“No.” Well, I take that back. “Yes.”
“And they are?”
There’s a fire of vehemence growing in the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard dousing the flames in saliva, putting them out. “I play the guitar.” Not that that is a great accomplishment yet. I suck at it.
His eyebrows shoot up. “You do?” His voice goes up an octave.
“I do.” I lean back in my seat. “I didn’t say I was very good, but I’m learning.”
“I think that’s awesome.”
“I think it will be awesome when I can play multiple songs all the way through without messing them up,” I comment with a laugh. The only one I can play all the way through is Achy Breaky Heart. The chord transitions are really easy and on top of that, I have an App on my phone that breaks it down for you so you can play along with the song.
“Hey,” he shrugs, “everybody has got to start somewhere.”
“This is true.” Bright red flashing tail-lights distract me and I peer at the car in front of me. “Well would you look at that.”
Ray follows my gaze then opens the passenger side door. He quirks me a grin. “Looks like you’re going to make it home after all.”
A smile pulls on my lips. I want to scream finally! Instead I keep my voice level. “Sure am.” I glance at the clock and we’ve been stuck in traffic for over four hours. “About damn time too.”
I close my eyes and I can practically feel the softness of my pillow as my face sinks into it. Feel the warmth from my down comforter spread from my toes to my fingers as I cocoon it around my body. This entire day has been exhausting and I can’t wait to welcome the deep sleep I so desperately need. I’m a firm believer that time, travel, and intense situations can wear a person down. Like a piece of uncarved wood before a carpenter has begun to whittle it.
I’ve hit my quota of intensity for the day.
My muscles hurt.
My joints ache.
My eyelids are starting to get heavy.
Now I’m thinking about the sweet, sweet dreams my mind will welcome when I hit the sack.
Ray steps out of my car, places a hand on the roof and hangs down into the open door, facing me. “Well Duchess,” he says in a light-hearted tone. “Safe travels.”
I beam back at him. “You too, Ray.” He turns to leave, but I halt him with an adamant tone. “Wait!” He stops and hangs through the door again. “Thank you for the hot chocolate,” I tell him. “And thank you for helping me. You’re an awesome guy. I’m sure you’ll make some lucky lady really happy one day.”
“Not a problem.” He smirks. “And thanks. I’m pretty sure we’ll cross paths again someday.”
“Huh?” I scrunch my nose, giving him a confused look.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Never mind, Duchess. Never mind.”
“Okay. One more thing, though.” I beckon him closer with my fingertip. He leans all the way into my car across the passenger seat and I strategically place a soft kiss on his cheek. He backs away still holding his cheek, wearing a quirky grin and I whisper, “You wouldn’t take any money, so…”
He cuts me off, “Are you kidding?” He straightens his stance outside of my car. “That was the best form of payment I’ve ever received.”
Redness spreads taking up residence in my cheeks. “Be safe now.”
“You too, Sadie.”
After he closes my door and I can’t wash away the smile from my lips. I can’t help but think that maybe loosening up every once in a great while isn’t such a bad thing after all. And I can’t keep my eyes off of Ray as I watch him walk back to his truck through my rearview mirror.
Chapter Eight
Traffic starts moving.
At a very slow pace, but still.
At least it’s moving.
All three lanes of cars are huddled in bunches. Creeping forward. Stop and go. Stop and go. Stop and go. I’m at the point where I don’t even care. I’m finally getting somewhere and that’s all that matters.
My cell distracts me when it vibrates in my middle consul. My Mom.
Again.
Kudos to the woman for texting.
I silently ponder how long it took her to type out the message.
Then I laugh to myself.
Sadie! Text me back.
She gets two words from me.
Can’t driving.
A second later.
TEXT ME BACK!
Oh snap.
All caps.
She’s pissed.
Breaking free from the stop and go movement of clustered traffic, I press lightly on the gas pedal going fifty miles an hour, pick up the phone, and dial my mom’s number. She picks up on the first ring. “Damn it!” she hollers. “Why can’t you answer the phone or respond when I text you?”
I remain calm and reply, “Look Mom, I’m sorry. Traffic just started moving and I’m on my way home.” She’s frustrating and persistent a lot of times, but that’s only because she’s a great Mom and she worries about her children. She’s told me my whole life that you never stop being a parent no matter what age your kids are and I know that that is definitely a true statement.
She lets out a long, weary sigh. “Okay. Thank God. Text me when you get home. I don’t care what time it is, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I mean it Sadie.”
Oh, I know she means it believe me. When I was growing up if I was late for curfew she wouldn’t sleep. She’d pace back and forth all night long until I arrived home safe and sound. I have since learned that that is a cruel thing to do to your parents. She’d only get huffy and angry because loves me and cares about me. When you’re a teen it seems like your parents are the devil because they want to monitor you. Want you to follow their rules. Their plans. When you become an adult all of that shifts. Your mindset shifts. I’d always say I’m never going to be like my mother, but as I’ve aged I’ve also discovered that I’m a lot more like her than I thought I would be and that’s not such a bad thing. “Will do, Mom,” I assure her. “Promise.”
I hang up the phone and go to set it down in the middle consul. It’s not until that moment that I notice a little piece of paper sticking up in the first cup holder. The number in black ink imbeds itself into my memory as well as the name written below it. Ray.
I smile to myself. A light bulb shines brightly bringing light into the darkened corners of my brain. So that’s what he meant when he said maybe we’d cross paths again someday. I’m not going to lie, when I watched him exit my car and walk back to his truck a deep plunging sadness stabbed at my core.
I didn’t want him to leave.
However…
Parting leads to sorrow.
But reunions are sweet, beautiful, and triumphant.
As I place the number back in the middle consul, I realize I have something to look forward to.
~ ~ ~
Cars begin to dissipate. The crowded lanes of traffic have become sparser. I drive on with a new frame of mind thanks to the day I’ve had.
There are a lot of things a person can find on the open road.
They can find peace.
They can find themselves.
Maybe even a little affection and good spirits along the way.
Somehow the narrow stretch of highway can even make you forget your past. The yellow lines blur together and snatch the sullied memories from the deepest, darkest corners of your cranium. Somehow it helps you realize that even the longest road is always the road that’s best to be taken.
It is a road of happiness.
Of healing.
Of hope and security and calm.
All of these new thoughts and ideas buzz inside of me, a hive full of positivity and forgetting the past to move on to a bright future.
The past will always be the past after all. Like I said before, you can’t go back, erase it and write in changes. Even though I bet a lot of people would like to.
And the future…
> Well…
That’s a completely different story.
Author Bio: Lauren Hammond is an Amazon best-selling author and Literary Agent. In her spare time, she reads, writes, and can be found in her local bookstore browsing the YA section.
Thanks a million times over to my devoted fans and followers who have been patiently waiting for me to snap out of my funk. I can’t even being to tell you how much I appreciate your loyalty and support. I would be nothing without you.
References – Someone Like You by: Adele, You Oughta Know by: Alanis Morrisette, What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger by: Kelly Clarkson, Never Coming Home by: Crossfade, Free Bird by: Lynard Skynard and Lindsey Stirling.
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