Not Your Little Girl Anymore

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Summer

I think about my life and what led me to where I am today a lot. I’ve always wanted to matter. To make my mom and dad proud of me. And they have been. But I still feel hollow inside. Like I’m meant to do something bigger, greater. I never thought about death and all the in-betweens of it until now. Until Dad called me.

“Your mother,” he began with a shaky voice. “She was found dead.”

The way he stuttered, struggling to inform his only daughter that her mother is no longer alive—it rips something inside of me apart. The words replay over and over again, like a broken record. I try to understand. Why Mom? She was a good person, a great mother. She didn’t deserve to die.

There is one thing that sits in the back of my head, one I can’t shake: how did it happen?

When I pull into the parking lot of one of my favorite restaurants—at least it was growing up—my chest falls heavy. Dread washes over me. I haven’t been here in a long time, and knowing my father is inside waiting for me only makes my stomach twist.

It’s been two years since I saw my dad. Since attending college in New York, we’ve only had the privilege of talking over the phone between Dad’s career and my studies. I was upset at first, but as time went on, I wasn’t all that bothered. My studies became a priority. Until I became more uninterested than I was.

I never wanted to be a nurse. It was Dad’s idea, and at the time, the only thing I longed for was to see the look on his face. It made everything worth it. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t hate it. I love the thrill and adrenaline of helping people. That feeling is so good, and it’s an excellent career choice.

I think about how often Dad tells me he’s proud of me. What would he think of me once he finds out I’m not returning to college? Would he hate me?

An unsettling feeling works its way through me at the thought but I take a deep breath and make my way across the parking lot.

When I step inside the restaurant, I find my father almost immediately. He’s sitting at the same table I loved growing up—the dark blue booth in the corner.

Dad’s eyes light up when he sees me. I swallow thickly and walk over to him as he stands and wraps his arms around me. His hug is tight and so familiar. I soak it up for as long as possible, my heart tugging in my chest.

“I missed you,” he says before letting go.

“I missed you too, Dad.” I give him a wry smile, but it falls quickly. I haven’t had a real smile since that phone call.

The waitress comes over and places a glass of water on the table. I sit across from my father, forced to squirm for a minute to get comfortable. It’s hard when my body feels like it’s on fire from the emotions I’ve been suffering from lately.

“How’s work been?” I ask, hoping to ease the hole in my chest and hoping he will give me more details about Mom’s case.

His lidded eyes wander around the restaurant. I can tell he hasn’t slept much since the news about Mom. The bags under his eyes are dark. The wrinkles in his forehead have increased since the last time I saw him.

“Work is work. How’s college?”

My stomach drops, making me feel a bit queasy. There’s no reason I should feel this way toward him. He’s my father—the man who nurtured me. But I know he won’t accept my dropout, and with Mom’s passing, it’s not the time or place to discuss that with him.

“It’s good,” I lie, keeping my eyes on my glass of water.

I’ve never lied to my father. Not precisely, anyway. I’ve split the truth a few times, but only to make him happier. Truthfully, I’m a terrible liar, and if I look at him, he’ll know I’m lying, so I avoid it altogether.

At least until the subject changes.

When the waitress comes back, she has two plates, one in each hand. She places one in front of me and the other in front of my father.

My mouth forms a small smile as I stare down at a plate of chicken tenders with cheese melted on top and a side of curly fries. I haven’t eaten this in years. “You remembered.”

“Your favorite meal since you were three. How could I forget?”

Suddenly, my heart warms a little—not enough to help soothe the pain in my chest, but a little. Silence fills the space between us as Dad digs into his meal. I take a small bite and wash it down with a sip of water, wishing this lunch could be over already.

“Hey, Dad.” He glances up at me, still chewing. “Did you call Mary and June? You know... about Mom.”

He stops in mid-chew, his jaw ticking before he swallows and grabs a napkin to clean around his mouth. “I have not.”

My lips press together, the ache in my chest digs a deeper hole. “Are you going to call them?”

His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. “I’m sure they saw it on the news. Finish eating.”

The downturn of his expression is visible, and I look away, no longer hungry. I lick my parched lips and swallow the lump, clawing its way up the center of my throat. Dad can’t possibly think avoiding all topics about Mom is a good idea, can he?

“Dad.” I straighten my spine. My chest grows heavier, but I know if I don’t try to figure out some answers, I will never heal. “Why was Mom in that dark alley? How could she have possibly...”

He cuts me off. “Not now, Summer.”

“It’s just...”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

He doesn’t break eye contact with me, and I have a strange feeling that he won’t want to discuss this later. Neither of us wants to talk about it, but we have to.

“Dad, please,” I beg. “I need to know.”

His lips purse, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. “I said, not now!”

I slam my fist onto the table. “Damn it, Dad!”

All eyes fall on us. Dad’s posture tightens, but the tension he is holding releases as he exhales slowly and rubs the salt and pepper stubble on his face. He gives the people around us a tight smile and then looks at me, leaning over the table.

“Summer, I know you have questions, as do I, but now is not the time to discuss your mother.”

“It’s never going to be a good time,” I point out in a near whisper.

He sighs, ignoring me completely, and I shake my head in disbelief.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry.” I hurry out of the booth, blinking back the tears threatening to leave my eyelids. “I’ll see you at home.”

***

Nothing has changed.

Two years have gone by, and everything about the house is the same. The swing on the porch is where it was before I left. The flowers Mom and I planted when I was eight are somehow still alive and blooming.

I chew on my bottom lip and inhale a deep breath before unloading my boxes of clothes.

Dad assumes I’ll only be home for the summer. If he saw that I had all my stuff stored in the trunk of my car, he’d have a fit. Moving as quickly as possible, I grab as many boxes as my little arms can hold and walk up the walkway.

The house’s gray hue possesses a subtle warmth. The royal blue shutters that adorn the windows somehow make the house come alive. It’s beautiful and elegant—everything Mom wanted.

My chest tightens, thinking about how happy she would be to see me and how she’ll never get to see me again.

When I get inside, I half expect to see Mom whipping up her famous spaghetti and meatballs in the kitchen. Dad lounged in his recliner, watching Family Feud—like old times. Except Mom isn’t in the kitchen, and Dad isn’t in his recliner. I almost feel a sense of comfort, but it is washed away immediately.

Taking a few steps inside my bedroom, I drop the boxes off to the side with a thud. My eyes start wandering around the room. My computer is on my desk, surrounded by the textbooks I piled around it. My light pink silk curtains are still closed and my bed is neatly made.

I kick off my boots and sit in my black computer chair, frowning at the small picture that hangs on my wall. It’s a picture of me, Mom, and Dad at my martial arts competition. I was holding my first medal after winning second place. Under that is another picture from when I earned my black belt.

Sighing, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone to text my best friend, Chloe.

Save me.

The bubbles in the bottom left corner pop up right away, and my phone vibrates in my hand.

I’m not much of a savior, but there is an event downtown at Tale’s Gate Recreation Field. I’ll meet you there. It’ll be fun!

I stare at her message for a beat, debating whether to tell her I will go next time. But I also consider whether I should go. It will help me get my mind off everything that has happened the past couple of days, and I need that.

I run my fingers across my screen, letting her know I’ll meet her there, and slide my phone back into my pocket.

This will be good for me.

Slipping on my combat boots, I jog down the stairs. Just as I open the front door, Dad comes inside.

His eyebrows draw together. “Where are you going?” he asks.

I shuffle by him. “Out with Chloe. Don’t wait up.”

***

When I park my car, I get out and rush over to Chloe. She doesn’t notice me at first because her eyes are glued to her phone while her fingers speed across the screen.

“I’m surprised your eyes haven’t fallen out of your head by now.”

Her head swings up, and she smiles, wrapping her arms around me. “Missed you, bitch. How are you holding up?”

I shrug, biting the inside of my cheek. “As good as anyone would be.”

“Come on.” She tugs my arm toward the entrance.

A tall woman with straight dark hair greets us. Chloe pulls out her ID, and I follow suit. To be honest, I have no idea what to expect coming here. Growing up, the town didn’t have many events. At least not that I’m aware of. The female snaps two bracelets onto our wrists; one grants us access and the other verifies we’re above the legal drinking age.

Adrenaline courses through me as I take in the crowd of people walking around the open field. But then, a familiar feeling slithers down my spine—I am out of my comfort zone, and left feeling overwhelmed.

Chloe senses the change and nudges me in the arm. “Relax. It’ll be fun. A change, if you will.”

I laugh, following her lead.

Growing up, we were always the opposite. She was the spontaneous troublemaker, and I was always the good girl. But somehow, we balanced each other out and soon became inseparable.

My eyes focus on the stage in the far back against the beautiful, towering trees. “What exactly is this?”

“A concert, duh.”

My eyes narrow. “Since when did they start holding concerts in town?”

Chloe shrugs, stopping in front of the concession stand. “Shortly after, you left for college and dropped off the face of the Earth.”

I gasp. “I did not drop off the face of the Earth.”

“You sure did.” She smiles at me, turning back toward the employee at the stand. Her name tag says Nora.

“What can I get you?” Nora asks Chloe.

“Long Island Iced Tea, thank you.”

Nora nods and turns around to the small shelf that holds a variety of liquor. To the right side is a medium-sized fridge that has cans of soda.

While waiting for Nora to make Chloe’s drink, I look off to the side and read the canvas in front of the large field.

Devil’s Riot.

I’ve never heard of them before.

Chloe takes her drink from the employee’s hand and looks at me. “Want something?”

“Orange soda, please.”

“Soda. Are you serious, Summer?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t drink, Chlo.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. You know, you should live a little. You deserve it. Especially after your mom.”

My heart sinks. “Please don’t bring Mom up right now.”

Chloe frowns. “I’m sorry.”

Nora places a can of soda. I take it as Chloe thanks her and pays for our drinks.

When we walk away I sigh. “Thank you, Chloe.”

“No probs. You owe me.”

I smile, but my attention draws to the crowd of people that walk past us. I pop open the can of soda and take a large gulp. We follow along the short dirt path, stopping off to the side of the field. My stomach curls at the sight of the large group of people, but thankfully Chloe stops off to the side and away from the crowd.

There’s a part of me that feels out of place. It’s not that I don’t belong here. But going by how everyone dresses, they’ve known this band for some time now. Everyone is wearing the band’s merch.

I take another sip of my soda, savoring the taste. “How long has this band been a thing?”

“A thing? Oh, I don’t know for sure. Rumor has it the lead singer fought tooth and nail for the town to approve them to play here,” Chloe explains.

I swallow, watching the crowd gather closer, and a few security guards walk on stage. “They seem very popular.”

There are a couple of enthusiastic fan girls off to the side who let out piercing screams. I jump from the unexpected sound, raising my hand to my ear and massaging it from the overwhelming noise. Chloe chuckles, knowing that I am not used to crowds like this.

She nudges my arm and points to the stage with her cup in her hand. My eyes follow the motion. “That’s the drummer, Tyler,” she states.

He’s lean, decked out in a torn muscle shirt. His messy hair gives away the fact that this is a punk-rock band. He hops onto the stool behind the drum set in the far back and taps his foot on the foot pedal. Once, twice, and a third time.

He leans to the side where a microphone sits. “How’s everyone doing this evening?”

Everyone screams in response, and he chuckles, making my insides squirm. I can’t help but silently laugh. It’s not because it’s funny, but it’s actually nice to be in this crowd and see how excited everyone is.

Two more band members walk onto the stage. One is a guy dressed more casually than the drummer, despite his torn jeans. The other is a petite female with long brown hair braided to the side.

“That’s Samantha and James,” Chloe says.

“So, do you know them?”

She shakes her head. “Just their names. I’ve watched them a few times now. They’re good.”

They’re all young, around my age. I turned twenty four last October. I wonder how I haven’t heard of them before. That’s the downfall of living in New York for the past few years.

The crowd screams as soon as another guy walks onto the stage. He stops in the middle of the stage, where a single microphone sits. His jeans aren’t torn. He has a solid white short-sleeve shirt underneath a sleeveless black leather jacket. His hair is short, with faded edges, and slightly longer on top. From where Chloe and I stand, I can tell he keeps a clean face. His short beard is perfectly lined.

“Who’s that?” I ask Chloe.

“That’s Alec, the lead singer. Pretty sure the one who started the band.”

I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek, watching as he brings his mouth close to the microphone and smiles.

“Who’s ready to have some fun?”

Everyone starts to cheer.

James picks up a black guitar and passes it to Alec. Alec takes it, swings the strap over his shoulder, and plucks some strings.

“Come on, you can do better than that!” he shouts into the microphone, and everyone screams louder.

His infectious laughter reverberates through the speakers. His fingers glide across the strings as he strums his guitar with graceful precision. The sound is captivating. As Alec opens his mouth, his rich, velvety voice resonates, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. I’m blown away by how beautiful his voice is.

“They’re outstanding,” I scream to Chloe over the loud music.

She nods, swaying along with the song. “I knew you’d like it!”

I watch as they continue with the song. My eyes drift toward Alec’s neck and how his veins pop out as he sings higher. Something fuzzy swirls in my stomach. His head drifts this way, eyes falling on me and my heart whooshes from my chest. There is no way he’s focusing on me. Out of everyone here? Me? I glance away. My eyes meet Chloe’s briefly. Her look matches mine. When I tilt my head back up, he smiles.

“Is he?” I swallow, unable to finish my question.

“Looking directly at you? I’m pretty sure.”

I look around to see if anyone else notices, but nobody seems to. Everyone else is dancing and singing along with the beat of the song. My heartbeat picks up, pounding against my chest. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as his voice comes through the speakers and he watches me carefully. It’s like he’s singing to me.

Alec takes his eyes off me for a split second, and I blow out air. However, it doesn’t take long for his eyes to fall back on me. My hands become clammy, and my throat becomes increasingly dry. I guzzle down more of my orange soda, hoping it eases the scratchy feeling in the center of my throat. It doesn’t. I’m left feeling overwhelmed and uncomfortable.I need to get out of here. I feel like I’m suffocating.

Between Mom, and college and now coming out of my comfort zone… this is all too much for me right now.

I clear my throat. “Chlo, I need to go.”

She looks at me, stopping in the middle of her dance. Her eyebrows pull tight. “What? Why? Come on, it’s nothing.”

My chest heaves, anxiety builds up in the center of my chest. A feeling I can’t explain, but it drags me down. anyhow. “Chloe, please. I need to get out of here.”

She studies me for a moment. “It’s not about the band. Is it?”

My eyes fill up with tears, but I blink them back to avoid them slipping down my face. “No.”