by Ella Fields
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
FIND ELLA HERE
Copyright © 2018 by Ella Fields
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, resold or distributed in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations within a review.
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
FIND ELLA HERE
For my readers.
Thank you for giving my words a home within your hearts.
Seven years old
The grass whipped at my ankles, my lungs burned, and tears ran down my cheeks as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me into the field under the cover of a purple, darkening sky.
“Daisy!”
His voice penetrated my ears, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. That is, until a hidden ditch betrayed me and sent me tumbling to my butt.
Fudge nuggets.
Breathing heavily, I checked my ankle, then groaned, falling backward into the sea of dandelions as his nearing footsteps set the weeds swishing in a soft cadence that had my eyes closing.
I could feel the cool mud, thanks to this morning’s rain, seeping through my leggings and t-shirt. Even though Mama would spit fire at me, I couldn’t bring myself to sit up.
“There you are.” His footsteps stopped right next to my head. “Crap, I almost stepped on you.”
“Say it, don’t shout it, booger breath. Sheesh.” My eyes opened to find Quinn’s face blocking out the last hues of the sunset.
He laughed, then plonked to the ground, laying beside me. I kept my gaze facing upward, watching as night bled the last color of day from the sky, and a few stars started to twinkle into existence.
“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked after a minute. “Is it the rooster?”
I sniffed, wanting to lie, but I couldn’t. “Why’d your dad have to do that to him?”
“He says you can’t have too many roosters. Causes trouble among the flock.” He sighed. “Whatever that means.”
“Yeah, but I could’ve taken him home.”
Quinn laughed again, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. “What? And have it join Frederick? Your mama is already not on good terms with him.”
Quinn’s dad reluctantly let me rescue Frederick, the rooster, a few months earlier. He wasn’t exactly friendly or the cuddliest pet, but Mama took one look at the squirming chicken in my arms and my pleading, wet eyes, and said we could keep him until she found it a home. Turns out, no one really needed another rooster in our small town.
Good for me and Fred. Bad for Mama.
Fingers brushed against mine in the grass. I turned my head as Quinn’s warm hand wrapped around my own. “Your mama’s going to be mad you got all muddy when you didn’t need to,” I blurted out.
Quinn just smiled, displaying teeth too big for his eight-year-old face. And still, I thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Clarelle. Even when he pulled my ponytail too tight or thought it was funny to make mud pies and throw them at me. “She won’t care when I explain.”
“She’ll think I’m a crybaby one of these days.” The thought made my heart drop. But I couldn’t help it; I just saw another rooster run around without its head.
I just knew I would have another nightmare when I fell asleep.
“She’d never think that. She’ll call me smitten again and give me that weird look.”
My lips twisted to the side, and I watched his long lashes flutter as he kept his eyes steadfast on mine. “What’s smitten mean?”
He seemed to think about it for a moment, before shrugging slightly. “Heck if I know. Probably that I’m doing something silly again.”
“Did …” I swallowed thickly. “Did the rooster die?”
His light brows furrowed. “Yeah, Dais. It’s dead.”
Wetness trailed down the side of my cheek, escaping into my messy blond hair.
“Don’t cry.” Quinn’s face crumpled, and he squeezed my hand. “Hey, maybe we can bury him?”
Sniffling, I asked, “Really? How?”
He smiled and let go of my hand, getting up before grabbing it again to help me to my feet. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
We raced each other back to the barn, the sky now blanketed in black, and heard Quinn’s mom calling him from the porch of their big ranch-style home.
He hollered, “Two minutes, Mama!”
Grabbing the kid-size shovel from the set he’d gotten last Christmas, he led me over to the willow tree in the back field where our favorite tire swing swung gently in the breeze.
Sitting down, I watched as Quinn struggled to dig, then decided to help him.
I got on my hands and knees, digging at the dirt with my hands until we had a shallow hole that just might be big enough for the poor rooster.
Sitting on the tire swing, I watched as he raced back to the barn, listening to the sound of the crickets chirping while the cool air washed over my flushed cheeks.
He returned five minutes later, telling me to close my eyes. I did, knowing what he was about to pull from the sack in his hands. I heard the dead rooster tumble to the dirt with a thud.
“Okay, want
me to cover him up?”
Nodding, I opened my eyes but kept them averted while he shoveled the dirt into the hole we’d dug. When he’d finished, I quickly collected some rocks from the nearby creek and placed them in the shape of a star on top of the dirt mound.
“Why a star?” Quinn asked.
“So he’s not alone. He can play with the other roosters and chickens in the sky in his dreams.”
Quinn was looking at me funny when I stood, brushing the dirt from my hands onto my pants.
“What?” I asked absently and started walking back to his house.
“I’m gonna marry you someday, Daisy June.”
My breathing stopped at the same time my feet did.
Spinning around, I stuck my hands on my hips and planted a smirk on my face, hoping it hid the weird feeling bubbling in my tummy. “Really?”
He nodded, grinning like he did when he acted like he knew everything. “Yep. One day, after we get done with college and I take over this farm, you’ll be my wife.” He stepped closer, and my heart started beating scary fast. “And I’ll make sure you never have to see another rooster get its head chopped off again.”
Grabbing my hand, he leaned down, and I felt the warm brush of his lips on my sticky cheek.
He didn’t say anything else, and neither did I. We trudged back through the weeds with grins on our faces and the stars glowing behind us like a smiling audience.
I didn’t realize what had happened at the time. Why I felt like I could hear my heart echoing in my ears, or why I couldn’t stop smiling for days afterward.
Looking back, I realized that was the first time Quinn Burnell stole a huge chunk of my heart.
Present
Unpacking my comforter from one of the last boxes, I tried not to roll my eyes.
“Mom, you seriously left like an hour ago. I’m fine.”
She made a whining noise in my ear. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Sniffling, she murmured, “You’re just going to be so far away. I thought I could handle it … and, oh hell. Just let me wallow and worry for a little longer, okay? I need it.”
I wedged my phone between my ear and shoulder, tucking the last corner of the fitted sheet over the single mattress. “Okay,” I said, resigned. “I can allow it for another minute or two, I suppose.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “Don’t give me sass. Eighteen or not, I’ll make your daddy turn this car around, young lady.”
My dad said something to her in the background, and she sighed. “Okay, your dad says I’m being clingy, and that if I want you to still answer my calls, I need to ease up.”
I laughed then, grabbing my comforter and dragging it over the bed. “I love you, Mom, and if I miss your calls, I will call you back. Okay?”
She heaved out a loud, labored breath. “Okay.” She paused a second. “I love you, honey.”
“Behave!” my dad hollered. “Stay away from any alcohol you don’t pour yourself. Better yet, just stay in your dorm. If you party, you’ll fail. You don’t want to fail, do you?”
“Joseph,” Mom scolded. “Okay, we’re going. We love you!”
Smiling, I said, “Love you, too. I’ll call you soon.”
After hanging up and dumping my phone on the old beechwood nightstand, I grabbed my pillows and tossed them to the head of the bed before taking a step back to survey my new digs.
Not bad. Not great either, but I knew not to expect too much the minute I’d walked into the tall, brown brick building. I’d done my research online. No, more like obsessed. If I somehow managed to get lost after all the hours I spent squinting at maps, buildings, forums, and streets, then I figured I deserved it.
Gray Springs University. Finally.
Grinning, I glanced at the painted brick walls of the small room. They’d make it hard to hang much of anything on, let alone my art. But I’d sure try.
I’d just flattened the empty boxes and was putting them in the top of the wardrobe next to my old sketchpads and portfolios when the door opened.
“Mom, shit.” A girl with mousy brown hair stumbled in behind a small, robust woman. “You should’ve …” The girl glanced at me, wincing. “Knocked.”
“Hi,” I said, closing the doors to the wardrobe and tucking my hands in front of me. “You must be my roommate?”
“Pippa, the walls are bricks! How on earth will you stay warm in winter?” The woman clucked her tongue and glanced from the empty single bed to my freshly made one, realizing then they weren’t alone. “Oh,” she squeaked, her hand flying to her ample chest and a beautiful smile lighting up her softly lined face. “Sorry, I’m Terry, Pippa’s mom.”
She moved to shake my hand, and I slowly unfolded mine to let her.
The girl—Pippa, I was guessing—groaned. “I’m so sorry.”
I took my hand back, and Terry glanced at her daughter, her dark brows crinkling and her hands going to her hips. “Don’t be embarrassed, Pip. I’m just …” She stepped farther into the room, her nose scrunching as she ran a finger over the dust that lined the nightstand next to the other bed. “Worried.”
“Well,” Pippa said, “less worrying and more unloading, yeah?” She smiled at me. “What an introduction. What’s your name?”
“Daisy. I, uh, got here a few hours ago.”
She looked around. “Wow. You don’t waste any time.”
No, I thought to myself. I’d lost enough time. “Excited, I guess.” I swung my hands a little, then my eyes fell on the radiator. “There’s heating.” I pointed at it as Terry kept scanning the room and muttering under her breath. “My mom was worried, too.”
Terry stopped her fussing and glanced at the radiator. Walking over to check it, she smiled. “Good, good. Okay.” She clapped her hands. “Why don’t we all go grab coffee?”
I stood frozen, my eyes ping-ponging back and forth between Terry and Pippa.
“Mom, class starts in a few days. I need to get unpacked and organized.”
Terry’s lips twisted in thought, her eyes lighting up when they landed on me. “Daisy? We should get to know each other.”
“Mom!” Pippa practically growled, and I suddenly realized I had it pretty easy with my stage-three clinger of a mom. “Please. Let’s go grab my stuff.”
“Okay, okay.” She sighed.
“Can I give you a hand?” I asked, not wanting to stand around while they battled the three flights of stairs.
They both sent me grateful looks, and we spent the next twenty minutes lugging three suitcases, ten boxes, and three backpacks from their small SUV to our dorm room upstairs.
“That desk clerk doesn’t appear to be very lively,” Terry murmured as we made the last trip past the front desk.
She didn’t. She had her chin on her hand and her eyes glued to a magazine, only moving to lick a finger and turn the page.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Pippa muttered breathlessly, dragging the last suitcase behind her.
I placed the box I was holding on the floor by her bed and dusted my hands off on my dress. I needed a shower and cringed, remembering I had to now share a bathroom with other girls.
That could be interesting.
Pippa’s mom got to work, unpacking sheets and making the bed, folding clothes and putting them in drawers, and hanging the rest in the wardrobe. I was getting tired just watching her fast, efficient movements. She made it look easy with a smile on her face and purpose filling her every step.
Turning to me, Pippa whispered, “Wanna get out of here?” I glanced at her mom from my perch on my bed, uncertain. “She won’t know, trust me. I’ve got at least thirty minutes until she’s done.”
Shrugging, I followed her out of our dorm room, grabbing my keys hanging from the door, just in case.
The early September sunshine was beautiful, and being this close to my hometown had me breathing in nostalgia and exhaling excitement.
“Where’re you from?” I asked as we skirted around a shirtless guy who was carrying a mattress on his head from a
tall building a few doors down from ours. Pippa dragged her wide eyes from the guy’s bare chest and looked at me. “Willowmina.”
“Close by, then. What’s that? Around three hours north?”
She nodded and asked, “You?”
“Originally, Clarelle. Moved to Watson a few years ago.”
“You wanted to be closer to Clarelle?”
“Something like that.” I lifted a shoulder, my chest filling with bubbles of nerves and hope. Swallowing them down, I felt them curdle back to life in my stomach when we approached a group of guys on the sidewalk tossing a football back and forth. Talking, laughing.
My eyes widened, desperately seeking the one thing they’d been craving to gaze upon for two years. Realizing I’d been staring, I finally blinked as we passed them, whistles and catcalls following our slow gait.
Where are you?
“Must be one of the boys’ dorms,” Pippa surmised, glancing over her shoulder briefly. Pulling a tin of mints from her pocket, she popped the lid and held it out to me. “Breath mint?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
With a tilt of her shoulder, she chucked a couple in her mouth. “It’s a little weird, I know.” She tucked the tin away. “But I like to hold them under my tongue. I’m addicted to the burn.”
“So you like sour stuff?”
Her button nose wrinkled. “Blegh, no.”
“Oh, okay.”
We walked for another five minutes until we reached the outskirts of the university, crossing the street to find a string of shops. Despite not talking much and not really knowing Pippa, I felt comfortable.
I didn’t know what I expected to see days before classes started. Perhaps a frenzy of students everywhere. There were plenty of them, but Gray Springs was a relatively small university, compared to most, with a big focus on the football team, the Tomahawks. I assumed most people had arrived earlier than we did.
Pippa paused outside an ice-cream parlor that had a help wanted sign in the window. “Do you mind if I run in and grab an application?”
The wind knocked some hair free from my bun; tendrils tickled my lips and cheeks before I shoved them back. I gazed through the glass window. “Not at all. I’ll wait over here.”
Sitting down on a block of sandstone surrounding a garden bed, I watched Pippa through the windows as she walked to the bright bubblegum pink counter and spoke to a man who was wearing a cute old-school hat.
