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I swear I’ll walk the hours back to Farmington if Derrick calls wanting me to return. I realize looking down at the phone and seeing Dr. Miller’s name instead of his that any hope I have about the man and the time we spent together is a waste of energy, and it would probably be in my best interest if I try to forget the man.
I huff a humorless laugh as I walk around the side of the store, knowing that she’ll just continue to call. I avoid a dark puddle of what might be oil, taking a much larger step than normal to get past it. The call goes to voicemail as I walk a little deeper in order to get some privacy.
Just as I predicted, it rings again.
“Hello, Dr. Miller,” I answer, not bothering to hide the minor irritation in my tone.
She isn’t the type of woman to gloat with an I-told-you-so sort of attitude. She’s more professional than that. She’s more the type to confirm mistakes were made and structure a plan on how I can get back on track, a sort of lessons-learned approach.
“Good evening, Beth. How are you?”
“I’m fine. And you?”
The silence coming through the line is her way of giving me a chance to reevaluate my answer, but this isn’t exactly a conversation I want to have outside of a bus stop gas station.
“I think we have a lot to discuss,” I tell her.
“I think we do,” she quickly agrees, her tone void of judgment.
“I’m actually on my way back to town. Give me two days, and I’ll call and make an appointment.”
“I can schedule that appointment now if you like,” she offers. I know she’s doing her best to lock me into a promise, but I’m just not ready for any more of those.
“I’m going to need some time to lick my wounds,” I confess. “I’ll call in a couple of days.”
She sighs, knowing me well enough to know it’s the best she’s going to get out of me.
“Your therapy is very important, Beth. Please keep that in mind. There are people who are worried about you. I look forward to speaking with you in a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” I tell her before ending the call.
My eyes burn. I know that the woman is concerned for me, and she might possibly be the only one who is. I haven’t gotten a call or a text from any other person from Lindell, not even my brother.
I know I’m partially responsible for alienating myself from everyone. I’ve been unhappy for a very long time and avoiding people in town might’ve actually had an adverse effect on my reputation. I became the woman who purposely avoided conversation with others. I went out of my way to keep from having to interact with people.
Yeah, I’d go to the functions and chat a little when I needed to, like when buying something from one of the booths, but I didn’t really have friends to chat with. Shop owners were courteous when I entered but that was more about getting sales than anything else. It’s not a very good business model to be rude to your customers, no matter what rumors are swirling around town about them.
I look up at the now inky-black sky, knowing that although I couldn’t stay in Farmington, Lindell isn’t a good place for me either.
I could literally go anywhere. I can be anyone I want. Reinventing myself shouldn’t be that hard. It’s what I tried to do at the clubhouse, and it was working until it didn’t. But that was a relationship issue. I can be happy and have friends and not be in a relationship.
“I was looking for you.”
My skin immediately grows cold, my fingertips icy at the sight of the man from the bus standing in front of me.
“I had to take a call,” I tell him. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He crowds me when I attempt to go around him, and the only thing I can hear is my own breathing and my pulse raging in my ears.
When I take a step back, I bump into the side of the building, only no, not the side of the building I realize when warm arms wrap around me, one going around my waist and the other lifting to cover my mouth.
I struggle, trying to bite at their hand, but they have it cupped in a way over my mouth that I’m unable to get anything between my teeth.
Whoever is behind me is strong, and they easily lift me from the ground, my feet kicking out fruitlessly.
I’m carried further into the darkness, but when the person carrying me stumbles, a masculine “fuck” slipping past his lips, his hold on me loosens.
I use the opportunity to scream at the top of my lungs, but I barely get a second of my plea out before white-hot pain floods the left side of my face.
