Dad’s rough timbre grated against my skin, but even in my half-lucid state, I could tell that he wasn’t his usual angry. He sounded more…tired somehow.
I twisted in my damp sheet. “Water?”
He picked up a cup from the nightstand and held it to my cracked lips, tipping it back so I could drink. “Reckless,” he muttered. “What were you thinking? You know I don’t have time to nurse you.”
It came back to me in flashes. Mom telling me to hide. The slap. Running to the falls. Everly. “I went to meet Everly,” I croaked. “Then I wanted to wait out the storm.” And your temper.
Dad let out an exasperated sigh. “I should’ve guessed. Everly is a bad influence. Howard needs to take a stronger hand with her.”
I shuddered at the thought. “Where’s Mom? Maybe she could make me chicken soup.” I hurried to add the second part. I always needed a reason to ask for her so Dad didn’t get mad.
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he looked out the window. “She’s gone.”
I stiffened, my stomach cramping. “Gone?”
“Left last night while you were sick with fever. Said she was going to stay up with you. Instead, she stole my damn truck and took off.”
“N-no. She wouldn’t do that.”
His hard gaze cut to me. “Apparently, she doesn’t give a damn about either of us.”
I struggled to sit up, my head swimming. “You’re lying.”
He lashed out, quick as a snake, his palm cracking against my cheek. “I won’t tolerate insolence from you.”
Tears leaked from my eyes as the taste of blood filled my mouth. Footsteps sounded, then the door closed. I was totally and completely alone.
1
ADDIE
PRESENT
The warm, early fall breeze lifted my long hair as I walked down Aspen Street. I let the air fill my lungs, the scent of pine trees settling a peace into my bones. Not a day passed where I wasn’t grateful for the freedom I’d been granted. Something I’d almost given up hoping for.
I walked by the coffee house and some tourist shops, taking the time to admire the baskets of blooms that hung from antique lampposts. We wouldn’t have the brightly colored baskets of flowers much longer. The nights were already getting cold.
Refocusing on the path ahead of me, I made sure I didn’t crash into anyone while busy soaking in my surroundings. My footsteps slowed—the same way they always did—as I approached The Gallery. The shop tugged on me in a way I couldn’t deny—as if it were the sun, and I was a tiny planet beholden to its gravitational pull.
I stopped altogether. I didn’t have a choice. Someone had hung a new display. It looked as if it were comprised of various artists’ work—a mixture of photographs, watercolors, oil paintings, and statues. I fought the urge to press my face to the glass.
The photograph I could see best almost took my breath away. It was of a woman in a field; her face tipped up to the sun. The image itself was beautiful, but the emotion coming off the woman in the frame almost brought me to my knees. It was a visceral sadness. Grief.
I knew that emotion. We were so well acquainted, it felt as if the feeling had been scored into my bones at times. I didn’t know what this woman was grieving, but I knew that we shared that pain. Mine was a mixture of all sorts of loss. But most of all, sadness for how much life I’d missed out on.
I forced my gaze from the photo to a painting that hung next to it. The watercolor was brilliantly detailed. I swore I could feel the breeze that rippled the water. This one held a serenity that I knew it would pass on to its owner each and every day.
Every piece of art in The Gallery held a different sor
t of gift, and I loved imagining the type of person who would pick each one to hang in their home. My eyes shifted to take in the next painting, but I caught sight of something in the reflection on the storefront window.
Something about the movement was familiar. It had my heart picking up its pace and a wave of nausea sweeping through me. I stole a quick look over my shoulder, something in me needing confirmation. My father stalked down the opposite side of the street in that same prowling way I knew so well. A stride that spoke of the rage that lived inside him.
I struggled to get air into my lungs but forced my legs to move. I ducked into a small walkway between buildings, thanking my lucky stars that the height of the buildings cast the entire alley in shadows. Darkness brought fear to so many. But for me, it was solace and gave me shelter whenever I needed it.
I pressed myself to the cool brick of the building. The rough surface scraped the backs of my arms, but I ignored it, pressing myself flatter against the stone. I knew I likely looked ridiculous. People in town already whispered about my oddities. If they saw me now, it would only amplify their whispers.
My actions weren’t even needed. It wasn’t as if my father could kidnap me off the street. Yet, here I was, frozen to the spot. I’d made an art out of avoiding him during the year-plus I’d been free. I knew his typical schedule and did everything I could to stay out of town when I thought he might be around.