Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Henley
New Beginnings
Amanda sat cross-legged on my couch with a glass of red wine in her hand. “This is the cutest dog I’ve ever seen,” she said while patting Hulk’s head with her free hand. “How old is he?”
She was referring to the adorable puppy I’d adopted last week.
I hadn’t gone out to find a dog, but next to Crafts and More was a pet store who had partnered for the day with a local animal rescue.
A large banner with Adopt an Angel Today had caught my eye.
Normally, I wouldn’t stop but something inside me said "go in, look. It won’t hurt.
” Two puppies tugged at a rope as they played inside a playpen.
Even though they were cute, both were breeds that tend to grow larger.
As I turned to leave, another little dog popped up and barked at me.
Its long coat was a mix of grey and blond with flecks of green in its eyes that found their way right into my heart.
Its tail immediately started to wag. The woman from the rescue said he’d been brought in a few days ago by a woman whose husband had given her an ultimatum: him or the dog.
I despised her husband immediately. Within seconds, every foul word my ex had spat at me filled my head, dragging me back into that despair.
“You don’t have time for a dog, Henley,” my ex argued while inspecting our home for all the things I failed to do—of all the ways I was lacking.
“You don’t even cook. You barely clean.” He spun in a circle.
“What did you do all day? Sit on your ass at that computer?” When I tried to explain the new story I’d been outlining for days, he ignored me while sifting through the mail.
“No one is going to read your stupid book. I thought you wanted to exercise, but you haven’t even used the gym membership I got you.
Guess that was another waste of money. You wanted it so badly, but then you whine that you don’t have the time. ”
I should have gotten out then, but I hadn’t.
Didn’t. And then two years with him had turned to five.
Each day I told myself today will be better, he’d be nicer, and some days he would be, but that was just the lie that kept me hoping.
Every praise he callously wrapped in insults.
Every sneer he tossed at the things that made me happy.
It all twisted inside my soul, turning me into someone I hated.
Somehow, he’d convinced me it was all me and not him, whittling away at my self-esteem until I no longer recognized the woman staring back at me in the mirror.
I’d convinced myself that if I’d only try harder…
If I only gave him more, things would be better.
“That’s what you do for the one you love” I’d told myself countless times when the tears became too much.
Bill was perfect, so the problem must have been me.
After all, I wasn’t going to fail at my relationship the way my parents failed at their marriage.
At first, I had hoped that one day Bill would put a ring on my finger and make me his.
Sadly, it had taken me twenty-six years to realize the bruises that had marred my mother’s body weren’t the only form of abuse.
The puppy had practically leapt out of the pen when I reached in to pick him up, as if I was the answer to freeing him from this lonely existence. Maybe he was the answer to mine—another step at putting my wants and needs first.
“He’s a little over four months and the sweetest thing,” I told Amanda. “The rescue named him Hulk.” I shrugged. “He seems to like it.”
My best friend laughed at the name. “Look at these stocky little legs. Hulk fits him.” She set her wine glass down to lavish my squiggly new bestie with all her attention. “I’m glad you finally let another man into your life. This little guy, I approve.”
Amanda sighed as she scratched Hulk’s ears.
“Gotta say girl, I was a little worried a few weeks ago when you told me Bill called to say he needed you back.” She bit at the side of her lip—her signature move when she was contemplating what to say next.
“You’ve barely dated in the last eight months.
Not that I’m counting, but you’ve got a new place. New life.”
I took a big sip of wine. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”
She stared me down. “Who said anything about a relationship. I’m just suggesting you get out there and get a little. Have fun. Honestly? I worry maybe there’s a part of you that might still want him back.” She shrugged.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. While a small, stupid part of me will always have feelings for Bill, I’m not that same na?ve, compliant girl anymore.
There’s no way I’m ever going back to him.
” I closed my eyes and chuckled briefly.
“I still can’t believe he’d use the line”—I made air quotes—“miss you terribly and I need you back.””
Amanda rolled her eyes. “He needed you back. Didn’t say he wanted you back, just needed you. He’s still a douche.”
I chuckled. “I know and that’s why I’ll never go down that road again. You’d think with all that education he’d be smart enough to move on.” I raised my wine glass and gulped it down.
Bill hadn’t come to some realization that he’d been an ass the last two years of our relationship and couldn’t live without me.
No, the narcissist couldn’t stand that I left him.
He hadn’t changed. He was still the same self-centered asshole, blaming me for not being willing to try again.
Here he thought I’d cave and come crawling back to him.
The joke was on him. Every day I got a little more of my pre-Bill self-assurance back, reminding myself I was worthy of happiness.
But Bill would never be happy because he’ll never understand the meaning of sacrifice or love.
He’ll always be a shell of man trying to fill the expectations of his father.
Amanda shook her head. “I’m sorry, sweets,” she replied in her soft, southern drawl. “He never appreciated you, girl. You deserve someone who’d raise the sun and moon for you.”
If only men like that existed. Bill never understood what it was to be a partner to me.
All he was concerned with was how he looked to everyone he worked with and knew.
“Every partner has a good woman standing behind him,” he stated often.
“One that knows her place and understands and respects the sacrifices it takes to be a leader at the firm.” At first, I understood the pressure of his legal career but after a while, his constant reminders felt like reprimands. Accusations of how I was failing him.
Bill and I had met at the end of my senior year in college.
He had just finished law school and was clerking for Bridges and Banks.
I was working the morning rush hours before my classes at Coffee Cakes, a little coffee shop and bakery located a few doors down from their office.
He stopped in every morning at six thirty on the dot.
Always the same order: large black coffee and a cinnamon roll with a heavy dose of him flirting.
I became completely entranced by his attention, feeling butterflies every morning just anticipating his arrival.
After a few late-night dates and lots of incredible sex, we fell madly in love. A year later, we moved in together.
I’d had my sights set on being a creative writer, taking small jobs writing puff pieces for two different magazines.
But fiction was where my imagination took flight.
Growing up, every time my parents would fight, I’d lock myself away in my closet, break out my diary, and write myself into a land far away where the screams from my parents could be drowned out by new adventures.
Bill was just starting his career, often explaining how cunning he had to be to gain favor with judges if he ever hoped to represent clients of his own.
After he’d passed the bar, his lofty ambitions turned into his personal demise as a decent human being, spending unending hours creating excuses and justifying horrendous acts of violence as a defense attorney.
“I need your support here, Henley. Not you chasing that pipedream of writing
Some days it was difficult to tell him and his criminal clients apart.
All the red flags were there, I was just too much in love to see them.
So, like the loving girlfriend I was, I gave up my dreams to make his come true.
Got a boring job in Human Resources at a local bank.
Dwindled my “wild, party friends” down to a number I can count on one hand—well, down to the person sitting on my couch drinking wine with me at five o’clock on a Friday.
Isn’t that what you do for someone you love? Give everything of yourself without asking for anything in return?
I tussled the top of Hulk’s head as he plopped down beside me. “He was such an asshole. Wasn’t he, little guy?” My pup yipped in response.
Amanda downed the last of her wine. “You were too good for him.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, remembering the argument that was the final straw.
“Bill told me writing was a waste of time and it would never help pay the bills. He actually had me convinced that I was crazy for thinking I had what it takes. How everything I loved was keeping me from truly being successful. God, I really hate him some days.”
“You gave up everything, sweets. Now it’s time for you to think about yourself.” She glanced over at me. “Whenever something interesting happens, what do you always say?”
We both responded simultaneously. “That would make a good book.”
“Exactly!” Amanda smiled. “Speaking of which.” She reached into the bag she’d placed beside her when she sat down. “It’s time to make that dream come true.” She handed me a new, spiral-bound journal. It was my favorite color too: purple.
"What’s this for?”
“Maybe someday you’ll take those ideas and write a book.”
I held the journal in my hand, randomly flipping through the blank, lined pages. “I don’t know what I’d write in this.”
“Anything.” Amanda tisked as she pulled out a new pack of fine-tipped colored markers.
“Just write your thoughts, Henley. Jot down things that happen in your day. You love to draw too. Draw pictures. Pretend the journal is me when I’m not here.
Tell it anything you’d tell me. Better yet…
” She took the journal from me, uncapped a black marker, and scribbled DIRTY THOUGHTS across the empty label on the front.
“Write me a dirty book. I’ll use it as inspiration to spark my withering love life. ” She laughed.
She set the journal next to me. Hulk took this as a challenge and climbed off my lap, sniffed the cover before pawing it, and then plopped right on top of it. Guess he wanted all the attention too.
I was about to lift him off when I heard car doors slam outside. Was someone here? Thoughts of Bill pounding on my door again had me springing from my seat. Amanda was the only person who came to visit me, and today she’d followed me home from work to finally meet Hulk.
I lived in a quiet neighborhood consisting of eclectic homes all crafted in the sixties and seventies.
Some with colored shutters, others with stone and brick veneer.
No two homes looked alike. There weren’t many homes in my price range when I left Bill, let alone ones with character.
All the new housing developments in White River, Idaho looked the same.
Homes situated on tiny lots where if I stuck my arm out the window and my neighbor did the same we could hold hands.
There were barely any back yards and all of the houses had the same basic shape just painted a little different with ridiculous prices and zero personality.
But this older neighborhood of slightly worn-down homes was affordable.
Honestly, I immensely enjoyed the quiet that came with living in a well-established neighborhood where most of my neighbors had lived all their lives.
The kind of community where families got together.
When I first looked at the property, my realtor told me about the annual summer block party.
In a time where everyone is so disconnected from each other, it pretty much sold me on the location.
Amanda stood next to me as we spied out of my front window. “Looks like a realtor is showing the Beeman’s house to someone,” she said. “That place is a hot mess. I can’t believe anyone would be interested in it.”
So was mine, but renovations were outside of my budget.
“It’s not that bad. It just needs a little love and attention.
” Like me and my dated kitchen. “If someone restored it, it would be worth a mint.” The Beeman’s home might be weathered and in need of serious updates, but it was the largest on the block with a huge yard beyond the wooden fence that divided us.
All it needed was the right owner to restore it to its original beauty.
“No.” Amanda cleared her throat and nodded at the guy standing in the driveway next door. “He most certainly isn’t that bad. I’d be happy to give him a little love and attention.”
“You’re married,” I reminded her, gazing at one seriously hot guy.
“So?”
We both groaned when he leaned back inside his vehicle. “Is that a measuring tape?”
Amanda laughed. “Chapter One is practically writing itself.”
I dropped my side of the curtain. Gawking wasn’t healthy. “There’s a blank journal over there. Have at it.”
She leaned closer to the window, pressing her face to the glass. “Writing is your gig. I’d rather edit it and put in lots of gratuitous sex.” She turned and smiled deviously. “You know. Some rope play, maybe. Zip ties. Fun time with measuring tapes.”
Lots of sex. Yeah, right. In my dreams. That journal was going to be blank for a long time. Maybe Bill was right. My thoughts and dreams were taking me nowhere fast. Desires only led to one thing: disappointment.