Shadows of the Past

by H. M. Ward

  “Fine,” I throw down the hanger and glare at her. “Since you’re so interested in his money, or Oliver’s money—yeah, James, that’s right. Sophia tried to get good old Oliver to take her back. When he said no, she decided not to dump you. You both deserve each other.”

  James growls and looks over at her. Sophia shrinks back a little and then glares at me. She laughs in a high pitch tone.

  “She’s lying. You can’t believe that!”

  “Believe what you want, but someday someone is going to sue his ass off, take all his money, and you’re going to wish you stayed with Oliver. Have a nice life.” I storm out before they can answer. I hear James scolding her as I shove out the doors.

  Tears of rage streak my face by the time I’m on the sidewalk. Can this day get any worse? It feels like I'm holding myself together with a thread.

  CHAPTER 39

  The walk home takes longer than normal due to my tears and leisurely pace. It's dark when I finally arrive, and the chill in the air makes me shiver.

  I stare up at the building, waiting to feel some form of comfort, but there's nothing. I'm still just as alone as I've ever been, and it's nobody's fault but my own. With a deep sigh, I trudge into the building, riding the elevator silently until I reach my floor.

  As soon as I open the door I know something is wrong. Emily is in the kitchen on the phone, her posture stiff. Her back is straight, and her hand is clutching the cordless phone so tight her knuckles have turned white.

  "I have to go," she murmurs into the phone as she turns to face me. "Yeah, I'll call when I know more. Okay, bye." Emily doesn't take her eyes off me while she speaks, and her eyes narrow when she places the phone on the counter and crosses her arms over her chest.

  "I just got an interesting phone," she says, studying me. Not sure what I'm supposed to say to that, I just stand, frozen, in the foyer. "A woman called. She was very nice, pleasant, you know?" I nod, and she continues. "The woman was calling from America." My eyes widen. Emily's voice turns hard, much like Sophia's was earlier, and my heart falls into my shoes. Oh shit. "Said she was your mum. Funny, that, seeing as how you told me you had no family."

  Fuck, fuckity, fuck. My horror must show on my face because Emily's face falls.

  "Is it true?" she asks sadly. "Is she your mum?" I can't say anything in my own defense, and my lack of denial confirms it.

  "Why?"

  I still don't answer.

  She asks again, voice much louder. "Why Kayla? Why did you lie to me?" Anger alone I can deal with, but the emotion in her voice is hurt. I can see the hurt in her eyes too.

  "Emily, I never meant for—"

  She puts up a hand, cutting me off before I can even begin to try to explain.

  "I felt awful for you, for your losing your family. I took pity on you because you had no money and told me you were broke when you moved in. I let you into my life, into my home, and you've been lying to me! And it didn’t stop. You’ve been telling me the same shit for months." She stops abruptly, turning her face away from me, but not fast enough for me to miss the tears gathering on her lashes.

  "Please, Emily. Let me explain." I take a step closer, and she turns back to face me, tears gone, her face shuttered.

  She steps back, and for just a second I can see the fear on her face. The fear stops me in my tracks, and I can feel tears growing in the backs of my eyes.

  Everything...my life...is crumbling around me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I've lost Oliver, my job, now Emily too? I don't think I can take it.

  "No," she snaps. "I don't want to listen to any more of your lies. You’re such a goddamn hypocrite!"

  Emily has been a happy, bubbly, friendly person the entire time I've known her, but the person yelling at me is someone new.

  "All the phone calls make sense now. The guy calling looking for you, the one I told you about before, he was trying to find you for a reason wasn't he? Oh, God, did you do something?" Her eyes widen, and I'm not sure if it's in fright or horror.

  When I don’t answer, she rushes on, "That's it, isn't it? You did something, and then you ran away from home, so you wouldn't get in trouble for it. You're a criminal or something aren't you?"

  She begins to pace, the words spilling out of her faster than I can comprehend. "That's it—you broke the law, left the country, and gave me a sob story so I wouldn't turn you in. How much trouble am I in? I'm going to end up in jail? I can see it now, Mum will wring her hands in distress while Daddy says, 'Emily Katherine White, what did I tell you about offering a stranger a room?'" She mumbles, "He'll be so disappointed in me."

  I told her the same thing I've told everyone else since I ran, but this is the longest I've stayed in one place; no one has ever found out the truth before. I wanted to tell her, I almost did, but I could never bring myself to do it.

  Seeing Emily hurting because of my lies makes me feel like a shitty, awful person. I can't blame her for thinking the worst of me. Knowing I need to calm her down, I try to placate her.

  "Emily, I promise, I'm not a criminal. It's not what you think. Just, please give me a chance to explain." She stops in the middle of one of her paces through the room, but she doesn't look over at me. Her stillness is the only acknowledgment she gives that she even heard me. "Please?"

  Emily finally nods, sitting on her pretty white couch and staring down at her hands while she waits for my explanation.

  "You're right.” I begin. “I did lie to you about my family. My mom and sister are both alive though I don't know anything about my dad. I didn't lie when I told you I don't know where he is—I haven't seen him for a long time." Thoughts are scrambling in my head as I try to come with something, anything, to tell her that will seem logical, but I'm coming up blank.

  “I ran away from home, not because I did something wrong, or because I'm a criminal. Some things happened, things I'm not ready to talk about yet, but I couldn't handle them and I left. I knew my mom would try to reason with me, to say anything she could in hopes of getting me back home, and I couldn't handle dealing with her on top of everything else."

  Emily still isn't looking at me, and I'm sure I'm about two seconds away from being thrown out into the street.

  I try harder, "I guarantee no one is going to come search your house, and find stolen goods or drugs or something."

  I smile at her, trying to make a joke out of it and get her to smile at me. If she does, I'll know I've been forgiven. She's not the type to keep a grudge or stay mad for long.

  "You know," she starts, her voice low, "you're lucky I don't cut people out of my life the way you do." I squeeze my eyes shut and relief that she's going to let me stay courses through my veins. "Maybe you should think about paying it forward, giving other people a second chance, maybe Oliver, maybe your family?"

  My head shakes before the rest of me catches up with her words.

  "I can't," I whisper.

  I should be alone. Scratch that, I deserve to be alone. I don't deserve happiness, love, or friendship. I deserve loneliness, pain, and despair.

  Emily is so angry she almost growls.

  "I can't believe you, you know? You've lied to me about everything since we met, but when Oliver fails to tell you one thing, you cut him out of your life like it doesn't bother you in the slightest. You skipped out on your mum and sis.” She shakes her head, disgusted. “I'm not that person, Kayla. I may not trust you anymore, but I'm not going to put you out."

  She looks up at me, eyes full of hurt, but anger too.

  "You may want to think about that. And while you're thinking, you should start looking for somewhere else to live, too." She gets up, her eyes sliding away, and walks slowly to her room. Her shoulders slump and I can tell she's giving up on me.

  Once the door to her bedroom slams shut, I drop my head in my hands, resting my elbows on my thighs and close my eyes. I'm trying desperately not to cry. My head jerks up at the sound of a throat clearing, and Emily is standing at the end of the coffee
table, as far from me as she can get and still be in the same room.

  "Here." She holds out a slip of paper, "This is your mom's number. She asked that you ring her mobile as soon as you returned home." Her voice is chilly, her tone formal, and I only stare at the tiny slip of paper she's holding out for me. It's trembling, letting me know she's shaking as well, but I just can't take it. I'm afraid if I have a way to contact my mom, I'll take it, and then where will I be?

  A few hours later I'm lying in bed feeling sorry for myself after drowning my sorrows in a bottle of cheap wine, and before I can talk myself out of it, I send him a text.

  - I kind of miss you.

  There. That wasn't so bad was it? I didn't say anything major, just that I miss him a little. I'll go back to being mad at him later.

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I jump, forgetting that I even actually sent the thing.

  - I miss you.

  It still shows him typing, so I don't say anything in return, wondering what on earth he has to say. I wasn't expecting an answer this late at night.

  The phone begins to ring, and Oliver's name shows on the screen. I absolutely wasn't expecting him to call, and if I hadn't decided to drink my weight in wine tonight, I wouldn't even think of answering the phone.

  "Hello?"

  His voice in my ear is deep, sounding like my text roused him from sleep. "Hi. I was just going to text you, but I miss all of you. Your voice, your face, the smile you give me when you think I'm not looking at you."

  My heart is going to tear itself in half. Not only did he call me, sounding sexy and sleepy, but he's also saying all the right things. Forgive him, Kayla.

  "Oliver." I try to say it as a warning, but it comes out more like a sigh. All these thoughts are racing through my head, but I have no idea what to say to him.

  "Are you still there?"

  I drop the phone and lose it in the bedding. “Shit!” It takes me a second, but I find it.

  Smooth, Kayla, real smooth. Texting him felt ballsy, but now that I'm sitting here, holding my phone up to my ear and waiting for him to say something, anything, I feel like the twit Emily keeps calling me.

  Blurting out the first thought in my head, I ask, "Are you and Sophie getting back together?"

  "What? No, of course not." Shock fills his voice like he can't quite believe I'm asking the question. "Is that what she told you? I told her that my heart belongs to someone else. That ship has sailed, sweetheart."

  I needed to hear it from him. I want to cry and beg him to forgive me. I shouldn’t have flipped out like that. But all I can manage is, "Okay."

  I don't tell him about everything that happened earlier. I don’t tell him that Emily hates me. I don’t tell him about my mom. He doesn't need to know about James and his creepy advances or me losing my job because of it.

  "Okay? That's all you have to say? Bloody hell, Kayla! I don't know how else to tell you I love you. Only you, no one else but you." Even his sigh sounds angry. "Look, it's late. We should probably both go to bed. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

  I nod my head, even though he can't see it before whispering, "All right."

  Before I can tell him I'm sorry, he disconnects, and I'm left holding the phone up to my ear, wishing I had handled things differently. I'm a fool.

  CHAPTER 40

  I don't know why I'm torturing myself by walking through Kensington Gardens. A week after cutting Oliver out of my life, and I'm walking through the place we spent the majority of our time together. Everywhere I look I see a memory. Barkley knocking me over, Oliver's smile as he helped me up. The embarrassment I felt the day I realized who he was has dulled, leaving only an ache when I think about what could have been.

  The grassy area a few yards away is where we played fetch with the dog. It's the same spot Barkley decided he wanted to be a lapdog and climbed onto me as I sat cross-legged against a tree, listening to Oliver talk. I can't even remember what he said that afternoon. I can only remember the smile on his face when Barkley dropped onto my legs, pushing all the breath from my body with his hundred pounds of muscle and fur.

  Is it stupid that I even miss his dog? I miss all of Oliver, his smile, his charm, even the way he teased me.

  Almost without thinking, I walk until I'm standing in front of the tree we always sat under, a feeling of melancholy settling over me. I sit down, my back against the tree, and shut my eyes to relive happier times.

  I block out all the people talking, children laughing, and dogs barking until it's just me with silence to keep me company. I concentrate on all the things I love about him and, not for the first time I wish I'd chosen differently, given him a chance to explain things to me. If he were here right now, I'd tell him I was sorry and ask for another chance.

  Feeling eyes on me, I stiffen, thinking Oliver is here to grant my wish. But, when I open my eyes, instead of Oliver standing at the edge of the grass, I see James.

  My blood freezes in my veins, and I stand slowly, not taking my eyes off of him. I don't trust the way he's looking at me, eyes narrow and just a little wild. Being alone with him is the last thing I want to happen.

  "Well, if it isn't my little dove," he sneers, stepping onto the grass as I start to back up, not watching where I'm going.

  I look around, hoping someone will see us and sense my distress, but no one pays us any attention. Right now, he's just a guy in a well-tailored suit, and I'm just a girl in yoga pants and a hoodie. Between the two of us, I'm the one who looks questionable. If I were seeing the two of us, I'd be more concerned about his welfare, thinking the ragamuffin was going to rob him or stab him in the throat.

  "Don't come near me," I finally say.

  Now that he senses I'm scared, his lips tip up in a feral smile, and he stalks toward me more confidently.

  "Ah, dove, don't be that way. I just want to talk."

  "Bullshit," I snarl. "You don't ever just want to talk." I'm watching him so intently I see the satisfied gleam enter his eyes before I trip over a root, and land so hard on my ass that it reverberates up my spine.

  James laughs at the sound of my pain, before grabbing my hand and hauling me up against him. Before I can blink, he traps my arms behind my back in one of his hands and cups my cheek with the other. He's gripping my face so tightly it hurts, and I can smell just a little alcohol on his breath when he leans in close.

  "You're a stupid little bitch." The venom in his words makes me flinch, but he doesn't let up. James shakes his head, eyes bright; he's enjoying both the proximity and the pain he's causing. "Did you really think you could tell me no and get away with it?" He laughs mirthlessly. "No one turns me down. Especially not some little whore who knows she can't do any better. You might have Oliver fooled into thinking you're more than a quick shag, but I know better."

  His hand slides around to cup the back of my neck, making it so I'm unable to turn away from him. I know what's about to happen, but between him holding my hands and the back of my head, I can't get loose.

  James smashes his mouth to mine, hard enough to make me gasp, which is just enough for him to slide his tongue into my mouth. I'm frozen in place, unable to find an escape when suddenly he jerks away from me.

  I'm free.

  He shouts in pain and I shake my head, trying to clear the horror of having him touch me from my mind. When I look down, I see him trying to unclamp Barkley's teeth from his ass. I can't help but grin with satisfaction at the stricken look of pain on his face, but before I get the chance to do anything, James kicks his leg back, hitting Barkley in the mouth.

  Barkley lets go, backs up and whimpers, leaving James free to stalk toward me again, only to be derailed by a fist in his face.

  Oliver stands just to James's side, his hair wild and his eyes angry. “Get away from her!” Before I can blink, he punches James in the face. His former friend drops like a rock.

  Oliver stares at me. “Are you all right?”

  I manage to nod.

  Oliver waits a seco
nd before he bends to check on Barkley.

  "Good job, boy," he murmurs, stroking the dog's head.

  The events of the last few minutes catch up to me as I watch wordlessly, growing confused. I don't realize my legs have given out until I'm sitting on the ground, tears running unchecked down my cheeks.

  Oliver rushes over to me, gingerly wrapping his arms around me. "Shhh, American Girl," he whispers, rocking me gently.

  My quiet tears turn to noisy sobs at the endearment I never thought I'd hear again. We sit in the grass, him comforting me silently, while I cry all over his sweater. It's the same one he wore when he took me to the castle.

  Once I've calmed, he helps me stand, calls for Barkley, and leads us over to the path, where he hands me the dog and his leash. With us safely removed, I see his jaw harden, and he turns to walk back where James is resting on an elbow, watching us warily. He crouches down, grabbing James by his collar and saying something to him in a voice so low I can't make out the words, only the menace behind them.

  James glances at me for only a second before Oliver jerks him hard, forcing him to look back in his eyes. Whatever he says terrifies James because his eyes widen, and he nods in agreement to whatever Oliver is saying.

  Shoving him back, Oliver stands and brushes his hands off, as if James were dirty, before walking back over to me. We walk away, toward the gates, but I can't help looking back to see James, still sitting on the ground, looking everywhere but at us.

  We don't speak as Oliver helps me into his car, nor do we talk on the short ride to my flat. The longer we go without talking, the higher the tension in the car rises until the sight of my building draws a sigh of relief out of me. Oliver helps me out of the car, and in no time at all we're standing in front of my door.

  I expect him to leave when I open the door, but he doesn't. Oliver pushes the door the rest of the way open, gesturing for me to walk in first. He follows behind me, shutting the door loud enough to make me jump before putting a hand on my back and practically pushing me into the living room.