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CHAPTER1
“Becca,are you going to stand out there all day or come in and help us unpack?” Mom called from the doorway as she watched me, her eyes clouded with a mixture of trepidation and sorrow.
“Coming. I’m coming.”
My eyes swept over the gray stucco house in front of me once more, sadness constricting my chest. Just turned eighteen, I had a life full of memories in another house—a much bigger and prettier house.Even though it was bittersweet and my throat burned with tears while I stared at the unfamiliar building, I felt a kernel of hope at what it represented.
No more secrets…
No more hiding…
No more lies.
Born and raised in Montecito, CA, I’d lived in one place my whole life. I could vividly picture the kitchen where Mom taught me to bake cookies when I was barely five. The doorjamb where Dad scratched a notch every year on my birthday. The porch that witnessed my first kiss while my parents pretended not to watch from the living room window. So many memories were wrapped up in that house. It had been more than a house.
It had been my home.
Filled with love, comfort, and happy times, it held memories of every significant moment of my life.
Drawing in a long breath, I rolled my shoulders back and forced a smile. Climbing the steps to the door, Mom met me halfway, wrapping me in her arms. “Let’s get things straightened out and then I’ll make us something to eat. It’s been a long day.”
She wasn’t wrong. Stuck in Dad’s truck on the highway for five hours in the balmy California heat hadn’t exactly been fun.
I shrugged out of her grip and met her eyes, aged with the events of the last few months. “Sure, Mom.”
“It’s going to be okay, Becca.” A sad smile tugged at her lips. “New town, new friends… a fresh start.”
My lips pulled into a flat line, and I nodded, hardly able to get the word out over the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
“Come on.” Mom took my hand in hers and guided me into the house.
My new home.
My fresh start.
Myescape.
* * *
“So I called ahead,and Principal Garraway knows to expect you.” Mom clicked her belt buckle into place, and I groaned, rolling my head back against the leather. “Seriously, Mom, I got this. It’s only school.” A new school, but whatever. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been to school before.
“I wanted to make things as easy as possible, Becca. You can’t blame me for that.”
Guilt twisted around my heart. Of course, she was only trying to help. It wasallshe and Dad had done since everything happened.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick with regret.
“Hey.” Mom’s hand squeezed my hand across the stick. “None of that. Your father and I would do it all again, in a heartbeat, so no more pity parties, okay? This is your senior year, baby. You get a shot at doing it right. New town, new friends, a fresh—”
“Start,” I finished.
It had become Mom’s mantra ever since Dad announced we were leaving and moving three-hundred miles upstate to Credence, a small town between Oakland and Hayward. Turning my head to the side, I watched the unfamiliar landscape rush past.
“It’s new for all of us, but I’m excited. Your father’s looking forward to getting started, and I can’t wait to christen the kitchen. Did you see the oven? It’s a baker’s dream come true.”
“That’s great, Mom.”
“You know, Becca, change is good for the soul. And while I expect Credence High is going to be different from Montecito Prep, it’s nothing you can’t handle.”
