Broken Promises (A Timeless Trilogy Book 1)

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Broken Promises (A Timeless Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

by Quell T Fox


  “That’s great Andrew! I am so excited!”

  No. I. Am. Not.

  He takes a set of keys from his pocket and hands them to me. “Why don’t you go inside and take a look around? I’ll start unloading the jeep and wait for the moving truck to show up. The master bedroom is upstairs, to the right. Straight through the double doors.” He gives my ass a squeeze as I walk by. I hear him laughing to himself as I continue towards the house.

  CHAPTER 2

  The inside of the house is different than I imagined. It’s just as beautiful as the outside, but in a different kind of way. The large picture window I’d noticed on the outside sits centered on the wall in the dining room. Basically, floor to ceiling. It’s stunning. I’ve never seen a window of this size in someone’s home before. There are hardwood floors throughout the house. Except for the kitchen and the four bathrooms that I’ve come across, so far. They have a similar styled white tile, with a swirly design that reminds me of smoke. Each room has its own color but all pastels.

  The walls are painted in neutral colors. With the age of the house I was expecting there to be gaudy, flowered wallpaper in every room. A small part of me was worried that our furniture wouldn’t match. Someone did a great job decorating. It’s simple but enough. The woodwork throughout the house must be original. It’s enough just on its own, not much else needed as far as décor goes. A few paintings hang on the walls, they too look like originals. I wonder who the artist is.

  As I continue to explore, I come across a few photos on the walls and placed on top of pieces of furniture that were left behind. The framed people don’t look familiar to me. Everyone is smiling and laughing. Some of the photos are in black and white, they must be old. I leave them where they are and make a mental note to ask Andrew about them. I’m curious to know who these happy people are.

  There are six bedrooms in this house. Six. Six bedrooms and two of us. Raven may end up with her own bedroom. Not that she’d ever use it. Cats never use the things you give them. You spend all kinds of money on fancy toys and beds and they’d rather sleep in an old pizza box. I would feel better knowing the rooms have an intended purpose.

  There is a natural homey feel to this place, it’s comfortable. You can tell this was a family home. It’s a shame that it’s not being used to its full potential. I hope one day it will make a family as happy as it’s seemed to have made Andrew’s. Maybe one day he will find the love of his life, they’ll start a family and they will all live here. Perfect parents, with the perfect kids, perfect lives and white picket fence. Maybe they’ll end up with the dog, too. Happily ever after.

  If I was going to settle somewhere, I could see it being in a place like this. Minus all the extra space, but I like the feel of it. The jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom sold me. I can’t wait to try that thing out. It’s on my to-do list.

  The moving truck shows up a few hours later. The drivers pull the truck around the back of the house. They drive right up on the lawn since the driveway ends at the garage. The lawn is nothing to be proud of at the moment, so I’m not even upset that they’ve ruined the grass. It gives me something to do. I don’t have a green thumb by any means. I swear plants die just by being next to me, but I enjoy trying. There is a sliding glass door in the living room that leads to an outside patio. It’s a more suitable area for the guys to move stuff since it’s level with the ground and the door is wider. Better to avoid carrying the furniture up the front steps.

  The thought of where the hell Andrew found these guys had crossed my mind a few times. When they get out of the truck, it’s no longer a question. They look like they could still be in high school, probably desperate for money. I don’t think it’s common to find people to drive across country to deliver furniture, but Andrew managed. If the price is right, anything is possible. Both boys have dark brown hair, dark eyes and skin that reminds me of a perfectly toasted marshmallow. I’m kind of jealous. I wish I had a golden-brown skin, instead of the pale outer shell that I was stuck with.

  The two moving boys are clearly related, possibly brothers. One is a good six inches shorter than the other. They’re thin and muscular. Wearing matching outfits on top of it. Tan cargo pants, black boots and white long sleeve shirts. Their pants are tucked into the boots and their shirts tucked into the pants…what is with all the tucking? Maybe they do this kind of thing often? Doesn’t seem like a bad gig, getting paid to drive people their crap that they don’t feel like lugging around themselves. I wonder how much that pays.

  “Afternoon, ma’am.” The short one says, as he places a stack of boxes inside of the door, against the wall. I smile my hello back and move towards the boxes. Shorty smiles politely in return before turning around and heading back outside.

  Ma’am? Do I look old enough to be a ma’am? I sure hope not.

  All the boxes just brought in are labelled for the bathroom. These boxes shouldn’t be too heavy. I try to pick all three of them up, like the guy who brought them in just did, but unfortunately my short arms don’t work as well as his long, lanky ones. Guess it’s going to be one at a time then. So much for the easy way out. One by one, I take the boxes to the bottom of the stairs and drop them there.

  The guys are bringing in boxes faster than I can disperse them throughout the house. I take each box they drop off, leaving two of the boxes marked for the kitchen. They are a tad too heavy and I’m not in the mood to struggle. The only boxes I decide to bring upstairs are the few we have marked for the bedroom. Most of our clothes are in bags, and I bring those up as well, throwing everything into a corner.

  I make my way back downstairs to see if there are any boxes left to sort out. All three of the men are bringing in the furniture, making me assume that the smaller items are all inside. I go outside, wanting to check the back of the truck for anything else that I could take in. Like a lamp. I spot two. I climb in and snatch them up, carrying them inside. I leave them on the floor against one of the walls by the basement door. I’ll find them proper homes once the living room set is brought in.

  They’re bringing in the last of the furniture when my stomach growls. When was the last time I had something to eat? Must have been breakfast. That was like eight hours ago! I run my hand over my face. How did I forget to eat? I never forget to eat. I am one of those girls that other girls hate. I eat whatever I want, whenever I want and as much as I want, without gaining weight. I think I spend most of my awake hours eating, to be honest. I’m not super thin, I have meat on me, curves in all the right places, I like to think. I fear that one day I am going to regret not watching what I eat, but that day won’t be today. I make sure to check my weight often, usually once a week. It fluctuates a few pounds up and down, but that’s about it. Lucky in some ways and unlucky in others. It’s called balance.

  I blame the extremely long car ride for neglecting my body with nourishment. I wanted to fly, but Andrew doesn’t like flying. He went on a plane once and said he would never do it again. It was the most terrifying experience of his existence. A bit dramatic if I do say so myself. He said he wouldn’t mind if I wanted to fly, he’d be okay driving alone. Doing that didn’t seem right. So, I told him that I would go with him and we could make a road trip out of it. That’s what a typical, loving girlfriend would do…right?

  It was a long drive here, but it wasn’t awful. We didn’t hit a lot of traffic or bad weather, fortunately. We stopped twice to sleep. Once in Nebraska (I didn’t even know they had motels there) and again in Ohio. Andrew insisted on driving the entire way, which I was okay with. I do enjoy driving, but it’s fine when I don’t have to. I got to nap and snack whenever I wanted. When it comes to driving Andrew is a bit of a control freak. I think it’s because his parents died in a car wreck. Being in a car makes him nervous if he isn’t in control. Totally understandable.

  “Andrew! I’m going out to find some food. I’ll be back soon.” I shout from downstairs because I don’t want to make the trip up. That is something I’ll have to get used t
o.

  I saw him and the tall guy bringing the bedroom furniture up a few moments ago, I don’t think they’ve come down yet. I’m about to turn and go when I see a shadow moving toward the stairs with Andrew following. He meets me at the bottom of the stairs, giving me a soft but quick kiss.

  “Have fun, love.”

  When I turn around to walk away, he slaps my ass. He touches it every chance he gets. Our relationship may be a bit odd. Well, on the outside it isn’t but it is in my head. Sex has always been good with us. I think that may be why the relationship has lasted this long. Good sex keeps me sane and it’s hard to find.

  There’s a lot of talk about women not being capable of having a purely sexual relationship. I could not disagree more. I have never had an issue with that, in fact it’s what I looked for in the past. The guys always turn into stage five clingers. Plus, they usually suck in bed but for some reason think they are King Shit. I’m not sure if it’s because girls do the whole faking it thing, or maybe they’re just too nice to tell them that they suck, not wanting to insult them. Either way, someone needs to tell them the truth and I’ve never had a problem doing just that…well, when it comes to sex.

  Ladies’, stop faking it, you’re ruining it for the rest of us. These guys have got to get their crap together and learn how to please a woman.

  You will never grow if you don’t accept your flaws.

  That’s life.

  I head back through the kitchen, barely stopping to pick up the keys from the counter where I had left them earlier. I walk out the front door, closing it behind me. I follow the path leading to where the jeep is parked. I get in and start it up.

  It’s a quarter of a mile from the house to the road. All I see is dirt and trees and grass and land. No houses. The trees seem to be acting as a natural property border, perhaps there are houses hiding beyond them. Across the street the dirt and grass are built up into what looks like a wall. It looks about twenty feet high and I’m curious about what is on the other side, if there is another side. It could be just a dirt cliff. Kind of looks like someone came through with a bulldozer and forgot to finish the job. Mother nature eventually took over, allowing the grass and trees to grow in. It’s interesting to look at.

  I open the GPS app on my phone and type in food near me. A few colorful bubbles pop up about fifteen miles from here. Fifteen miles? How convenient. I sure hope people around here believe in delivery.

  I turn left and go in the direction of food.

  It’s a quiet ride, only seeing one other car pass by me. Again, all I’ve really seen are trees and land and dirt. I passed by a few abandoned buildings, a cemetery and what looked like an elementary school but also could have been another abandoned building. I’m not bothered by the lack of human contact, both here and in general. I’m not a people person. Never have been.

  I’m stopped at a red light with about a mile left to go. I spot a bright purple building to my left. The front is covered with large windows and menus on both ends. It looks to have one of those sliding windows you would order at, instead of going inside. It doesn’t seem to have an entrance door at all. There must be one around the back for employees, at least.

  It’s a small building but it’s surrounded by seating. Lots of picnic tables, both the rectangle kind and the circular kind. There are colorful Adirondack chairs set all over the front lawn. Some in rows and some are circling fire pits. A few small ones that must be for children. Do they leave these out all winter? There is a large painted rock to the left. Based on the way it looks, seems like the customers did it themselves. That’s very creative. At the end of the parking lot there is a large sign in the shape of a cow with the words “Eva’s Ice Cream Shoppe” in bright purple lettering. An ice cream place, that sounds perfect right about now.

  Ice cream is my favorite. I decide to add this to my list of places to check out once the weather gets warmer. If I’m still in the area, that is. I make a mental note to look up their hours once I return to the house. Just in case.

  The light turns green and I move my foot to the gas pedal.

  “ASHA!”

  My foot immediately slams on the break. Natural instinct. What the hell was that? I scan the area around me, I don’t see a single person. Not one single soul. Even if I did, who do I know in Rhode Island? No one, that’s who. My heart rate starts to increase, I feel it beating heavier in my chest, but I try to keep my breathing regulated. Now is not the time for a panic attack. Not that any time should be the time for that, but I especially don’t want to deal with one right now in the middle of who knows where.

  I pick up my phone from the center console, unlocking it. Maybe someone called and I accidentally answered. That would make sense. Shit. No recent calls. Nothing. My palms are starting to sweat, and I realize that I’m now gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I loosen my grip and close my eyes for a couple of seconds.

  One.

  Two.

  Three...I count to stop myself from panicking.

  I know I heard someone scream my name. Clear as the road in front of my face. A deep, masculine voice. That’s what I heard.

  The light is back to red and I haven’t moved but a few inches. I continue looking around, but I don’t think I’m seeing anything, not really. I’m too focused on trying to stay calm for my brain to register what I am looking at.

  My stomach starts to turn, it feels like I’ve ridden a rollercoaster one too many times. Then I start to feel tired. Very tired.

  CHAPTER 3

  I’m sitting at a picnic table. It’s quiet. The only noise I’m picking up is the faint sound of the breeze blowing through the trees. I’m numb to the sting I would normally feel on my skin from the chill in the air. My vision is blurred. I rub my eyes hoping it will help to clear it up. My hands are freezing. How did I get here? My eyes move across the area in front of me, I see the jeep parked almost too perfectly between the white lines marked on the greyish asphalt of the lot. My car keys are directly in front of me resting on the table. I feel the dull pain of a headache coming on. The kind you get when you’ve slept too much. I blink a few times, trying to get my vision back to normal. I stand up, slowly. I’m not unsteady or dizzy, thankfully. I feel okay, other than the headache that seems to be getting worse and the stiffness in my joints from the cold air. I turn to look at the building behind me to see if anyone is around. Someone that could have seen something or could help me, but it’s off season and Eva’s is empty.

  I grab my keys from where they are on the table and slowly start closing the short distance to the parking lot. Nothing seems off about the jeep, even the doors are locked. My cell phone is still inside, right where It was, I think. Even the GPS is still on. My seat is in the correct position, hasn’t been moved back any. I check the time and it seems I’ve lost about twenty minutes. I wonder if I should call Andrew, if it’s a good idea to drive. I sit for a moment. Resting my head on the back of the seat, I try to gather my thoughts. Who did that voice belong to? Was it even real? There is not a single person around. All I see are trees that have lost mostly all their leaves. The branches eerily swaying from the chilly October breeze that’s blowing outside. There’s an empty road behind me, the parking lot is empty aside from me. There aren’t any other buildings that I can see from here. This place is like a ghost town and it’s creeping me out. I quickly decide that I am okay. Mostly, because I want to get out of here and away from this unsettling feeling. Plus, I’m starving.

  I am okay. I went over my name (Asha), birthday (December 5th) and parent’s names (Tom and Wendy). Ya know, the basics. Just to ensure my memory is fine. It seems to be working, as far as I know. I don’t think I have any brain damage. Not that I have any reason to in the first place, but panic does weird things to you. I suppose that exercise is pointless if I don’t have anyone to tell me whether I’m giving the correct information or not. My vision is finally back to normal. My head is starting to hurt less. Nothing is bothering me other than not k
nowing what the hell just happened to me. I start the car and turn out of the parking lot when the GPS tells me too. I’ve never wanted food as bad as I do right now.

  It takes me only a few minutes to reach my destination. Maybe I was driving faster than I should have, maybe I wasn’t. I stop at the first sign of food because I’m desperate to eat and get back to Andrew, someone I am mostly comfortable with. Not that I plan on telling him about this, he will probably think I’m crazy which will make me mad, or he’ll tell me I imagined it which will also make me mad. Better to just keep quiet about it. But my anxiety level is a little high right now and I could use some familiarity.

  The Submarine Shack. That is what this place is called. It’s not very busy. There are a few cars parked in front, which must belong to the people that are inside the restaurant. Through the large glass window, I see a couple sitting and chatting over their meal. They look like they get along well. I wonder how long they’ve been together for.

  There are only two people in line. A man who is staring down at his phone, the expression on his face tells me that he’s reading something intriguing. The other, a woman who is trying to settle her crying toddler that’s attached to her hip. Another reason that I don’t ever want to have children. Then there is the man currently ordering his food, who looks entirely too pissed off. What’s to be mad about when food is involved?

  No, I don’t like interacting with people, but I have always loved watching them. Humans are a fascinating species.

  I rub my hands over my face and let out a long breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. I tell myself that everything is going to be okay, even though I’m not sure if I believe it. I feel so…off, right now. My body is itching with energy, my skin crawling. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was glowing because that’s how it feels. Yet, at the same time, I feel completely exhausted. My body is relaxed and ready for sleep. I’ve never felt anything like it.

 

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