Burned from Both Ends

Chapter 1

Alyssa

Not the worst fresh start in the world. I drove with the windows down to let in the cold early-spring air, speakers blaring Taylor Swift’s new album, and I sang out loud in the way I was never supposed to as the roads led into the mountains that were coming to life in blossoms of color.

I couldn’t be here forever. I knew that.

But I knew I needed this—whatever this was—for the time being.

Everything had fallen apart around me, and when Daniela had told me to drop it all and come stay with her, I’d gone without overthinking it.

For the first time in my life. Wound up with my things in the back of my old Toyota Camry, and I drove until Boston was far in the rear-view mirror, and things would be different now. They had to be.

The song changed, I turned the wheel to take a corner, and my life flashed before my eyes as I almost turned straight into a collision.

I sucked in a sharp breath as I slammed on the brakes and veered away from the looming shape—a fallen tree blocking the road—and I braced as I hit rough gravel, back wheels skidding on slick pavement and sending me almost in a tailspin.

The car came to a stop sideways in the road, just short of the tree trunk—it looked like it had just fallen recently, branches sagging, the wood creaking, and the road guardrails still held up under the weight, groaning in protest. The wind rustled in the branches, close enough outside my window I could have reached out and touched it, and I clutched the wheel white-knuckled, breathing hard, my pulse pounding in my ears, a cold sensation washing behind my eyes.

Taylor Swift kept singing. She had no sense of timing.

I laughed once, shaky and delirious, and managed to sink back into the seat. Okay. I didn’t die. It was a close one, but I didn’t die this time. Score for me. I was doing great.

“You doing all right?” a voice said from the window right next to me, and I screamed and swung on pure adrenaline reaction, slapping a woman in the face.

My stomach dropped when I realized what had just happened—she was dressed up in a heavy flannel with her hair tied back and gloves on, probably a worker here about the tree, and I’d fully just backhanded her in the face.

She held a hand over her cheek, wincing.

“Oh, Jesus,” I said, my voice shaking badly. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I had no idea there was someone there—are you okay?”

“Guess you can’t be doing too badly, if you’ve got that much energy in you,” she said, massaging her cheek before she pulled her hand away. My stomach turned at the sight of a small cut there along her cheekbone—Jesus, I was wearing a ring on that hand.

“Oh, god, you’re bleeding,” I said. “I am so sorry.”

“No big deal.” She leaned against the car, giving me a dry smile. “You just narrowly managed to slip past me putting up the signage for this… glad you’ve got quick reflexes.”

“I almost died,” I heaved. I didn’t know why I said it. Taylor Swift singing about a dick as big as a tree was not what I needed right now.

“You’d have lived. Your car, not so much.

The tree’s only supported on the guardrail,” she said, pointing to it.

I felt like laughing, delirious on the whole thing, and I wasn’t taking in what she was saying.

“It would have transferred the impact force and moved, crumpled your car, and probably sent the tree on its way down the mountain, hitting someone else’s car another road down. ”

“That’s not better.”

She laughed. “You’ll have to go around until we get this cleared up. But you can take your time. The road’s closed now, so nobody’s coming up behind you. Where you headed?”

I heaved out a shaking breath. “I can’t go around, I’m going here.”

She squinted. “Sorry?”

“I’m going here.”

“I cannot hear you over Taylor.”

“Jesus, I forgot that was even playing.” I turned off the music, and in the silence, I could hear myself thinking again. Slowly, my brain started sputtering back into gear. “I’m going to Paxton Ridge.”

“Seriously? Figures…” She stood up, looking around her, checking her phone, before she slid it into her pocket and turned to me with a shrug. “Well, my car’s on the other side. I could give you a lift?”

I let out a long, slow breath. “I’ve got all my stuff in this car… like, all my stuff. I’ve been moving.”

“Well, better not waste time then. C’mon. I’ll give you a hand.”

I stared at her for a second before I slumped back in my seat, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Are you serious? I just backhanded you across the face so hard you’re bleeding, and now you’re offering to drive me?”

“I’m too kind for my own good, I know. Now, are you coming or not? I’m stronger than I look, but I can’t move this tree.”

I let out a long breath before I turned off the car and opened the door, stepping out.

I didn’t realize how shaky I still was—my legs held up like wet noodles when I stood up, and I stumbled, the woman moving to catch me, her hands on my arms steadying me, and I felt a flush of awareness at the closeness.

It was the wrong thought for the moment, but she smelled so good, like pine and cedar and sweet cinnamon spice, and I felt my chest tighten.

“Doing okay?” she said, her voice slightly softer now. I nodded, taking long, deep breaths to clear my head.

“I’m okay,” I said, standing up, catching myself, and I managed to step back away from her, standing up normally. Not faceplanting directly into the pavement, at least not today. Point for me. “Thanks… I’m so sorry about this.”

She shrugged, hands in her pockets. She was a gorgeous woman, looking rugged in her field jacket and heavy boots, a strong jawline and warm, peachy-hued skin, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, loose strands having broken free from her time out here.

She had strong shoulders and piercing brown eyes that were more of a deep olive shade, a kind of dark hazel that felt like they looked straight through me, and I shuddered under her attention.

“Just glad things didn’t go worse,” she said. “Where exactly are you going, anyway?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house…” I scratched my head.

“She’s letting me stay here a little while.

Things got rough for me back home, so I came out here, and then, whoops, things almost got even rougher,” I said, gesturing to the tree that had nearly performed a swan song for my trusty old Camry.

“And then I slapped you in the face, too. I am really sorry about that.”

“Girls love a sexy scar. Who’s your friend?”

Oh, wow. I knew Daniela had said there was a big gay population in Paxton Ridge—they had a lesbian mayor who’d been making a big deal out of Pride celebrations for decades, and it had apparently turned into a thing—but I hadn’t expected to be greeted at the gates by a woman in flannel hoping to impress girls with a scar.

I mean… I hoped it didn’t scar. Sexy or no, I’d feel bad.

“Daniela Holman,” I said. “She lives in—”

“Oh,” she said, and I didn’t miss the way her face fell. My stomach tightened. “Yeah, I know her. Her house isn’t far.”

“Oh, uh…” I laughed nervously. “Small towns, huh? Everyone really does know each other.”

She gave me a stony smile. “Grab your things, then.”

Right. She wasn’t feeling the joke. I kept my head down, taking my luggage from the back, two big rolling suitcases and a backpack, and I followed the woman around to the edge of the tree, where there was plenty of space to duck under the broken base and head for a forest-green Jeep that was parked at the side with its hazard lights on.

She threw open the back, and she helped me haul in the luggage, squeezing it into where things were already cluttered in her car, and I waited until we were sitting in the front together before I gave into the urge to apologize.

“Sorry for all the trouble,” I said. “Thanks for taking me.”

“No problem,” she said coolly. “So, you have a name, or should I just call you Daniela’s friend?

“Oh, god, I didn’t even think about that.

First I’m slapping you and then I’m being rude.

My name’s Alyssa. Alyssa Taylor. I’m from Boston, but, you know, things happened, I had to get out—I’ve been friends with Daniela online for years, back before she even lived in Paxton Ridge.

” Oh, Jesus, I was digging deeper. I shouldn’t have mentioned Daniela.

Apparently there were issues there—her expression tightened more when I brought her up again, and I tried to smile wider and be cheerful enough to balance it out, but I think I was making it worse.

“Well, I’m just here to try figuring things out.

Sorting out my life. She offered for me to stay here a while and sort things out. Sorry, er… what’s your name?”

“Jade.” She turned her keys in the ignition. “Buckle up.”

“Right. I can do that.” And shut up, was the next, unspoken, request. I sat ramrod straight, buckled my seatbelt, and kept my hands folded in my lap as Jade started the car, and gentle guitar strumming played from the radio—some kind of indie folk pop. She turned it down.

“Should I put on Taylor Swift?”

“No, this is good. I mean, you can listen to whatever you like. I’m the one imposing on you.

I’m not going to start assailing you with trashy pop music,” I laughed.

“I mean, can you imagine? A girl drives around like a maniac, slaps you in the face, takes your car, and starts blasting music you hate and talking about things you don’t want to talk about.

” Jesus, why was I even mentioning that?

Talking about it explicitly was going to make things worse.

Jade didn’t look at me—just turned off the music, hit the eject button, and she took out a CD and opened the center compartment.

She had a whole collection of CDs inside, in neat binder sheets, and she took out another one I recognized.

“Taylor’s not half-bad,” she said. “But I’m more into Evermore.”

“Oh, cool. Yeah, I’m… I’m down. That’s a good one.”

“Something we can agree on, then.” She put the CD in, and it whirred to life. I laughed nervously.

“Well, we can also agree on that it’s bad to drive your car into a tree.”

She turned and looked deadpan at me, and I felt like dying. I needed to shut up. “Two things we agree on,” she said, finally, and I nodded quickly.

“Sorry, I’ll… I’ll be quiet. Your car smells really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She turned back to the road, and I silently kicked myself for the rest of the drive.

Fresh start, new town, new state, and a new me, and I was pissing off the first person I talked to. Maybe I was the problem.

Oh well. I wasn’t staying here. Anyone I pissed off would be in the past eventually.