Page 26 of Unbound
For the last year I’ve been drunk-wasted nearly every day in an attempt to forget this fucking farm-filled shithole people call home. I hate it here. I’ve always hated it here, but for the longest time, I had every intention of never leaving. For her.
Sophie wanted to stay here, get married and raise a family like almost everyone does here.
I wanted that.
And then she destroyed it.
She fucking ripped those wants away with a night.
“I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone else.”
That was her excuse.
Her.
She’s on my mind whether I want her to be or not. I wonder if she thinks of me like I do of her, if we’re both living and breathing the same memories.
I cut the engine to my bike in front of my childhood home and close my eyes, loving the warmth on my face as the sun beats down on me. Part of me doesn’t want to go inside because it’s clear there’re people here, maybe some I don’t know. My presence is more than likely not wanted. I didn’t even tell anyone I was coming.
I’m still pissed about them basically telling me to leave, but somewhere on the ride down here, I began to realize there was some truth to everything they said to me. Having my boys turn their back on me was just a reminder of what I was doing to everyone around me. At some point I’d have no one left.
Bolts of nervous energy streak through my veins as I stare at the house, then back at my hands. I remove my gloves and place them inside my helmet.
Sighing, I swing my leg off the bike and stare at the house again and the cars in the driveway. My mom’s car is here, Raven’s parked behind hers, Red’s Nova is behind that. And there are two more cars I don’t recognize.
Laughter erupts from the backyard and I notice it’s probably kids. It’s a Sunday night. I imagine it’s some kind of get together for the wedding. Though I have no idea when the actual wedding is.
Part of me doesn’t want to go inside. Okay, most of me doesn’t want to walk through that door because I don’t know what I’m going to be met with. I know Mom’s not happy with me, and Raven, she barely talks to me anymore either, but it’s not like I’ve been making an effort either.
With my helmet in hand, I remove my jacket and make my way up the driveway to the garage. It’s open and I don’t know why, I’d rather walk in through the garage than the front door. So I do. I enter through the garage door and into the long hallway that leads to the kitchen, my heart in my throat.
Setting my jacket down on the bench near the door, I place my helmet on top of it and then turn around to see Mom staring at me.
“Where’d you get that bike?” she asks. No hello. Just that.
I shrug, my hands buried in my pockets. “I bought it.”
She’s standing near the kitchen island cutting what looks to be carrots up, but she drops the knife and reaches for a towel, her eyes darting from mine and then to the backyard behind me. “Did you sell your truck?”
I don’t reply and I don’t turn around because I’m not ready to see what’s waiting in the backyard.
Mom steps out from behind the island and raises her arms as if she’s going to hug me, but her eyes never move from the backyard. “I’m glad you came,” she notes, drawing me into a hug.
For a moment I don’t hug her back, and then I do because I can’t not hug her. Removing my hands from my pockets, I wrap them around her waist and squeeze.
“Jesus, Rawley, you’re skin and bones.”
I chuckle and pull away. “I’m fine.”
She draws in a heavy but shaky breath, and I can tell she’s nervous about something that’s in the backyard.
I don’t want to turn around because there’s something stirring inside my chest. She’s here. I can feel it. I can’t focus on anything. Nothing. It’s all gone, every thought sways to her and I turn around to face the backyard. The second I see her standing there it takes every ounce of control I have not to run to her. Fear, anger, regret, it surfaces like coming up for air.
My girl, my tormented decisions lie within her, standing relaxed in jean shorts and white shirt. Soft blonde curls drape her shoulders, cheeks pink.
A lump lodges in my throat. I shake my head to clear my thoughts but I can’t. I can’t think, knowing she’s right outside.
As I step onto the back deck, my vision becomes clearer and I see exactly what my mother was nervous about.
