The pain in my chest is barely beginning to subside when I hear my phone beep, my eyes flying back open as I suck in a new breath.
Nope. Not giving up.
SPENCER: Avoiding me? That’s not very nice, Andi. I used to be your favorite. We used to be friends.
Past tense. I wonder if he even realizes what he’s said.
My fingers are poised to type a response when my phone starts ringing in my hand. There’s no avoiding him or his call. He’s going to continue pestering me until I answer him. Mainly because he knows I’ll give in eventually.
Spence would poke and poke and poke until we all gave in and he got his way. Whatever he wanted, he didn’t stop until he had it—from picking where we ordered takeout to what movie we were going to watch. If he had his heart set on something, he refused to give up.
Which means I will have to answer the phone.
Text feels like the safer route, and if I were at work, I’d have a believable excuse as to why I can’t take his call. Being that it’s Sunday, he’ll know I’m lying, and I’ve never been a good liar. I wear my emotions on my sleeve like a badge of honor.
“Hello, Spencer,” I state, attempting to keep my voice from shaking as I greet him with feigned enthusiasm.
“Andi. It’s been a long time.” He always was one to point out the obvious. “I’m surprised you gave in so easily. The Andi I knew would have made me try a little harder to get her on the phone. I had my money on at least three texts and five calls. Mia even guessed it would take at least two of each.”
The mention of Mia has me running my fingers through my hair and checking for split ends. I’d like to think she would be proud of me. For as much as I mess with my hair—straightening and curling it on a daily basis—it’s still healthy and free of damaging boxed hair dye. The worst product on the planet according to Mia. She would cringe whenever we walked down the aisle at the grocery store and passed the dozens upon dozens of tiny boxes.
“How much money did I cost you?” I ask, releasing my hair and letting the long curl fall across my chest.
Without Mia to style my hair, I haven’t cut more than necessary off in the last five years. A trim here and there to keep it healthy. I used to wear it just below my shoulders, framed around my face by long bangs. Those bangs have since grown out and it’s past the middle of my back.
“Nothing this time. We were both wrong, so no money is going to exchange hands.”
My hand flies to my mouth, covering the laugh that threatens to burst from my chest. Spence should know better. He may think he gets to keep his money but I’m sure Mia already has a plan for it and is currently on her Target or Amazon app making a purchase he won’t find out about until weeks after it’s arrived.
“Not to cut to the chase, but why are you calling, Spencer?” I ask, shaking away a memory of Mia with a sinister smirk on her face, palm out for Spencer to hand over his credit card the last time he lost a bet to her.
“Don’t you miss me?”
That’s a loaded question because I do. I miss all the friends I made in Great Falls, but the real answer is no. I can’t miss him. Because missing him, missing any of them, is too painful. And Spencer and Mia stayed after I ran.
“Spencer,” I growl, avoiding answering him.
“Listen, there is a reason for the call, but before I tell you I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course you do. You can ask, but I won’t make you a promise I can’t keep. You know that.” My voice is strong even though my hands are starting to shake.
When Spencer asks you for a favor, you proceed with caution. I fell for his innocent smile the first time and learned the hard way not to trust it. I’m sure he’s sporting the same smile right now, even though I can’t see him.
“Just keep an open mind before I tell you why I’m calling.” Or maybe he’s not smiling considering the serious tone he’s taking with me. When I don’t respond, he continues anyway, “Next Saturday is—”
“I know what it is, Spencer. Kind of hard to forget.”
As much as I’ve tried to ignore the looming date, it’s one that never goes unnoticed. It’s almost as if the calendar turns to March and the countdown begins. Ten days, then five. The days slowly tick by, taunting me with a constant reminder of what’s coming. Of what happened. Of the day I lost a piece of myself. The day my life was forever altered.
The reason I ran away from everyone I ever loved.
“Yeah. Trust me, I know. I’m still here. I relive that day more than most. But this year is the five-year anniversary, and the university and the town are putting together a remembrance, a celebration of life. Summer said she tried to contact you, but you never called her back.”
Summer’s called at least six times in the last week alone. Every single time I see her name on my screen I’m brought to tears. Not just one here or there, either. I full on broke down sobbing in my car for almost fifteen minutes the other day. My makeup was destroyed. My eyes were still red and puffy when I got home from work hours later. There’s no way I’d be able to survive hearing the sorrow in her voice, let alone the blame in her stare. I couldn’t even bring myself to say good-bye to her when I left.
“I’ve been meaning to,” I lie.
“I’m going to let that slide for now.” There’s a long pause before Spencer asks me the one question I have been dreading since my phone started ringing. There’s only one reason he was calling. The one reason I was scared to answer the phone. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to deny him his request. “Will you come back for the ceremony?”
“I can’t.” The words slip past my lips before I give them a second thought.
“You’re going to have to do better than that. I dare you to come up with a damn good reason you won’t be here to remember your best friend. To remember the person she was and the life that was cut short. You’re not the only one who’s still grieving, Andrea. None of us have closure, and sometimes it feels like the wound is as fresh as it was that morning. I’m hoping next weekend will help me move on. Help all of us close the door on that chapter of our lives and move forward.
“I won’t lie to you and tell you that it’s going to be easy. Hell, it’s probably going to be harder than I’m expecting it to be. If all of us are here, together, maybe that will help. And you’re the last one to agree. The only person holding out. The stubborn one of the group.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” I counter when he takes a breath, clearly frustrated with the fact I’m not giving in to his request. I can’t. I won’t be able to handle it. If I break down every year from two thousand miles away, it’s only going to be intensified if I’m back there. Where it happened. In the place that has the power to destroy me all over again.
It doesn’t matter if I’ll be surrounded by people who love me. Who’ve gone through the same thing. Loss is a crushing feeling, and my heart almost didn’t survive the first time. It hasn’t healed from the original blow.
“When it comes to the people I love, maybe I am a little hardheaded. It’s because I care. And honestly, I don’t want to do this without you. It wouldn’t feel right.”
Vivid images of Sam laughing, singing at karaoke night, purposely spilling drinks on rude customers with a sinister smirk on her face fills my mind. She was a wild child with a heart of gold. Her personality radiated off her in waves. From her funky hair to her second-hand clothes. Her style was her own—unique and quirky—and she was proud of it.
She didn’t want to be like everyone else. She did everything she could to stand out. It wasn’t for the attention, like most people assumed until they got to know her. No, Sam was afraid to blend in with the rest of the town. She was a big city girl living in a small town.
I miss her.
Every day.
Every time I pass a coffee shop I think of her. She always smelled like freshly roasted coffee beans. Her nails more often than not had coffee grounds under them. And even when she wasn’t working, she had a coffee in her ha
nd.
It’s why I’ve taken to drinking store-bought iced coffee. I haven’t visited a coffee shop or made a freshly brewed cup of coffee in years. I don’t even own a coffee maker anymore. The only coffee I consume is premade, flavored, crappy bottled coffee I buy in bulk. Vanilla and caramel, never mocha. Mocha was my favorite.
“Fine,” I hear myself mumble. What did I just agree to? Torture, plain and simple. “I’ll be there, just tell me when and where.”
“I’ll make you a reservation at the Hideaway and email you the information.” His voice remains flat, void of all emotion. I was expecting him to be elated with the fact I agreed so easily, but it seems my decision has made this all real for him. “And, Andi, thank you. It’ll be nice to see you, even if the circumstances bring back some of the most painful memories.”
Painful? Sure, but I’d go with a stronger word. Agonizing. Excruciating.
Take your pick on how to describe the feeling that’s been shackled around my heart for the last five years. I still can’t find an adjective to accurately define it.
My best friend was murdered.
Because of me.
I don’t think there are any words in the dictionary that can accurately define how I feel every morning when I wake up.
Shame for the secrets I kept from her.
Regret for my actions that led up to that night.
Guilty I’m still alive and she’s gone.
I’ve made a habit of washing away all those feeling in the shower each and every morning. I try not to carry the weight of Sam’s death with me to work. I can’t let the burden I feel get in the way of my job. I need to have a clear head at all times, and thinking about her, about what happened, tends to make the world around me disappear.
Muttering my thanks, I hang up on Spencer before I back out of the deal. I need to pack my battle armor because I’m headed to war. My head and my heart have been fighting each other for years, and this weekend will be no different. If anything, the battle will intensify.
My phone chimes in my hand minutes later with an incoming message. True to his word, Spencer has sent me not only a confirmation for my reservation at the Hideaway but also an itinerary. I need to buy a plane ticket and start packing. My schedule this week was already light because of the significance of Saturday. Knowing I tend to break down the day before, I was prepared.
I found that out the hard way. In front of my boss. The tears wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to explain why I was crying.
Still, this throws a hiccup in my already modified work schedule this week. I’ll need to cancel an interview on Wednesday afternoon—so I can catch a flight—and clear my schedule Thursday.
Sending my assistant an email, I attach the itinerary and ask her to adjust accordingly and book me a flight for as early in the afternoon as possible. With the time change, I’ll already be losing three hours. I’d rather not be checking into my room in the middle of the night. An hour later, I’m staring at my partially packed suitcases, a feeling of uncertainty washing over me.
I can’t do this. I can’t go back there. What the hell was I thinking agreeing to this?
I’m considering texting Spencer an apology when an email from my assistant with my flight information and modified schedule comes through. There’s no changing my mind now. This is happening.
I’m returning to Great Falls for the first time since I ran, almost five years ago. I swore I’d never go back. One bad memory overshadows all the good. And it’s that memory that’s the very reason for my return.
To honor my friend.
To celebrate her life.
To remember who she was before she was taken from us.
Because of me.
Chapter Two
One step at a time.
That’s what I kept telling myself this morning while I finished packing, shoving the bare essentials in my suitcase as it taunted me. Those same words were on repeat as I mindlessly drove to my only scheduled interview of the day where I took subpar notes that I’ll more than likely have to review more than once when I get back. And they were still my focus as my assistant drove me to the airport.
When she asked me what was in Tennessee, I couldn’t come up with a plausible lie, so I spilled the entire story. From starting college, falling for a man who wasn’t mine, and finally, Sam’s death and the significance of this weekend. Not a single tear fell the entire time I spoke. I kept my emotions on lockdown.
Pushed the tears away.
Forced myself to remain numb to the pain that was etched on my heart.
After Spencer’s call, the full weight of this weekend slapped me across the face. My emotions made me feel like I was standing on the ledge, ready to fall to my death at any given moment, but I vowed I wasn’t going to cry. I would make good on my promise—return to Great Falls, go through the motions, and allow myself to fall apart as soon as I was home. In the safety of my own apartment. Behind closed doors. Where no one could see me.
But this weekend? I was going to be strong. I was going to guard my heart and remain emotionless. If I allowed myself to feel, I feared I would shatter into pieces and never be able to put myself back together again.
It took me years to reach a point where I didn’t dream about that morning. About the phone call that changed everything or the guilt I still carry with me over the events leading up to Sam’s death.
The plane ride was a blur. Four hours of pushing away the memories that were trying to assault me. Keeping the fear at bay of reuniting with my friends. Facing them after running without saying good-bye.
But most of the memories were of Sam. Of her contagious smile. The way she used to twist the colorful ends of her hair around her finger while she talked about something that excited her. Or anything really because life was an adventure in her eyes.
There were other moments that kept trying to invade my thoughts, though. Holidays and birthdays. Parties, sleepovers, and camping. The first time I met Spencer. Moving into my apartment across the parking lot from him and Jay.
Jay.
His name alone causes my heart to race. The very thought of seeing him again makes my body hum with anticipation and dread. It’s been five years, yet I still remember the way it felt to be held in his arms. The way his mouth would curve into a smile against my lips right before he kissed me.
Spencer said I was the last to agree. That everyone was going to be there this weekend.
We were going to do this together.
Will Jay be there? I can only assume, but now I’m wishing I had asked Spencer directly.
The urge to run away again is overwhelming. Not just from the events of the upcoming weekend, but from the reminder of the weeks and months leading up to Sam’s death, from Jay and the butterflies that only make their presence known when I think of him. When I dream of him.
I can only imagine the flutter I’ll feel if I see him again. Hurricane force winds.
If I was going to turn around and head home with my tail tucked between my legs, I should have done it before now. My friends are expecting me to be there for them tomorrow morning. It’s a little late to change my mind. Especially with the city limit sign taunting me.
Welcome to Great Falls!
A small town with a rich history.
When I spot it in the distance my hands begin to shake, my grip on the steering wheel tightening as I force myself to pull over. Another five hundred feet and I’ll be in the place where my life fell apart. I’ve come this far, there’s no turning back now. I know this, yet I can’t seem to shift my rental car into drive. Or get the shaking to stop. Focus on anything except what lies ahead of me.
Lies.
Guilt.
Death.
The aftermath.
A celebration of the life that was taken.
I’ve spent the last three days dreading this moment. Contemplating canceling but unable to make the call knowing I ‘would let Spencer down. And Mia. And Summer. Everyone. I
’d like to think I’m not afraid of much considering what I do for a living, yet a small town in the middle of nowhere Tennessee scares the crap out of me.
Once I cross the invisible line in front of me, I know it’s all going to come back full force. The first time I visited here. How excited I was to finally be on my own, in college, far away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. Away from my parents and their upturned noses.
The fact they didn’t approve of my choice in universities was part of the draw. I knew they’d never come to visit. The nearest airport is over an hour away and Great Falls doesn’t offer five-star hotel accommodations.
And I was right. They never visited.
Not when my best friend was brutally murdered.
Not when I walked across the auditorium stage and received my degree.
Not even to help me pack up the life I had built and return home.
Not once did they step foot here in the four years I spent making this tiny town my home. A town I thought was safe until one night it no longer was. Where everyone knows everything, yet no one saw or heard anything when Sam was murdered. A place I thought I would never leave.
Until the day my grip on reality slipped through my fingers and shattered on the ground. I’ve picked up most of the pieces, but left behind a huge part of myself when I drove away that rainy late-April morning.
I came here an optimist. Anything was possible. My life was mine to mold. I could achieve every goal I set for myself as long as I put in the work.
The reality that life was fragile never crossed my mind. All I wanted was my freedom and the ability to build the future I’d been dreaming about for years. One where I was my doing what I loved, no matter if my parents approved or not.
A life I now have but feels less perfect than I had imagined. The life I can’t get back to until I face what’s in front of me.
You can do this.
It’s only a few days.
Letting out an audible sigh, I steer the car back on the road and pray for strength.
A Moment Too Late Page 2
