She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh.
"Blakely Grace, you can go away, but you can't run from this forever. You need to at least talk to Dakota."
I know he has been sending her messages checking in on me. I mean he messaged my damn boss for crying out loud. If he is anything, it's persistent. The look on his face as I handed him my ring is still burned into my brain. His eyes just filled with tears, and he didn't say a word. He didn't try to stop me. He just let me go. He knew that trying to stop me then would've been a terrible idea. I was in no state to explain. He sat in the back pew at the funeral and gave me my space, which I am entirely thankful for. I don't think I can provide him with anything right now, certainly not an apology.
I pull into the tiny lot at the Verizon store in town and place my broken phone on the counter.
"Rough day?" The tall and lanky guy behind the counter questions.
"Something like that," I reply, as he hands me my new phone.
"Do you want me to sync your contacts over?" I stare at him blankly for a second, then he starts to explain what he suggests as if I didn't understand.
"No, thanks, though." I blurt and try to rush out of the store as quickly as I can. The last thing I need is them trying to sell me a ton of add on's that I don't need. Especially since I just dropped two thousand dollars of my savings on a beach house in Wilmington for two weeks.
Going to Wilmington alone at 20... well, almost 21, is probably not the best idea I've ever had, but I have to be alone. I need time by myself to figure out what I need. If it's Dakota. If it's not Dakota.
The drive from Tennessee to Wilmington is silent. A long seven hours, give or take a few minutes for my bathroom breaks. The trip would probably be a little less quiet if anyone knew I had a new phone. I had the number changed, attempting to avoid as many people as possible. For now, that seems to be working. I whip the bug into a rather large truck stop right off the interstate and pull my phone from the cup holder:
Cami, It's Blakely. I have a new phone, I'm going to be in Wilmington for a while so don't worry. Pls don't give this number to Dakota. I promise I will talk to him soon. Just need more time. xoxo
There. Someone besides my mom knows where I am. I merge back on the interstate, plug in my phone, and open Spotify. Thankfully I remember my sign-in information to get my music. Music heals me more than anything. Of course, I put on my favorite, Ed Sheeran, and sing along about building a lego house. The buzzing of my phone makes me jump entirely out of my seat. It hasn't gone off in 6 months, and the sound makes me sick to my stomach. I open a text from Cami:
Ok, thx for telling me. I won't give Dakota your number, but I won't lie to himif he asks about you.
I gulp. The lump in my throat starts burning more and more, and before I know it, I'm pulled over on the side of the interstate spilling my guts on the shoulder. The thought of having to face Dakota after everything makes me physically sick every time I think about it. I feel terrible about leaving him, but he isn't as innocent as they think. We both made mistakes and how I even ended up in the church about to marry him in the first place still blows my mind.
Cami can tell Dakota where I am, but he won't hunt me down here. I need time.I need space. I feel like such a coward hiding from everyone, but for once, I'm going to take my therapist's advice and work on myself.
The drive to Wilmington flies by as I am completely lost in my music and thoughts. The GPS tells me I have arrived at my destination, and I put the car in park. I utilize my new phone to pull up the email to get the code to get into the house. I hop out of my car and grab my bags out of the trunk. The code doesn't work the first time, so I instantly start to freak out but it turns out I entered it wrong. Typical.
I open the door and flick on the light. It's beautiful, not the typical beach house. It's not very big, which was expected since it's a one bedroom house, but it's more than enough for me. The floors are old-fashioned hardwood, and there is a charming stone fireplace at the center of the main room. The kitchen is very modern, white with black appliances and black and gray tile and matching counters. I walk through beautiful white glass French doors with white curtains to find the bedroom. It's cozy and has an oversized California King bed and bathroom.
I lock the door and make a glass of water, grabbing my keys to make sure I locked the bug and head to the bed. I plug my new phone into the charger—no new messages.
I can't help but smirk at myself. Who would message me? No one knows the number but my mother and Cami. Neither of which wants to talk to me anyway.
I swipe a tear that I instantly feel trickling down my cheek. Why am I crying? I feel so pathetic. The pain I feel seems never-ending. For what seems like the millionth day in a row, I am trying to fall asleep on a tear soaked, mascara stained pillow. It just hasn't gotten any easier, and I wish for one night I could forget.
The sun shines through the curtains as I roll over to check the time. I have no clue what time I went to sleep. I hardly even keep up with time anymore. It's half-past eight, and my bladder is half-past full. I jump up quickly to go pee. I wash my hands and glance at myself in the mirror. My hair looks dull compared to the shiny dark brown it used to be, and my skin is clear. My freckles on my nose and cheeks are more noticeable than usual due to the fact I haven't worn makeup in what seems like an eternity. I flip my head over and gather all my hair and pull it into a quick bun. I remember I need sunscreen. I burn so quickly, and all I need on top of this mess I'm in is a sunburn. I squeeze out a glob and rub it between my hands and onto my face. I throw on a suit, t-shirt, and flip flops and head out the front door.
The walk to the beach isn't very far, and honestly, just being out in the salt air makes the sides of my mouth tilt upward into a half-smile. I walk up some wooden stairs and out onto the sand. I set my gaze out into the ocean, and for the first time in months, I feel calm. The line where the sky meets the water draws my attention and makes me realize that something is more significant than what I'm going through.
The anxiety seems to wash away. The cool water flowing over my purple painted toes feels like a relief. After sitting most of the day on the beach, I skip lunch, which isn't anything new. An appetite isn't something that I've had much of here lately. Some days I have forgotten to eat altogether. I pull out my phone and turn it to the camera and snap a few pictures. The pier is in the distance, and there is a little girl down the beach hunting for seashells. The pictures just don't do this place justice and what it is doing for my soul. Memories are more precious to me now than ever, so I've decided to make sure I capture everything because the memories will be all we have left in the end.
It's about 4:30 when I decide I better pack it up and figure out what I will do for dinner. Plus, with it being nearly November, the second the sun starts to fade, it gets cold.
The walk back to the house seems longer than it was before. I put the code into the door and push it open. I throw my bag down near the door and nearly jump out of my skin.
"Who the hell are you?"
I'm confused when I see a man leaning against the counter. My first instinct is to start backing toward the door. His face is perfection, with sharp jawlines and a beautiful complexion. Honestly, he looks harmless.
"Judson, nice to meet you too, feisty," he responds with a smirk.
"Hi, Judson, where I'm from, most people knock on the door. How did you get the code anyway, and what are you doing here?"
"I own the house. I got the code because I created it. I was dropping by to leave you a key. I noticed a longer than usual rental, so I figured it'd be easier than the code because the codes expire every two days." He pushes a single key across the counter at me.