AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When we reached my father’s car, he attempted to pull me into a hug, however, I shook right out of his grasp, slipped into the back seat, and hung my head in my hands.
The drive back to the house was extremely unconformable and awkward as no one spoke. What was there even to say? The air became suffocating, and the tie around my neck strangled me until I finally loosened it.
My father hadn’t even put the car in park before I jumped out. I skipped changing out of my suit, grabbed my keys from the hook, and headed straight for my truck. There was only one place I needed to be.
It wasn’t until I was in Riley’s hospital room and safe in her arms that I let the immense pain unleash. She held me in her arms as I cried all the tears that had refused to fall during the funeral. It was then that I fully came to terms that today, I had said goodbye to my best friend—and it really was all my fault.
A shiver runs up my spine, shaking me from my thoughts. I could hide here in my truck, but that’s taking the cowardly way out. I’ve spent six years doing that while avoiding this town.
With every step I take closer to my best friend’s ultimate resting place, my chest gets tighter. I struggle to find my breath. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the ground in front of the stone where etched in the center readsHere lies Tanner Michael Hayes.
My fingers dance along the dash between his date of birth and date of death. How can something under two inches long be such a powerful thing? It represents how a person spent their time on this Earth. And for Tanner? It wasn’t nearly enough.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I chant, barely recognizing my voice over my sobs. His mother’s words are still fresh in my mind, playing on a loop. “It should’ve been me.” Tanner would’ve made the most of his life, not fuck it all up.
Living without Tanner, knowing that everything I do, he will never get the chance to, is a far worse pain than losing him to begin with.
Chapter 4
Riley
Withonelegproppedup on my bed, I finish lacing up my sneakers. I trace the long scar that runs down the side of my knee. The deep red hue has faded over time. The shade used to reflect my anger at everything this scar stood for, but as the years passed, I learned that every time I saw it, it was to remind me of where I’d been. I press a soft kiss to the skin before adjusting my capris to cover it.
A loud cracking sound fills the space as I press my hands into my knees and rise. Years of dancing earned me the daily soundtrack of snap, crackle, and pop every time I move.
I grab my phone and earbuds off the dresser before flipping the light switch off and leaving the room.
Stopping in front of the closed bathroom door down the hall, I can hear the shower running. I have no idea if he can even hear me as I tap my knuckles against the door. When a few seconds pass with no response, I twist the knob and partially open the door.
“Hey. I’m going out for a run.”
“Okay. Be safe,” the deep voice calls from behind the curtain.
“Always am,” I respond as I close the door and jog down the stairs and out the door. The warmth of the North Carolina sun, even in the early fall, kisses my skin as I bend forward, stretching out my calves. With my earbuds in place and phone secure in my arm band, I press Play. As the opening beats of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’s “Can’t Hold Us” fill my ears, energy flows through my veins. I bounce on my toes to get the blood pumping before setting off down the driveway.
Every morning I run, a way to clear my head and focus. It doesn’t matter that it’s Saturday and that I’m getting a later start than usual; my body craves its release.
With each slow-paced jog, I amaze myself that I am even doing this.
Take that, every doctor that said I wouldn’t be able to run, let alone dance again.It was hard work, but I was too determined for that accident that had taken everything else from me to take that away.
I’m a creature of habit. Every morning, I run the same route—down our road, turn left at the stop sign, follow Highway 15 to the cemetery, sit with Tanner for a few minutes, and run back. Yet today, I take a right at the stop sign.
The song changes to a quicker pace, and I up my speed, careful not to push it too far with my knee.
When a familiar white farmhouse comes into view, I realize I somehow ended up on Elm Street—the one road I’ve spent six years trying to avoid. Not that it mattered. I never had to worry about running into him since he hasn’t returned in six years.
As I approach the Graham house, a parade of cars lines the driveway and street. Shannon must be hosting one of her many committee meetings. That woman loves to plan. I try to think about what event she’s working on. Of course, the fall festival and Hootenanny. It’s just around the corner.
I bite back the bitter taste in my mouth at the thought of attending yet another one of these events where people of this town still stare at me. It’s been six years since the accident that rocked this small town to the core and changed all our lives, but I still hear the whispers. Folks think they’re being quiet, but I hear “she was in the car,” “it was her car,” and of course, the dagger straight to the heart, “that Graham boy left her behind.”
Without another glance, I pick up the pace, leaving the house that holds so many memories in the distance. Just like the boy who had my heart did with this town. Too bad while he left me behind, he took my heart with him.
I hit the next song, and with it, my highest-heart-rate track forces me to push that feeling of resentment down. What’s done is done, and I’ve moved on.
By the time I turn back down our driveway, my slight shimmer of sweat has turned into a full-blown hurricane. Here lies Riley Parker—death by drowning in her own perspiration.
As soon as I open the front door, a delicious aroma hits my nose. “Mm, something smells good in here.” I stretch out my arms behind me as I slowly pad my way to the kitchen to find Austin with his back to me.
