Bound To

by Sionna Fox

  Jolene: They’re forecasting snow out here. Might come back early.

  I hesitated for a minute before I added another message.

  Jolene: I’ll miss you tomorrow night.

  I silenced the phone and climbed into the twin-sized bed I had to share with Izzy. The next two days were going to be so long.

  The message waiting for me in the morning had the flock of birds flapping around wildly behind my ribs.

  Matthew: I haven’t wished this hard for snow since I was a kid. I miss you too.

  He missed me. He missed me. He missed me. He missed me. I repeated the words in my head. We’d been spending so much time together I’d almost been able to ignore the voice asking why. Why did he want me? Why would he miss me? When was it going to end? I’d been too busy obsessing over how he wanted me, how each night we spent together would play out, how he would find new ways to torture and delight me, how each new toy or tie made me feel. More often than not, he left me so spaced out on endorphins and orgasms I could barely move, let alone reciprocate. But he missed me.

  I kept rolling it around in my head, trying to make sense of it. I was a lot of work. My naiveté couldn’t possibly be charming enough to make up for the additional effort of teaching, explaining, coaching, and coddling it took to get me where he wanted me to be. Unless that was a thing in and of itself, breaking in a new girl. I sighed and rolled off my narrow sliver of bed to search for coffee.

  My parents were gone already. My mother had left us half a pot of coffee, now lukewarm, and a list of chores. The price of admission to Thanksgiving was ensuring the house was near-spotless and the motley collection of rickety card tables from the basement were transformed into a buffet and seating through the magic of dusting and dollar-store tablecloths.

  I reheated two mugs for us, started a fresh batch, then took the coffees down the hall to wave under Izzy’s nose until she came fully awake.

  “Rise and shine, Valentine,” I crooned in her ear.

  Izzy mumbled and turned over.

  “Come on, we have to clean the house before my mom gets home or we won’t be allowed out tonight.” I set the mugs on the nightstand and plopped down hard next to her, causing the whole bed to shimmy.

  Izzy grumbled some more and pulled a pillow over her face. I picked up my coffee and settled against the headboard. Izzy was stalling, but I wasn’t exactly eager to get down to the business of cleaning house either.

  When I had drained half the mug, I tried again. “Izzy, come on. If you don’t sit up in two minutes, I’m drinking your coffee.”

  She cracked an eyelid and mumbled something that sounded like cursing. Finally, she sat up and held out her arms, making grabby hands at the mug.

  “You’re worse than a kid.”

  We spent the day ticking off items from my mom’s chore list. By the time my parents got in, the house was as clean as it was ever going to be, and we were more than ready to escape to the Penalty Box. We left and headed to the bar for the annual round-up of who moved away, who moved back, weddings, divorces, births, deaths, and accidents that happened the night before Thanksgiving in small-town bars everywhere.

  I was finally one of the ones who left and came back only to visit. It wasn’t the triumphant return I’d dreamed of back in August. I was still me. I just lived somewhere else. But people who’d barely acknowledged me before I moved wanted to know what I was up to, how was Boston, and did I miss home. I caught up with Maggie and Archie, and with Will and his brothers, all there to pitch in on a busy night. I made the requisite appreciative noises over engagement rings, pregnant bellies, and baby pictures. I was exhausted by the time we left.

  We crept back into the house late, and I half expected to find my dad sitting at the kitchen table in the dark waiting to catch us. We found a note from my mother instead, advising us that she would be up at the crack of dawn to put the turkey in the oven, so keep it down. It wasn’t getting busted sneaking in from a keg party in the woods, but it was close enough. I herded us off to bed, knowing all too well that we would still be expected up early to help out.

  Chapter Twelve

  I checked the forecast first thing in the morning. They were still calling for snow by Saturday night, cause for both relief and glee on my part. I would only have to make it through the day. We could leave tomorrow. To stay ahead of the weather and traffic, of course.

  “Izzy, would you be okay with heading back early?”

  She snickered. “Matt withdrawal?”

  “Don’t even say his name,” I hissed. “There’s supposed to be snow on Saturday, and I’d rather not get stuck in traffic with everyone trying to beat the storm at the last minute.” I said the last a bit louder than necessary, in case anyone was eavesdropping or the walls really did have ears.

  “Uh-huh.”

  I glared at her.

  “Sure, whatever. You’re the one driving.”

  One down, two to go. My dad would understand. My mother wouldn’t be happy. She’d try to guilt me into staying, but she would relent in the end. The rest of them… It was easy to forget what they were like when I was around them all the time. It was normal. Coming back was like a belly flop from the top of a cliff. When I’d still lived there, their questions were part of the fabric of my days.

  Did I think I was better than them? That I deserved more than marriage and kids and if I was incredibly lucky, working at the same job for thirty or forty years? Why shouldn’t I love Will Bennett? Did I think I was too good for him? Would taking over for Maggie so she and Archie could retire be so bad?

  I grabbed Izzy and hugged her hard. “Thank you.”

  She looked at me, bewildered. “You’re welcome, Mouse?”

  “Thank you for giving me the kick in the pants to get the hell out of here.”

  She grinned and hugged me back. “I’ve been trying to get you out of here for years, you goober. You finally listened.”

  I found my dad in front of the television, tuned into an early football game.

  “Daddy?”

  “Hey, kiddo. Your mom was looking for you.” He was already in his shell, bracing for the impact of the whole family being crammed into our house.

  “Oh. Hey, I think we’re going to head back tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be bad on Saturday.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t take his eyes off the television. “That’s probably smart, then. You should let your mom know.”

  I leaned over the back of the chair and kissed his cheek. “I will. Thanks, Daddy.”

  He snorted softly and shook his head. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

  My mother was trickier. Pulling her attention away from the food, getting her to listen, then getting her to stop haranguing me about leaving earlier than we’d planned was no small feat.

  “Mom, do you want me stuck somewhere on the Pike in a snowstorm?”

  “Oh, honey, you act like you haven’t been driving in the snow your whole life. You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m more worried about everyone else. We’ll be safer heading back to the city tomorrow.”

  My mother let out one of her long-suffering sighs. “Fine, Jolene. If that’s what you want. But we wish you would stay.”

  “Daddy agrees with me that we should head back tomorrow.” I sent up a silent apology for dragging my dad into it.

  She threw up her hands and huffed, “Fine. You do whatever you want. You always do.”

  I walked away rather than give in to the impulse to get into a fight with her right before the whole family was supposed to descend on us. I stormed off to my room, forced myself not to slam the door and scream like a thirteen-year-old, and paced, chanting, “One more day. One more day. One more day.”

  The front door started opening and closing. My aunts, uncles, and cousins called greetings while my mother directed the placement of dishes and desserts, along with the extra tables and chairs it took to seat us all. I listened to her marshal each new arrival like a general, sending
the women to the kitchen, the men to the basement, and the younger cousins to the backyard—don’t even bother taking off your coat, kid.

  Izzy cracked the door to my bedroom and poked her head in. “There you are. Nana Bates just pulled up with your aunt Maureen. Don’t leave me alone out here.”

  Nana Bates inspired equal parts awe and terror in most people. At four-foot-eleven and shrinking, and no more than ninety pounds soaking wet, she was a formidable adversary. She was a queen of the back-handed compliment, and a master at ferreting out secrets. Having grown up with her, I’d learned to feint, dodge, and tell as many half-truths as possible when in her presence. Izzy had no such defenses and Nana knew it. Izzy had watched the woman work her sneaky magic on all of us at one point or another, and she was terrified of being left alone with her, even more so now that I’d threatened to cut off her supply of baked goods if she dared breathe a word about Matthew.

  I squared my shoulders and pulled my back up straight. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  If the women in my family weren’t such stellar cooks, the whole godforsaken day would have been a bust. I kept my mouth full with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, casseroles, and all manner of pies as the day wore on. Better to be silently, or loudly, judged for eating while chubby than have to give more than monosyllabic answers between bites.

  My female cousins tried to pick up where their mothers had left off on Tuesday. I couldn’t remember if they had always been a part of the hive and I somehow hadn’t noticed, or if this was a new development. They tried flattery, fake jealousy, and in Tina’s case, outright bitchery to try to get me to spill more details than I was willing to give about my “new life” in the “big city.” Not one of them could hide the sarcasm. They wanted me to fail. They wanted to see me come back, tail between my legs, and realize I wasn’t ever going to change. I was always going to be sad, careening toward thirty, unmarried, no prospects, no children, lonely, boring, thinks-she’s-better-than-us Jolene. When Tina patted her rapidly expanding middle and assured me “this could be you, if you weren’t such a snob,” I had to run before I slammed my slice of pumpkin pie in her face or cried.

  I snuck down the hall and took my phone from my pocket. I needed Matthew. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t the person they thought I was. I was his little mouse, his good girl. I wasn’t a pathetic failure, pretending she could change. But he hadn’t signed up for that job either.

  Still, I sent a quick “Happy Thanksgiving,” and let him know I was coming home the next day. His rapid response and enthusiasm for the news that I would be in Boston in less than twenty-four hours had me grinning like an idiot. Until I turned around.

  “Jolene Mae, what are you doing on your phone?”

  Shit, she went right for the middle name. “Nothing, Nana.” Fake innocence never worked on her, but she’d snuck up on me and I didn’t have time to prepare, dammit.

  “Your boyfriend?” Her voice sounded so sweet, like she really was a nice, old lady who wanted to know how you were doing.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, Nana.” It wasn’t a lie. Matthew and I had never talked about our arrangement being about more than sex. If it was more than that to me, if I had hopes that it was more than that to him, that was between us. Nana was the last person on Earth to talk relationships with.

  “No? The man you’re seeing, then? A girl doesn’t smile like that over ‘nothing.’”

  “Just a friend from Boston saying Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, just a friend?” She frowned. “You obviously like him.” Her eyes traveled from my face down my body. Her expression was flat, but I knew from long experience to brace myself for what was about to come out of her mouth. “Well, men like a woman who takes care of herself.” She shrugged and patted my arm sympathetically.

  She will not win. She will not win. I wanted to lean into her puckered, sour face and tell her that actually, he had not a single problem with my squishy body and took vocal pleasure in each and every dip and curve. He might not be my boyfriend, he might be using me for sex, but he’d never had any complaints about my perfect tits or my big, round ass. But that would be telling her what she wanted to know. And hell if I was going to do that.

  I smiled sweetly, tucked my phone in my pocket, and told her I was going to find Izzy and help my mother with the dishes.

  When the leftovers had been divvied up, the kitchen cleaned, the trash taken out, and everyone had left, my blood pressure had calmed somewhat, and Izzy and I were allowed to retire to my room. We’d been invited to go midnight shopping with some of my cousins, which we had immediately and emphatically declined. I’d made that mistake once. The memory of being in the crush of people waiting to get into the outlets a few towns over was enough to give me the shakes. I flopped onto the bed, exhausted.

  “We made it.” I carded my fingers through my hair and pulled. “I swear to god, I will eat cold cuts on stale bread alone before I do this again next year.”

  Izzy flopped next to me. “Agreed. I have no idea how you put up with them when you lived here. Or how you came from them. I love your dad, and your mom’s okay when her sisters aren’t around, but your aunts are the worst.”

  “Eh. They mean well. Mostly.” I wasn’t in the mood to rehash all my family crap. We’d done plenty of it over the years. “I had a run-in with Nana, though.”

  She elbowed me in the arm. “You could have warned me. She came over and gave me all this fake concern that you had some terrible unrequited crush, and didn’t I think you’d be so pretty and have better luck with the boys if you’d lose some weight? I almost started laughing.”

  “Ugh. She caught me texting him and did the same thing. I came this close to telling her that Matthew seems to enjoy having more of me to play with, thank you very much.”

  “I would pay to see you go off and tell her that you’re actually having an appalling amount of dirty sex with a hot doctor.”

  I cackled picturing Nana’s face if I’d dared. “He’s not that kind of doctor.”

  “Whatever, he’s a researcher, but you can still call him Dr. Ward. Oh my god, do you call him Dr. Ward?” She grabbed my arm and shook a little too emphatically.

  “No.” My cheeks heated. “I call him sir.”

  Izzy snorted so loud I was afraid it would wake my parents. She muffled her giggles with the pillow, then turned to me, wiping her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It came out the first time we, you know…”

  “Fucked like kinky bunnies?”

  “Okay. We’re done. Goodnight, Izzy.”

  She snorted again and turned over. “Goodnight, Mouse.”

  In the morning, we tiptoed around the house, packing up our things, filled grocery bags with our share of leftovers, and loaded it into the back of my car. My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of black coffee. He was on call for any maintenance issues on campus over the weekend but was spared having to go into work unless needed. My mother was sleeping off the exertions of cooking for so many people and having them all crammed into her house.

  The day had gone off without a hitch. No one burned food, or made a huge mess, or threw a punch at Uncle Pete. Crises had been averted. Until Christmas.

  I grabbed a mug and sat next to my dad. He was quiet, even for him, and I knew all too well how having the whole family crowded around him took its toll.

  “You girls about ready to go?” he said quietly after several long draws on the contents of his mug. He drank coffee like we used to smoke, in long drags and sighing exhales.

  “Izzy’s corralling the rest of her stuff into the car, then we’ll be off.”

  He smiled fondly. “That girl does have a way of spreading her stuff out like a tornado hit.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You doing okay, kiddo?” Such a simple question with no simple answer.

  “I’m fine, Daddy.” I stared into the depths of my m
ug.

  “I know it doesn’t always seem that way, but your mom and I want you to be happy, Jolene.”

  I fought down the lump rising in my throat. It was hard for me to believe sometimes, but I knew my dad wanted to know that I was all right. That his baby was doing okay out there. “I’m good, Daddy. Promise.”

  “Good. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He stood and squeezed my shoulder. “Get on home then. I’ll give your goodbyes to your mom when she comes out of hibernation.” He took his mug to the sink, rinsed it, and set it next to the coffeemaker, at the ready for the next cup, and walked out of the room.

  I drained my own mug and put it in the dishwasher with a shaky hand. Home. This wasn’t my home anymore. And he was proud of me for getting out.

  Izzy waited for me in the driveway. I pulled out my phone.

  Jolene: We’re on our way.

  Matthew: Good. Let me know when you get in. I want to see you.

  Jolene: Yes, sir.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The drive was quiet. Izzy fell asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts for three hours, my family’s words wearing familiar paths in my brain. I had left, and nothing had changed. I had Matthew, but for how long? Maybe I was pathetic, collecting scraps of intimacy from a man who didn’t want to be my boyfriend. Maybe they were right. Maybe I belonged with them. Matthew would get tired of me and break my heart, because whether I admitted it or not, I was hopelessly attached and kind of in love with him. I would have to go back and spend the rest of my life remembering how I’d blown my chance to be someone else. I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel. I couldn’t let them win.

  I had spent the last three days fighting to keep them out of my head with their whispers and questions and backhanded comments. Their words buzzed in my brain. I needed Matthew. I wanted desperately to feel normal again, to silence the hive. I needed the pain and the pleasure of being under his hands, in his bed. I belonged there.