Living With Regret (Rains Series Standalone Book 3)

by De Jong, Lisa

  Cory charmed the pants off me after we dated for a year, and we haven’t stopped since. Every moment we get alone is spent this way. Sixteen may have been a little young, but once hormones got ahold of me, they didn’t let go.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. He slides his hands down my sides, curling his fingers under the hem of my dress to bring it up. My breath hitches as he presses his fingers between my legs, tracing small circles where he knows drives me crazy.

  Maybe we should be afraid that someone will walk out here and find us, but we’ve done it a few times before. During the day, this course is full of people, but at night it’s complete solitude.

  “Not so bad?” He grins, leaning in to kiss me.

  “You’re all right.” He presses one finger into me, forcing a groan from my lips.

  “What was that, Rachel? I don’t think I heard you right.” His lips press against my collarbone as another finger enters me.

  I can barely breathe, much less talk, but he’s not going to let it go; he never does. “You’re perfect,” I gasp, feeling my walls clench around him. Every ounce of stress and tension leaves my body, giving me the relief I crave. He doesn’t move until I’ve come back down, a withering girl under his control. It never takes him long to get my body to react, and he knows it.

  I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, capturing his lips with mine. His fingers are still inside me, and it’s so tempting to beg him for another round. It’s always good the first time, but the second is always better. I want to be greedy. I want to beg for more, but I hold back, hoping to get another taste of him later.

  “Have you talked to your parents about Southern Iowa yet?” he asks, withdrawing his fingers from me.

  “I’m in,” I say with a huge smile on my face.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” I answer, leaning in to kiss his lips.

  He lifts my feet from the ground and spins me, not caring that my skirt is still up around my waist. “You’re stuck with me now.”

  “There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck to.”

  Things between Cory and I weren’t perfect during our first year at Southern Iowa. We had different priorities, and we’d each changed in our new surroundings. We didn’t have the risk or excitement that came with sneaking around. Things were just … different. Cory asked for a break shortly after Christmas, but I fought for us with everything I had. We planned on forever, and I didn’t want to let that go. He gave in to me, and I wonder now if it cost him everything. Did we have a fight that night? Is that why I was drinking?

  Things had been better that last month, but we were still fighting more than normal. I thought with a summer spent at home, we’d remember what it was that drew us together in the first place. Why we were inseparable for so many years.

  Now, I’ll never know. All I do know is I would have fought for him … no matter what. He meant so much to me. In a way, he’d come to define me. I was always where Cory was. I was happiest when I could breathe the same air as him. Now, when I have the strength, I’m going to be starting with a blank slate. I’m going to have to figure out who I am without him.

  The door clicks open. After one day, I’m already dreading that sound. I don’t want to talk to anyone … I want to stay lost in the good memories of Cory. Sometimes just thinking about him allows me to believe he’s still here. It’s my own world of pretend, and I just want to be left to play in it.

  “The doctor ok’d clear liquids. I have water and apple juice. I can also get you a 7-Up if you’d prefer.” It’s a different nurse than I had before.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, wiping tears from my cheek.

  She grips my wrist, pressing her fingertip to my pulse point. “Things get easier … with time,” she says, looking down at her watch.

  “I don’t think that’s possible. I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” I cry, staring up at the white ceiling tiles. The longer I’m stuck on my back, the more I wonder why they make the ceilings like this. They’re baron, depressing. The last thing anyone in a place like this needs is something to worsen his or her already depressed mood.

  The nurse remains quiet as she continues her work, keeping her eyes down. She’s the first person who’s been in this room today who hasn’t asked me how I’m feeling, and for that, I’m grateful.

  “Your mom was here earlier while you were sleeping. She went home for the night but said to call if you need her.”

  I just stare, feeling out of sorts. There’s a numbness where my heart used to be.

  “Before she left, she told me you know about the accident, and I want you to know I’m right outside if you need anything. All you have to do is push the red call button.”

  Still, I say nothing. This woman doesn’t know what I feel. There’s no way she can read what’s going on in my head. It’s just an illusion people use to get others to talk.

  “I know you’re probably thinking it’s better to keep it all inside because no one’s going to understand, but that’s not true.”

  My brows furrow as I watch her check the wraps they’d put on my legs to prevent clotting. They make my skin itch, but that’s the least of my worries.

  “My husband died a few years back. Farming accident,” she continues, checking the fluids in my IV.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever been through. Didn’t think I’d make it, but I did.” She stops, pulling my covers up. “He’s always here,” she says, placing her hand over her heart.

  “But I did it. I’m the reason he’s not here,” I choke, my chest noticeably rising and falling.

  Her hand touches my forearm—cool and comforting. “Forgiving yourself is going to be your biggest hurdle in letting go. Just remember no amount of guilt or punishment will bring him back.”

  My cries shake my body and soul, quickly turning to sobs. I knew the downpour would come eventually, but hearing another person confirm that Cory’s not coming back undoes me.

  “Let it out, honey. It’s the only way you’re ever going to feel better. I think it was at least a month before I let myself have a good cry, and it was the most miserable month of my life,” she says, patting my arm.

  Even if I wanted to respond, I couldn’t. My heart’s been shredded and spread across the floor. I’m just waiting for someone to come and walk on it. I deserve to hear the hate I feel within myself.

  June 9, 2013

  IT’S BEEN SIX DAYS since I woke up. Six days since this broken, crappy new life started … a sad, empty version of what I used to have.

  It brings me back to when I was younger, to the first time my life was lonely. My dad always worked hard, trying case after case as the county attorney. He was often gone before I woke up in the morning and came home late in the evening, many times after I’d already gone to bed. Since I’ve been here, I realize he hasn’t changed one bit. He’s only visited me twice, and our time together is full of excuses about why he hasn’t visited more. I know I’m never going to be able to change him, so I keep my mouth shut and make a mental note of what not to do when I have kids—not that it’s likely to happen now.

  Mom, on the other hand, was always busy keeping up appearances, a member of the church board and the PTA. Everyone thought we were a perfect family, but they could only see what was on the outside. They didn’t see the hollow loneliness within me. The girl who craved attention like an addict craves their next fix. All I ever wanted was a little bit of their time. I wanted them to get to know who I was, not who they wanted me to be.

  We lived on a ranch, a property my dad inherited from my great grandfather. We had a few horses, and when I was six, my parents let me get a puppy, which I named Toby. We were inseparable, and I was grateful for him because he filled a small part of the void my loneliness had created. I remember one day in particular … the day I met Sam. I was only eight.

  Mom has some of the church ladies over for afternoon coffe
e. She made me put on this hideous floral dress with a pink bow across the front this morning just for the occasion. I hate it, and after she finishes parading me around like a pony at the fair, Toby and I slip outside to hide away.

  It’s a sunny day so we decide to take a walk, ending up in the grassy field next to our property. There isn’t much to it—just a vast open area with extra tall grass bordered by a line of trees and a tiny creek. The best part is it’s hidden from the road and difficult to see from my house. It’s a perfect hiding place, just Toby and me out in the middle of nowhere.

  Deciding to defy my mom’s plea stay clean, I lay back in the grass, letting the sun beat down on my skin. I close my eyes and get lost in the serenity of summer, not opening them until I hear footsteps coming close. I never expected anyone to come out here.

  My heart races, especially after Toby starts barking because he wouldn’t do it if it were just Mom or Dad. They’ve told me time and time again not to come out here where they can’t see me, and of course, something really bad is going to happen to me on the first day I choose not to listen.

  Maybe if I lie still, whoever it is won’t see me. Actually, who am I kidding? Toby just gave us away, and I’m as good as dead. It’s probably one of the strangers they always warn us to stay away from in school. What am I supposed to do now? If they offer me candy, I’m definitely not going to take it.

  “What do you think you’re doing out here?” From the voice, I know it’s just a kid, but I’m still too afraid to open my eyes. I’ve always been a little shy; Mom points it out to me all the time when I hide behind her in church.

  “I don’t need to tickle you to make sure you’re still breathing, do I?” he adds.

  With the threat looming over my head, I finally open my eyes. Most boys are gross, but this one is different. He’s cute, like one of those boys from the Disney Channel. He has to be a couple years older than me because he’s so tall, and his blond hair is long, curling around his ears. Even though I hate boys, I don’t mind looking at this one.

  “That gets ‘em every time,” he jokes, crouching down beside me.

  “What’s your name?”

  He shrugs. “Do you really want to know or were you just looking for something to say?”

  “Just wondering if I should run. If you offer me candy, I’m out of here,” I reply, using my arms to sit up.

  “You’re safe. My name’s Sam by the way. I just moved in next door.” Since I live out in the country, next door doesn’t really mean next door … the nearest house is almost a half-mile away, so neighbors are harder to keep tabs on.

  “My name’s Rachel. I live right back there,” I say, pointing my finger back toward our property. I’ve lived in the same house all my life, a huge two-story white traditional with a wrap-around porch. “How did you know I was over here?”

  He lies back in the grass, much like I’d been when he walked up. “I didn’t.”

  “Oh, do you come out here a lot?”

  “Nah, I walked out here yesterday and noticed how quiet it was. Seemed like a good place to come when I needed a break from my dad.”

  Lying back in the grass, I’m careful not to get too close to him. I can’t believe I’m staying here, but if he really wanted to harm me, he probably would have done it by now. “I’m hiding from my mom.”

  I turn my head, noticing his eyes are on me. I can’t take the serious way he looks at me so I look up to the blinding blue sky.

  “What’s with the dress?” he asks.

  “I had to play dress up for my mom’s friends. And for your information, I hate this stupid dress,” I say, pulling at the pink bow that wraps around my waist.

  “If you say so.”

  We remain quiet for several minutes, enjoying the sounds and sights of nature. It’s serene, almost like we’re living in a whole different world by ourselves. It feels strange because I barely know this kid, but it also doesn’t faze me like it probably should.

  After a while, I just can’t take the silence anymore. “Why did you need a break from your dad?” It’s none of my business, but I’m still curious.

  He blows out an audible breath, rolling onto his side. “You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

  “Not any more than you do,” I shoot back quickly. I’ve always been quick on my feet; you have to be when your dad’s a lawyer.

  “Point taken,” he says, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “My dad drinks a lot, and I think he hates this place, which is just making it worse.”

  “I’m sorry. Where did you move here from?”

  “Washington.”

  “Hmm, there’s probably not as much to do here.”

  He laughs. “That’s an understatement. We’ve moved a lot, though, so I’m used to it.”

  “What does your dad do?” I ask.

  “He builds things out of wood, mostly cabinets and furniture. What about your mom? What does she do?”

  I shrug. “Throws parties and stuff, I guess.”

  We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about the places he’s lived and what he liked to do at each place. He also tells me the reason his dad drinks all the time is because his mom died soon after giving birth to him. Even though my mom makes me a little crazy, I can’t imagine what it would be like without her. It makes me sad, but Sam doesn’t seem as bothered. He says it’s hard to miss someone you’ve never really known, but he also admits he wishes he knew what it was like to have a mom.

  After a couple hours, I hear my mom yelling my name from across the field and sit up from the spot where my body had molded itself in the grass.

  “Are you going to come back out here tomorrow?” Sam asks, tucking his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts.

  I smile, thinking about the possibility of hanging out with him again. He’s easy to talk to compared to other people I know. “What time?”

  His expression matches mine. “How about two o’clock? My dad usually disappears into his shop by then.”

  I start walking backward, finding it difficult to look away from my new friend. “Bye,” I say, finally willing myself to turn around.

  “Hey, Rachel!”

  I look back, noticing he hasn’t moved at all from where I left him. His smile hasn’t fallen one bit.

  “Wear shorts tomorrow, and we can stick our feet in the creek.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I wave and take off running to my house with a grin on my face that hadn’t been there in a long time.

  That was the first time I spent the afternoon with Sam Shea. I used to escape with Sam, but I haven’t been to the field since I was fifteen. I’ve driven past countless times, watching the trees go by in my rearview mirror. It used to be a place for me to run to when I needed to pretend that the pressures in life didn’t exist. It’s easy to see why my mind would go there again. I wish it were that easy to escape from this.

  The door clicks, taking me away from my memory. That happens more than I’d like these days.

  A police officer walks into my room, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the chair next to my bed. I’m not surprised he’s here … just that it took this long. I killed Cory. I’m the reason he’s never going to take another breath, and I deserve whatever I have coming, even though it scares me to death.

  I’ve already condemned myself to a life in emotional prison, which might be just as bad, if not worse, than any small cell. And maybe by talking to him, I’ll be able to fill in some of the gaps in my memory. Maybe he knows something that no one else is telling me.

  “Miss Clark, I’m Officer Elroy.” He stops, watching me carefully before he clears his throat and continues, “I’ve spoken to your mom, and she told me that you don’t remember anything about the night of the accident, but I need to take a formal statement. Is now a good time?”

  I look away, focusing my attention out the window. Rain hits it, rolling down the glass, giving texture to the gray sky. It seems like it rains most days now, which is fitting to my mood. “Is there e
ver a good time for something like this?” I finally ask.

  “I guess not,” he replies, grabbing my attention again. He rubs his hand along his jaw. He’s older, probably my dad’s age, and his hair is speckled with gray, a sign that he’s lived through a lot in life. “Look, can you tell me the last thing you remember, before the accident?”

  Closing my eyes tightly, I recount the last memories I have of Cory. They really don’t explain much about how I got here. “The last thing I remember is sitting on Cory’s couch in his apartment. I had one more test to take before my freshman year was over, and then we were going to head back home. He was watching baseball … that’s the last thing I remember.”

  “Was that the day of the party?” He scribbles in his notepad.

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember talking about or going to any parties. What was the date of the accident? I don’t even know.”

  “The accident was during the early hours of May seventeenth.”

  I swallow, tears pricking my eyes. “Yes, it was the morning of the sixteenth. It was the last day of the semester.” I’ve forgotten almost twenty-four hours of my life. How is that even possible?

  He opens his mouth to ask me another question, but the door swings open and my dad comes barreling through with his briefcase in his hand. “Rachel, don’t say another word!”

  “She’s not under arrest,” the officer replies, clicking his pen a couple times.

  “Not yet.” My dad’s jaw works back and forth as he stares between Officer Elroy and me. I’ve always thought my dad was handsome with his chestnut brown hair, tinted with just a touch of red, and deep green eyes, but time spent in the courtroom has weathered him over the past couple years.

  “I was taking her statement.”

  Dad throws his briefcase on the end of my bed, eyes full of rage as he stares at the officer. “Read me everything she said, and Rachel, if he says one thing that’s out of line, I need to know.”

  I open my mouth to tell him it doesn’t matter because I don’t remember anything, but he holds his hand up to silence me. Officer Elroy repeats what I told him to perfection, appearing annoyed with the whole process. When he’s done, Dad looks at me again. “Did he leave anything out?”