by S. M. Soto
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, her green eyes wide with worry. Forcing a smile to feign normalcy, I will my rapidly beating heart to slow, trying to rationalize that she’s not a threat.
Myrah suddenly glances near the hallway, then back to me, before she leans in and lowers her voice so no one else prying will hear her. “Can I ask you something?”
My brows tug down, and I frown. I nod my head, knowing I’ll probably regret it once she asks.
“Did someone hurt you, Bea? Is someone giving you those bruises?”
My heart stops beating.
Ice flood my veins. The tightness expanding in my chest from holding my breath makes me feel light headed.
I’m going to pass out. I know it.
Myrah watches me closely. Her green eyes searching my gaze for answers, and I pray like hell she can’t see. I can’t let her see.
As much as I’d like to spill my guts and come clean, I can’t. I’d never survive it. I don’t want Myrah to know the horrors of the last six years. No one deserves to know that kind of pain. If being her friend again means sparing her the truth, by laying my already flayed body out on that sharp, jagged knife, I will.
“No,” I say, keeping my voice calm and smooth despite that I’m screaming inside. “I’m anemic, so I’ve been bruising more than usual lately. It’s nothing.”
She doesn’t react, instead, she continues watching me closely. I shake off her worry by changing the subject to the next time we’ll see each other. Anything to get rid of the suspicious glint in her eyes.
Before Myrah leaves, we exchange numbers, as she promises to text me all day everyday just like we did when we were kids. The thought brings a smile to my face. I watch out the front window as she goes inside her own home that was once like a sanctuary for me when we were kids.
Just as she’s walking in, he walks out, and my breathing stops. Liam always had the ability to render me completely speechless, even when we were teenagers, but now…now he was a man. He was a man that made my heart beat faster and slower at the same time. When I looked at him, even from afar it was like no time passed. I wanted to jump into his arms and forgive him for leaving me. Forgive him for forgetting me. I wanted to pick up where we left off six years ago, but I knew that would never be a possibility. I was broken, damaged goods—trash—like Connor often reminds me. Liam didn’t need the weight of my problems on his shoulders. He deserved so much better.
Melody and I walk side by side through campus once class is dismissed. The warm air curls around me, bringing a smile to my face. It smells like trees and flowers—my favorites.
“I want to start living again,” I say suddenly, catching Melody off guard. She turns to me, and cocks her head to the side, almost as if she’s assessing how serious I am.
“How do I start?” I search her eyes for the answers.
She stops walking and makes a show of placing her hands on her hips. “Well, for starters, we need to do something about this hair, and Jesus, those clothes.” Melody groans, making me laugh. “Do you work today?”
I shake my head, hope building in my chest. “I have Wednesdays and Fridays off.”
She smiles deviously. “Perfect. First stop, the hair salon, then the goddamn mall. I swear on my Grandmother’s life if I see one more hoodie or another outfit that looks like a baggy sweat suit from the nineties, I’m going to stab you in the eye with a fork.”
I sputter a laugh and nod my head in agreement because she’s right. I was ready for a change. I was ready to take my life back—Melody style.
Nearly five and a half hours later we both finally plop down on Melody’s bed and stare up at the textured ceiling. My feet ache walking from store to store, and the muscles in my arms are fatigued from holding all the shopping bags. Six years of doing nothing but hiding has depleted all my muscles and any sense of strength I might’ve had before. I’m completely out of shape now.
“You look good, Bea,” Melody says proudly from her position on the bed. “It’s a start.”
“I can’t believe I dyed my hair,” I say, lifting a soft, curled wave, still trying to come to terms with tainting my virgin hair.
“Please,” Melody says, and I can practically hear her eye roll. “You played it safe with that caramel color. You should’ve gone all red like I suggested.”
A laugh bubbles up my chest as I picture Connor’s reaction to red hair. The image is so comical, I start laughing hysterically. Clutching my hands to my clenching stomach, I laugh so hard that I start crying.
Melody pulls me into her arms as my tears turn into gut wrenching sobs that wrack my body. Fear permeates the air around us.
“He’s going to kill me,” I sob. “He’s going to think I’ve told someone. This will make him tear me down more, won’t it? Oh, god.”
Melody caresses my hair while she coos in my ear. “It will. There’s no doubt about that. Let him think whatever he wants. He can’t hold you down forever, Bea. You need to let him see that. Stop being afraid, and live.” She puts emphasis on the word live, and I know that’s what I need to do. It’s what I should’ve been doing these last six years.
“You know, with your hair dyed that color, you really do look like Minka Kelly, now,” she says randomly, making me laugh through my tears.
“Are you still going on about that?”
“Hell yes!” she says in exasperation. “Look at this.” She pulls up the actress on her phone and I roll my eyes.
“The hair is about the only thing we have in common.”
“You seriously must be blind,” Melody quips.
Closing my eyes, I lay back down on her bed soaking in the comfort of her room. Her walls are vibrant, filled with different colors and random stuff. So much like her.
“Thank you, Melody,” I whisper, my voice trembling with gratitude.
“Don’t thank me yet, Bea. Thank me when you can finally breathe again. Thank me when that ache,” she says, gesturing to my chest, “finally disappears.”
Her words hit me some place deep. I want to breathe freely again without fear and the degradation eating me alive. I want to live like a twenty-two-year old should. I want to be Bea Norwood again. Not this helpless version of myself I’ve turned into.
I drive home with jumbled nerves thinking about my future and what it has in store for me. Things can go one of two ways tonight—Connor and Jenny can keep to themselves, completely forgetting about me, or, all hell will break loose once he sees what I’ve done. I’m praying for the former.
I suck in a lungful of air, hoping to ease the anxiety roaring through my veins, but it does nothing to help. I park in front of my quiet house, staring at the looming home with trepidation swimming through my veins. On the outside, it looks so normal and inviting, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Nothing about my household was normal or inviting. It was pure evil. The lights are on inside, they shine through the living room and kitchen drapes, so I know he’s home.
He’s always home.
On shaky legs, I climb out of the car, slamming the door. The sound echoes around me, making me cringe. Grabbing my bags from the trunk, I hobble toward the front door huffing in my duress.
Freaking Melody, I can’t help but think.
“Bea?”
The voice stops me in my tracks and curls around me like a snug glove. My throat tightens, and my heart just about bursts out of my chest. Slowly, I turn on my heel, finding Liam leaning against his truck with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. We don’t say anything. Instead, we just stare each other. The magnetic pull I’ve always felt around Liam is still there. It thrums from my toes through my fingertips. It’s all consuming—just like he is.
“Need some help?” He eyes my bags, and I smile awkwardly, nodding my head. His voice is deeper than I remember. There’s a raspy, gritty tinge to it that tugs at something deep inside me, making me feel off kilter. My heart races the closer he gets, and for the first time in six years, my stomach roars with the force
of all the butterflies taking flight. He takes the bags and I get a whiff of him. He smells just as good as I remember, if not better. Laundry detergent and mint. The familiarity makes me smile.
He walks me to my front door and we stand on the stoop staring at each other, waiting for someone to say something. The crickets chirrup together in an off-beat harmony. The sound echoing through the quiet street of our neighborhood. I’m acutely aware of the blanket of stars hovering over us, and the crescent moon, giving off just the right amount of light that it shines on Liam’s face perfectly.
“You look…” His voice trails off, like he’s incapable of finishing his sentence. He eyes me up and down in a way I’m not used to. Feeling self-conscious, I run my hands over my hair, worried he won’t like it.
“I just got it done today. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about it. A friend from school talked me into it,” I ramble, my feet shifting under the weight of his scrutiny.
The intensity of his stare hits me like a zap to the core. It’s forceful enough to take my breath away.
“You look just as beautiful as I remember.”
His words wrap around my heart like a warm embrace. Heat travels up my neck and face in embarrassment. My heart is like a stampede in my chest as I try to gather my emotions. Before I realize what he’s doing, his hand is already there, lifting a piece of my hair and rubbing it between his lithe fingers. My breathing stops, and my eyes flutter closed when he tucks the loose wave behind my ear. A shiver travels down my spine, but it doesn’t stop there, the effect of his soft touch has my body trembling uncontrollably. His hand lingers, gently caressing down my cheek, and I can’t help but lean into his touch. I don’t ever want it to go away. The intimacy of it makes my heart ache.
A longing I’ve never felt before tugs at every fiber of my being. I fight against the magnetic draw I have to him, not wanting to get hurt again.
God, I’ve missed him.
When I open my eyes, I find him staring at me with a look I’m all too familiar with. Heat. It rose in his azure blue gaze, prompting tingles to blossom through my stomach and the sensitive area between my legs. My chest rises and falls erratically as I try to accommodate my rapid breathing.
“Goodnight, sweet Bea,” he says in a gravelly voice.
“Goodnight, Liam,” I whisper.
The words echo through my head long after going inside.
Freshly showered, I climb into bed, running my fingers through my hair. It’s been so long since I’d gotten a haircut or done anything with my hair that it feels soft—luxurious even, so unlike my own.
Snuggling under the covers, I pull the pillow to my chest waiting for sleep to pull me under. When my bedroom door creaks, my body goes taut with tension. Instead of curling into a ball and praying it will be over soon, I shoot up, my gaze swinging toward Connor as he slips inside my room. A look of surprise flashes across his face, but its quickly replaced by brittle anger. My heart lurches, racing violently, so much so, I feel the bounding pulse reverberating in my throat.
“Connor, please…” I find myself saying, hoping, praying, tonight will be different. I want it to be different. Like a rubber band being stretched to its breaking point, his composure snaps and he stalks toward me with fire brewing in his eyes. I cower against the headboard, but his hand still finds its rightful place in my hair. Stinging pain erupts at the base of my skull and I wince, sucking in a pained gasp.
“Have you forgotten so quickly, Bea? I make the fucking rules. It doesn’t matter what you do, you will always be mine,” he growls, his nostrils flaring in anger. “You think a haircut, and new clothes will change anything?”
A helpless tear slips out of the corner of my eye. His words crush the hope that’s been building in my chest. All the possibilities are snatched away, along with my chance to breathe again.
Getting in my face, he hisses, “Nothing will ever change, little Bea.”
All my newfound hope is lost that night. The little sliver of self-worth I felt is gone. All of it, taken by Connor and everything else he’s stolen from me over the years.
The next morning, I find my shoulder bag tossed haphazardly onto the living room floor—not where it was left last night when I came home. My textbooks and class papers are purposely strewn everywhere across the floor. It’s a freaking mess.
Settling on my haunches, I gather everything as quickly as possible, stopping short when Connor casually struts out of the kitchen with a smug grin on his face. Anger surges through my body, knowing he did this because he feels threatened.
Bastard.
Connor slams the front door behind him on his way out, making me flinch. Blowing out a deep breath, I finish organizing my papers, and place everything back into my bag.
Bounding down the steps of the front porch, I hurry to my car on the curb, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat. Because I had to clean up the mess Connor made for me this morning, I’m running later than normal for classes. Swinging open the car door in my haste, I toss my keys on the seat. I’m just about to hop in and start the engine when I stop short, trying to remember if I forgot my cell phone inside. Grabbing my bag, I sift through its contents, only finding my wallet and house keys in the pocket. Blowing out a sigh, I swing the bag over my shoulder and hurry back inside to retrieve my cellphone.
With my phone securely in my pocket, ready to leave for class, I reach for the handle of my car door, but it doesn’t open. Coming up short, I tug on it again and nothing happens. My eyes hone in on my car keys sitting on the passenger seat. The same keys that I tossed inside so carelessly no more than five minutes ago. A groan tears past my lips and I drop my forehead to the car, banging it there repeatedly. In my haste to grab my phone, I forgot the car doors automatically lock when the keys are inside, and the engine isn’t started.
A wave of hysteria bubbles up my throat, as I think about my encounter with Connor this morning and I lose it. I yank on the handle like a mad-woman, like that will somehow get the door open. Pent-up frustration over last night causes me to kick the door repeatedly. The force from my kicks don’t even cause a nick of damage, which only fuels my anger.
“Open, open, open!” I huff out in frustration with each blow to the door. I fight with the hulking metal of the car for who knows how long.
I lose my footing on my next kick, and I tumble backward onto the pavement, scraping both elbows. The burning sensation from the skin being scraped off makes me groan in pain.
“Seriously?” I ask aloud, looking heavenward.
Was this really happening to me right now, on top of everything else I’ve endured over the past six years?
Un-fucking-believable.
“Bad day?”
I jolt at the sound of Liam’s voice. Every muscle in my body stiffens and my throat tightens with an overwhelming wave of emotion. Snapping my head toward him, my face heats to an uncomfortable degree, decorating my skin in tomato red splotches when his curious eyes connect with mine. My heart races in my chest as I try to scuttle to my feet. I didn’t even hear his approach, that’s how caught up I was in my anger.
Noticing my struggle to get up off the concrete, Liam reaches for my arm to help me up. Once his calloused hand wraps around my arm, a swarm of bees takes place in my stomach and my pulse pounds so hard, I hear it in my ears, feel it in my head. Electricity swims between us, it’s current strong and powerful. Just as powerful as it was when we were teenagers. Just thinking about it makes me smile, despite my crap morning.
LIAM
I watch her as she attacks her car and try my best not to laugh. It’s the most life I’ve seen out of her in weeks. It reminds me of the old Bea. The girl I had no choice but to fall in love with. She was a force to be reckoned with. If my attraction to her is any indication, I’d say she still is.
After a long discussion with Myrah and my agent Brent, I’ve decided to draw out my stay here in Lakeport. Spring training doesn’t start until late February, so that gives me time. Time to fi
gure things out and maybe even get some closure. I made a promise to myself and Myrah that I wouldn’t be leaving here until I knew what changed with Bea.
What the hell happened to my beautiful girl in those six years I was gone?
Suddenly, Bea loses her footing with a flailing kick, snapping me out of my thoughts, and before I know it, I’m running across our yards trying to help her to her feet. The moment those sweet eyes land on mine, I’m lost. They’re a caramel color today, it matches her hair almost perfectly.
One of the things I’ve always loved most about Bea is her eyes and how expressive they were. They were a beautiful hazel but depending on where we were, the colors would change. Sometimes, when we were in the field, her eyes would take on the exact same shade of green as the vibrant grass. It was a blend of forest green and golden amber. Other times, her eyes would look like smooth caramel or whiskey. Whenever we got done kissing, her eyes would turn into this mercurial blend of green, blue and brown. It was infatuating. She was infatuating.
I wanted that spark back in her eyes. The one that was always there when we were just two harmless teens in love. Without that spark, my Bea isn’t the same. And I won’t stop until I understand why.
As we stare at each other, I can’t ignore the intensity around us. The spark in the air between us is ever present, and the blood rushes through my veins trying to accommodate my rapidly beating heart.
“I just locked my keys in my car, and I have to get to class,” she breathes out, finally remembering the question I asked her. My eyes drift from her to the car, then back to her. It’s an easy fix, such a simple solution, but she obviously doesn’t know that.
“I can give you a ride. While you’re at school, I can get the keys out,” I suggest.
