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I wouldn’t exactly call the incident in New York tragic, considering there were much worse, actually tragic things going on in the world. But it definitely hadn’t been a good time.
“Is everything alright?” I asked, wanting to get to the point without being rude. The truth was that I was a bit off kilter after my run in with my still very attractive, very attentive ex boyfriend, and I was bone tired.
“Oh, yes, everything’s fine. I just wanted to call and see how my favorite daughter was feeling.”
I managed to refrain from pointing out that I was, in fact, her only daughter.
“But,” she continued. “Now that I have you on the phone, I… well, I’ve recently been in touch with that boy you used to work on your little school paper with. What was his name?”
“Caleb?” I asked as I plopped down into the same chair I sat in that morning.
Caleb Bishop. It had been a while since I'd spoken that name. We’d worked together on the school paper all four years of high school, but the last time I saw or spoke to him was at graduation. He’d been sweet, always offering to help out when my workload was overwhelming, and at least twice a week we stayed after together to work on our articles.
“Yes! Caleb, such a sweetheart. Anyway, I ran into him when I was out the other day. As it turns out, Caleb is a journalist for the Port James Tribune! How exciting is that?”
Exciting for Caleb? Absolutely. Exciting for me? Not so much. I leaned my head back and suppressed a groan, knowing exactly what my mother was getting at. Shouldn’t have answered the phone, I thought with a scowl as she chattered away in my ear.
“His boss is just dying to hear from you, Abbigail. They want to know all about the runaway Ashford girl. Doesn’t that title have a perfect ring to it?”
“No, because I don’t want to be referred to as a runaway.”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby. I think it would be great exposure for you, sweetheart. I really do. Don’t give me an answer yet, just promise me you’ll think about it.”
I clenched my jaw and then stood, stomping into the house while trying to even out my breathing. I’d been home for less than a week and already my mother was trying to hurl me into the spotlight. All I wanted to do was heal in peace, get my bearings, and figure out my next steps.
There was no malicious intent in my mother’s
actions. She thought that by helping me socialize she was helping me heal because, well, my mother didn’t know what else to do. In her mind, a party or a function or attention was the best way to move forward after trauma or loss. After my grandfather died, she threw a big party at our family home. After we lost a cousin to an overdose, she threw a charity function in the middle of town.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said as a headache started to form behind my eyes.
As I lay in bed that night- on a mattress much too soft for my mother- I stared at the ceiling and thought of Knox. The way he used to hold my hand and press my knuckles against his lips and the way he held my face between his big palms as he kissed me. So much control and a silent, subtle dominance. He’d owned my heart from the time I was fifteen. With one look, I was a goner.
I smiled, remembering the first time he’d kissed me. It was at Logan’s seventeenth birthday party. Our parents allowed Robbie and Logan to have a bonfire at the beach with all their friends but I wasn’t allowed to stay out any later than nine. Always the rule breaker when we were younger, Knox snuck me out of the house and walked me through the sand dunes, holding my hand the entire time. I was on such a high from breaking the rules and holding a cute boy’s hand that I didn’t realize he was pulling me in for a kiss until it was already happening.
At the time I was nervous and awkward and chubby. I had no idea how to kiss- what was I supposed to do with my hands?- and let him grab my face and slide his tongue in my mouth.
“Is this okay?” he’d asked me as we stood in the sand, the wind whipping around us.
I was unsure of myself but nodded anyway. Truthfully, Knox could have been asking me to dispose of a dead body and I would have said yes. I’d been so awestruck from the kiss that I didn’t even know I was nodding until he was leaning in again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he’d said against my lips.
“Stop talking,” I’d whispered with a laugh, trying to stand up on tiptoe- which is nearly impossible to do in the sand- and pull him closer.
That night was the start of everything.
That was ten years ago, and so much had changed since then. I’d thought my feelings for Knox had changed, too, but I was dead wrong. After seeing him for five minutes, I already wanted to see him again. Maybe I could stop by the gym and see him. Maybe-
“Absolutely not,” I whispered to myself and punched the pillow, fighting for some form of comfort and finding none.
Bet I’d be comfortable with Knox…
I growled and punched the pillow again.
My apartment was dark as I stepped over the threshold. The air conditioner hummed as I tossed my keys on the coffee table and dropped my purse on the ground. Another long, stressful day with no answers as to who was leaving those “gifts”. I was scared, alone in a big city and frustrated that after six months nothing had been done. In all honesty, I was actually considering going back to Port James because, even though I loved my job and the people I worked with, I didn’t love it enough to risk my sanity.
Or my life.
