at his temples.
More than half of my memories from childhood were in the Fitzgerald house. In the kitchen or the backyard. Eating their food or shouting across the room like I was a member of the family because, to them, I was a Fitzgerald, too. The day Knox brought me home to meet his mom when I was an awkward, chubby fifteen year old she’d accepted me with open arms. It was a done deal after that. John always made sure his son was being a gentl
eman and Amy was letting me help in the kitchen. She taught me how to bake my first pie and gave me my first “talk”- yes, that talk- and all at once I understood why she refused to sell the house.
Too many memories.
Too much love.
I wouldn’t have given it up either.
“He was so proud of you,” she said now and smoothed a hand over my hair and leaned down to kiss my temple. “He was so proud of the woman you grew up to be.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I cleared my throat before turning and hugging her, squeezing her too tight. “I miss him.”
“I know, honey.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon going through old photos and eating our combined weight in chocolate chip cookies. As Knox was driving me home that night he had our fingers laced and the windows rolled down, the wind whipping my hair around as he sang along quietly to an old Van Morrison song.
This. This is what I want.
The thought hit me like a freight train. Driving in the middle of July with the windows rolled down and Knox’s fingers stroking over my knuckles was exactly what I wanted. I wanted the good, the bad and the ugly that came with being with him. I wanted our petty fights and stupid make up sessions and double chocolate muffins. I wanted Knox. Always.
“Hey,” I said quietly when we were stopped at a red light. He turned to look at me with a wide grin and I loved those laugh lines that appeared. “I love you.”
We sat there for a minute and I surprised myself by not freaking out. I wasn’t nervous or scared of his response. I was just… content.
