by C. Lymari
Ashton: Stop being childish, Freya, and come home.
Me: Fuck off.
Aston: I have been more than patient with you. All the things I’ve gotten you through the years. Let’s not forget, I could have pressed charges, but I haven’t.
I flung off my bedcovers, put on my slippers, and went outside. Grandpa wasn’t here; he told me last night he was going fishing with Rusty’s grandfather. This was a plus and a con for me. My grandpa could have talked me out of what I was about to do. I went back to my shed where all the boxes where perfectly stashed. It took me hours to go through all of them. Lucky for me the company Victor had hired did an excellent job of packing my stuff. As I opened each box, I knew what I would need from each. The only breaks I took where to send a message to Emma, letting her know I would not make it to work, restroom breaks, and to make myself a sandwich.
There wasn’t a need for coffee this morning because anger fueled me. I couldn’t believe Ashton threw in my face the stuff he bought me. Not only was it tacky, but it made him more of a dick. When I finally finished, I laughed hysterically. In front of me in a pile were five dresses, three pairs of shoes, and two little boxes containing earrings. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but we were together for a long time, and that’s all he ever gave me when I had a shed dedicated to clothes that I bought for myself, and the stupid bastard tried to make it seemed like he owned me. Grabbing the dresses and the shoes, I picked them up, surprised to see that the sun was setting. Great, my day wasted all because I was feeling brave and answered a phone call when I should have pressed ignore. I went to the far end of the yard and threw the dresses and the shoes on the ground before going back into the house to grab lighter fluid and matches. Then I set it on fire. Feeling like having a moment, I even went to the back of the trailer where Grandpa had wood and threw it in. It was childish of me to snap a picture and send it Ashton, but I didn’t care.
Me: There’s all the stuff you gave me. Now it’s gone, and so are you. Don’t bother me again.
As I watched the flames burn, I finally felt like I got rid of Ashton, the fire burning our time together away. That was until I saw cop lights right in front of me. Squinting, I smiled when I saw it was Dex driving. He was probably being funny. I figured he read mine and Rusty’s file.
I should have known better.
“Hey, Dex, if I knew you were coming, I would have told you to bring stuff to make smores.”
Dex didn’t smile back at me. Instead, he stared at the pieces of fabric that had yet to burn and the shoes, which hadn’t entirely melted, and then again at me. “What are you doing, Freya?”
“I’m burning the clothes that my ex-boyfriend tried to throw in my face that he bought me,” I said it like it was an everyday thing for me.
Dex sighed, put his hand on his hip, and said, “I wished you would have found another way to purge.”
“Why?”
“Because it violates the rules set by your landlord.”
I swear I didn’t mean to laugh, but now I knew Dex was joking with me. “My grandfather owns this property. I doubt he called the cops on me. Besides, he isn’t even here.”
Dex shifted a little before looking over to where you could barely make out the other trailers. Grandpa liked his space, so when he bought his land, he picked somewhere more secluded. “Your grandfather sold a while ago. The person who bought the property also owns all the five acres surrounding you. I came up here not because of the fire, but because someone made a complaint about the shed you built on property that isn’t yours.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Dex gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“You’re taking me to the station?”
“I’m afraid so. The landlords feel better talking to you at the precinct since you have a past with violent behavior.”
Eye roll. Violent behavior my ass. I was so mad that I didn’t bother to change. I told Dex just to go. He was kind enough to let me ride shotgun.
“What happened to your parents, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dex asked, and for once I didn’t mind that question. It distracted me from the sight of the Dunnett factory.
“It’s just my gramps and me. My mother was a drunk who drove herself off the bridge and drowned. From what my grandfather told me, she fell in love with a bad guy. He was a local who wanted an out, leaving her pregnant. No idea who he is… No one has come out to claim me,” I said as a joke, because it was true. When I was younger, I wondered if someone from town was my dad but didn’t want to fess up. “I lost my grandma when I was five. It’s only been Grandpa and me ever since. How about you? How did you end up in this little town?”
“My dad, he’s from here. He moved back a few years ago. I came back to visit, liked the town, and transferred.”
“You liked the town, huh? Nothing to do with a certain coffee shop owner?” I teased.
“Did she say something?” he prodded. Whoever said guys weren’t into gossip lied.
“I haven’t asked but only because I don’t want to talk about Max.”
“I thought you had a thing with Rusty.”
“Ew, that’s so gross, dude. He’s like my brother. Can I give you some advice?” A slight nod was all he gave me as confirmation. “I can tell Emma likes you, but maybe don’t come on too strong. You’ll only scare her away more. She’s always been shy; just give it time.”
By the time we got to the station, I had time to process what was happening. Why didn’t Grandpa tell me he was having problems? He could have called me and asked for help or money to buy land somewhere else. I wouldn’t have minded. Getting out of the car, I followed Dex to his office and sat on his desk while he called the landlords.
So many surprises these days.
I was trying to think of who could have bought our land. Since I didn’t bring my phone, I figured Dex wouldn’t mind if I borrowed the one in his office. I didn’t know many numbers by memory, but it was hard not to memorize the coffee shop’s number since it was on a decal on the window.
“Emma’s Coffee shop. How may I help you?” Emma’s voice was hesitant. I couldn’t blame her; I would be skeeved if the caller ID said police.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Freya, what are you doing at the police station? Is this why you couldn’t come to work? Do you need me to bail you out?”
“What? No! I’m just waiting for my grandpa’s landlord to show, I forgot my cell. I probably don’t have a lot of time, so can you tell me who it is? I don’t want to be surprised, because I’m tired of all these surprises; none of them are good. Like, why can’t someone come up and be like ‘Freya Pratt, you’ve won a new car?’ Or ‘hey, Freya, you’re back, so we baked you a cake.’” Emma didn’t have time to answer me because I heard Dex coming back.
“Too late. I got to go—wait—might call you about that bail. I forgot my wallet, bye.” I hung up the phone just as Dex walked in with Max.
You had to be shitting me.
“Did you just use my phone to make a call?” Dex asked me, but I ignored him.
“Seriously, Max!” I went off on him. “What happened to the whole ‘let’s be friends, Freya?’ and you go and call the cops on me? That isn’t very friendly. Back when we were children, I took the blame for spray painting the water tower so that you wouldn’t get in trouble, and you go and pull this shit.” I jumped off the desk, and that’s when I noticed I was still in the pajamas that said, “I freaking love sleep.”
“That’s some serious dick move, Max.” I went to hit him, or maybe I was just going to touch him, but Max caught my arm midstride. His hand wrapped around my wrist, and when I looked at Max, I took a step back. There was something in his gaze that gave me chills, and no not like Freddy Krueger chills, more like I kinda want to hump you chills.
This was bad.
But then his face morphed again to the same kind expression he had whenever he talked to me. Seriously, would it kill him to be a D-bag?
“I’m
sorry, Freya. I didn’t call you here. It was Mrs. Newton who made the report.” He sounded almost sorry.
“Why would she care?” I sounded stupid. Right, Mrs. Newton, she was Abigail’s mother.
“I bought the land a while back. Abigail wants to build our home there.”
His soft-spoken words shook me to my core.
“Oh.” The words were physically painful to get out.
Max was really over me, wasn’t he? He would marry Abigail and build their home atop the remains of my own. That’s why he was so nice to me, why it wasn’t an effort for him to be a gentleman with me because I didn’t matter. He wasn’t angry about what I did because he was over me. He was over me and I… I wasn’t over him. How many years did I spend running from what I felt, telling myself the exact same thing he said to me? We were children who didn’t know better. But I wasn’t a child anymore, and I knew deep in my bones I had never stopped loving him. I might have left this town seven years ago, but my heart stayed with him.
“I’ll pay for whatever damages. Just tell me how much, and I’ll write you a check,” I whispered. I couldn’t look at him because I still cared, and I didn’t want him to see how much he was hurting me. When I pulled my hand from his grasp, he let me go without hesitation.
“That’s unnecessary. I don’t need your money.”
It was the wrong thing to say to me at the moment. I was too raw, too exposed. I was feeling too much.
“Don’t worry, I’m more than good for it. I don’t want your fiancée and in-laws saying you had to take pity on trailer trash girl.” I couldn’t look up at him. I didn’t want to see what was behind those green eyes I used to love so much. Instead, I ran out. I ran because I was good at it. I was so good at trying to outrun my past; it was comfortable living in limbo.
Good things fall apart, so better things could come together. Well, what happened when the best thing you ever had fell apart? What came after that? Because I wanted to believe that I had something waiting for me; there had to be more for me than being the girl who got abandoned.
“Freya,” I heard Max call out, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want him to see me, not when all those broken pieces of me were out in the open. Not when a wound I thought had healed was bleeding, and his name wanted to leave my lips like a prayer. Some things were better off unsaid, and I had learned that lesson the hard way.
Maximilian Dunnett was the love of my life, but I was not the love of his life. Coming home was the biggest mistake I had ever made, because at least in San Francisco I was okay. Ashton cheated on me, but he never got close enough to break me because I never gave him all of me because all my pieces were broken, and I had never bothered to put them back together.
23
Freya
A lot could happen over one night, and I did mean a lot. I couldn’t believe I was willingly walking into Max’s office. This was not what I wanted to do first thing in the morning, but after I talked to my grandpa and begged him to move, to which he refused, I knew I needed to get us out of this mess. The land held sentimental value to my grandfather, and for him, I would beg to have it back. I just wished my grandpa would tell me why he sold it in the first place.
For a quick second, my hand wavered at the door. The shiny gold letters that read Maximilian Dunnett made me pause. He had achieved everything he had wanted, and for once my decision to leave didn’t sting as bad.
“Please go in. Mr. Dunnett will be here shortly.” I smiled at the older lady who pointed me toward Max’s office. She shouldn’t have left me alone. I would use the opportunity to snoop.
Max had several pictures hung, but none of them from around the time we were together. If what he wanted was to pretend like we never happened, he had done an excellent job.
My heel was tapping furiously on the floor, trying to synchronize to the beat of my heart. The pink stilettos matched my dusty pink lips; meanwhile, my black dress wasn’t revealing, but it clung to my every curve.
I looked good.
“There is someone in your office, Mr. Dunnett.”
“Thanks, Sandy.”
As soon as I heard his voice, my blood pressure rose. The room felt smaller. I really didn’t think this through. I should have stayed home and sent him a letter; that would have been wise.
Too late now.
When he walked in, he froze by the door. He did a slow blink, probably thinking the same thing I was. What the fuck am I doing here?
“Good morning, Mr. Dunnett.” I smiled at him. God, what was wrong with me? I was here on friendly terms, not to taunt him, but a part of me couldn’t resist. His hair still gleamed from his morning shower. I wanted to lean in and smell his bodywash and run my tongue along his neck. I needed to get my shit together before I did something I would regret. I crossed my legs, trying to put myself at ease.
Max’s eyes followed my movement, those green eyes going darker.
Was I affecting him as much as he was affecting me? Motioning to his desk, I said, “Please, have a seat.”
The slight tick of his jaw made me want to smile. When he walked to his chair, he moved agile like a cat. Instead of being scared, it thrilled me. “You do realize you’re in my office, sweetheart?”
He did not just call me sweetheart. But he had, and the room was getting smaller; it was also burning up. I cleared my throat because I needed to regain control of the situation. And my vagina.
“Hard to miss with all the photos of you.” Was I crazy jealous because he didn’t have a photo of me? Hell to the yeah, but he could have had a picture of him from our time together.
He seemed to get the dig, but that wasn’t surprising. Max knew me, all of me. He leaned back in his chair and looked at me like a hunter would his prey. “Is there a reason you are here, Miss Pratt?”
“You know why I’m here.”
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t follow your every move.”
“I didn’t say you did. You jumped to that conclusion all on your own.”
“I don’t have all day.”
“How much for my land back?”
There was something feral about the way he smiled at me. My skin tingled, and my body vibrated with want, waiting for his response. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware it was ever your land.”
“You know what I mean,” I said through gritted teeth. Seriously, who was this guy and where did the Max who’d been nothing but docile go?
“The land isn’t for sale, nor will it be. Eugene and I have an arrangement. If you don’t agree with it, you are more than welcome to move out. Or leave, that shouldn’t be a problem for you. Now, if there’s anything else I can help you with, please make an appointment with my secretary.” He looked down at his papers, dismissing me. I stayed seated like a dumbass, unable to move, too shocked to comprehend that Maximilian had just kicked me out of his office.
“What happened to us?” I hadn’t meant for the words to come out, but when his head snapped back at me and he froze me with his glare, I regretted wishing he ever hated me. His green eyes weren’t vibrant; they were cold. I never thought I’d be grateful for Abigail, but she walked in before Max could give me an answer.
“Honey, I have the best news—”
She halted at the door when she saw me seated across from her fiancé. I had to admit, the look on her face made me feel a little better. I smiled and gave her a wave. I didn’t need to pretend to like her any more than she did.
“I didn’t realize you were doing charity work.” Abigail’s sweet voice didn’t match the look on her face. She strode over to Max, glaring at me as she did. I gripped the edge of the chair, sure I had ripped it with my nails digging into the leather. That was a better alternative to getting thrown in jail for slapping the shit out of Abigail.
Because I let no one walk over me, I replied, “I didn’t realize trying to buy the land my grandfather lives on counts as charity.”
Abigail laughed then rested her left hand on Max’s shoulder, the engagement ring moc
king me. “Why don’t you start off by paying the rent he owes. Then maybe you can think about buying the lot… If you can afford it.”
Nothing made sense. What did she mean my grandpa was behind on rent? I sent him money every week, and he had his retirement fund. How could he not afford to pay rent? This wasn’t the time to think about it. Abigail didn’t get a front-row ticket to my family drama.
“How much does he owe you?” I was glad I was sitting when Abigail rattled off the amount. There was no way she pulled that number out of her ass. She had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to throw it in my face.
Dammit, there went most of my savings. Still, I said, “No problem.”
“Plus, interest.”
But of course.
“Give me an hour. Do you want cash, a check, or the money wired?” I was not getting a car anytime soon, but at least I wouldn’t be indebted to them. I was wrong about Max and Abigail; they deserved each other.
“You don’t have to do that, Freya,” Max said, but all I saw was Abigail’s perfectly manicured hand resting on his shoulder.
“I said I’ll have the money to you in an hour.” I got up, grateful my legs weren’t shaking.
Abigail smirked at me. “I’m surprised you have that kind of money. What did you do, get a sugar daddy while you were away?”
Because it would be so hard to imagine I made something of myself? So, I squared my shoulders, stood tall and proud, and gave them a sultry smile. “When you’re really good at something, you might as well get paid for it.” I gave Abigail a wink, refusing to look at Max’s face as I walked out of his office.
Once outside, I let myself feel. My legs finally gave up, and I shook uncontrollably.
Why did I keep making mistake after mistake?
One, my savings would take a hit because I was too prideful. Two, I told Abigail I was a whore—spur of the moment kind of thing. Three, I should have stayed home. I should have known Max would never sell to me.
I was so mad I didn’t notice where I was going until I bumped into Dex. “Ow.”
