Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
H eart still thumping, I drove to my refuge—the Indian Creek Trailhead, a lush greenbelt that ran across my town. I pulled on hiking boots and a ballcap from the bag stashed in my car and grabbed my binoculars and journal for birding.
When gravel crunched under my shoes on the path, my chest finally seemed to open all the way and I could take in a full breath. Big oaks stretched above me with crimson and gold leaves. A fluffy white Samoyed grinned at me as he trotted by with his human.
“Lady bug,” a toddler shouted at her mother.
My stomach tightened. Twenty-eight years old and starting over…
I walked faster, part of me automatically scanning the trees for birds but mostly staring down, watching the terrain as my feet ate up miles. My walks were always solitary. Gerry hadn’t hiked with me since we’d first started dating.
My youngest sister’s ring tone went off on my phone—American Robin bird call. I stopped, sucking in air and wiping the sweat off my forehead.
“Tilly,” I said.
“Kelsey? Are you jogging or something?”
“Speed walking. How are you?”
She blew out—cigarette smoke, probably. Damn . It seemed like smoking was going to stick. “In midterm hell. Housemate hell. And I’m probably fired from my job.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“What are you doing for Christmas?”
I made it to the park bench that overlooked the river—miraculously empty—and slumped onto it. Then forced myself to sit up straight. “Not sure.”
“Well, can I sleep on your couch or whatever?”
“Yeah, always.” I ground dirt under the toe of my sneaker. “But things are…changing for me. Would you keep it private for now?”
“What’s going on with you?”
I stared up at where an Osprey nest had been last year. “I’m…leaving Gerry.”
“Shit—really?”
“He stole money from me.” The admission came out of me, and it was like a bell tolling through my head. I’d said it. There was no taking it back now. Through all my years with Gerry, I’d never admitted my doubts about his character. He hadn’t been physically abusive—it wasn’t easy to explain. “On top of everything else…”
“What, you mean the fact that he’s a shady asshole? Jesus, it’s about freaking time.”
Tilly had missed the parts of Gerry that I’d loved—or maybe depended on? He’d paid attention. Before the porn had taken over, our kinky sex had been a dirty secret between us that seemed to keep us close. You were addicted to it. I’d kept hoping he’d grow past the need to control the petty and small matters of our everyday lives.
“He won’t leave the townhome. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”
Actually, I had a bad feeling that I did. He wouldn’t budge until I forced him to—and it would cost us both more than we could pay.
“Damn. I’m sorry, Sis. Can’t you change the locks on him and throw his shit out a window?”
“No. I can’t force him to leave—and I can’t stand to be under the same roof as him.”
“Why’d he steal money?”
I blew out a breath. “He spends too much.” Called it networking, but it boiled down to chasing around the very wealthy and trying to be on the inside. “Started gambling, too.”
“Did you, like, freeze your accounts or whatever?”
“Yeah.” I’d had to take Friday afternoon off work to frantically call my credit card companies and go into my bank. I opened a private mailbox and changed all my account numbers. I emailed a lawyer.
“So now you’re broke and basically homeless? Shit, we’re in the same boat.”
“Pretty much. Wait, you’re not homeless, are you?”
More smoke blowing. “I’m behind on rent. They forced me into the basement.”
“Is it a finished basement?”
“Not really. But it’s dry. Don’t worry about it—so, no, not really homeless.”
I put a hand over my eyes. “I’m going to try and figure out Christmas. And Thanksgiving at Audrey’s.”
Audrey was our oldest sister, an engineer living in Portland with her wife. If the weather was good, they hosted big Thanksgiving gatherings in the yard of their tiny bungalow.
Tilly grumbled something about tofu that I didn’t catch. “Yeah, keep me posted. Not sure I’m in the mood for an Audrey lecture…but it’s probably better than staying here. Talk soon.”
Stomach growling, I hiked back to my car and drove to the library. Why hadn’t I put the bags I’d packed in my car? Because you’re a coward. Gerry had been staring at me, and I’d fled.
Surrounded by a park, the library was a beautiful old brick building with a view of the Columbia River. I filled up my empty bottle and gulped down water, sloshing some onto my shirt.
“Kelsey? Oh, it is you.” Deedee Fisher was one of the librarians—the one who knew my secret book hobby.
I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “Hi. Sorry, I’m a sweaty mess.”
Deedee squinted at me. “Working out?” she asked dubiously.
“Hiking.” I pulled a leaf off my arm and glanced around for a place to toss it.
“Ah—great weather for it. Anyway, take a look in the section. You won’t be sorry.” Deedee adjusted her purple-framed glasses and blew out a low whistle. “Bunch of new ones.”
I forced my mouth into a smile for her. “On it.”
She grinned at me, then cocked her head, her smile fading. “Are you alright, dear?”
My eyes burned— no, not now . I gulped, shaking my head a little. “Just a breakup. I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes opened wider. “Oh—honey, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.”
She patted my arm, looking me over. “Go sit down. I’m going to bring over some cookies that I made last night. I always put them in the staff room, so I’m not the only one gobbling them down.”
“That would be amazing.”
Head spinning, I had to go to a picnic table outside and eat my cookies right away. I picked the crumbs out of the plastic bag and mentally kicked myself for not eating anything before stranding myself outside my home. Going back was my only option—Gerry would be waiting, ready to concentrate on wrapping me back around his finger…
My phone vibrated in my pocket and made the Budgie bird call—Maria’s ring tone.
“Kelsey,” she sang out cheerfully. “What are we doing today? I woke up recently and can’t let Saturday pass me by without day drinking.”
Maria Adamos was my best friend—which would be news to her since she probably considered me little closer than an acquaintance.
About two years ago, we’d been introduced at a networking event for women professionals. A core group of us still met for drinks on Thursdays. People might consider Maria the party girl and me the designated driver. I’d always thought she had a deep well of compassion, along with her bright smile.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, can I come over? I, um, need a break from running around.”
It sounded so awkward in my meek voice. I’d never been to where she lived. Was it too much? Nice, push her away with your weirdness.
“Oh—yeah,” Maria said. “You don’t care about messes or anything, do you? I mean, I’d get up and try to make this place presentable, but I wouldn’t really get anywhere…”
“I really don’t. Thanks. Text me your address?”
“Sure…my gut is telling me something is happening with you. You’re going to talk to me when you get here, right?”
“I can talk,” I said, trying to sound witty—and not pulling it off.