25. Kaitlyn
TWENTY-FIVE
Kaitlyn
Brock brought me flowers.
Red roses—he drove all the way to Great Falls to buy them, just for me. I know because he announced it, loud enough for my mother to hear, when he handed them to me. It was the same with the corsage he bought me when he took me to his senior prom—something extravagant his mother picked out that didn’t even match my dress. When I told him he could’ve just picked me wildflowers, he laughed at me.
Don’t be stupid, Kaitydid. What would people think of me if you showed up to prom with a bunch of weeds I picked from the side of the road?
Looking back, I see it for what it really was—a giant red flag, waving right in my face.
Resisting the urge to slap him across the face with them, I leave him in the foyer with her while I make my escape to the kitchen under the pretense of putting them in water.
Tossing the bouquet onto the counter, I stand at the kitchen sink and stare out the window. Across the yard and beyond the outbuildings, I can see the one lane dirt road that climbs the side of the mountain up to Northpoint. Letting my gaze drift up the slant of it, I listen to the mingle of my mom’s voice and Brock’s, talking about the wedding plans she and his mother have already made.
We won’t have time for a proper engagement party but I think an announcement at the church picnic on Sunday will do well enough to let people know that...
I haven’t had the heart to tell her that I can’t finish my semester. That I gave up on school entirely because Two-tone broke my laptop and because giving up was easier than the uphill battle she’s been insisting I fight.
I’m sure Brock will be supportive of your finishing school. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t go to college, Kait.
Remembering what she said to me a few days ago when she asked me how school was going, I feel the sting of fresh tears prickle against the back of my eyes and I close them to stop them from welling while I struggle to unclench the grip my stomach has on my lungs.
Breathe, Kaity.
Just breathe.. .
“Kait, we’re going to miss the start of the movie if you don’t hurry up.” Brock’s voice gives me a violent shake, opening my eyes a second before I hear my mom say, she’s probably having a hard time finding a vase for those beautiful flowers, I’ll go see what’s keeping her.
Snatching the roses off the counter, I open the cabinet under the sink. Wishing I could stuff them down the disposal, I throw them away and head back to the foyer before my mother has to hunt me down and drag me out of the kitchen.
After the movie, Brock insisted on going to The Saddle. Knowing from past experience that any protest from me will either be ignored or make him angry, I quietly complied while repeatedly fending off offers to buy me a drink. “One drink isn’t going to kill you,” he tells me, giving me that same grin he used to give me when we were together. The one that made me giddy with anticipation. Seeing it now, the only thing I feel is nausea.
“It’s bad enough that I’m in here,” I say, trying to soften my rejection as best as I can. “When my father finds out—”
“Your father’s a thousand miles away by now,” Brock reminds me with a self-important smirk. “Besides, you’re with me, remember? ”
Biting my tongue, I just shake my head. “I’ve been up since 3AM, a drink will most likely put me under the table.”
Even though I can see annoyance flickering in his eyes, Brock gives me that nausea inducing smile again. “Suit yourself.” Dropping a quick kiss on my cheek before I can protest, he straightens himself with a nod toward the back of the bar. “I’m gonna shoot a few games of pool with the boys.”
Eager to be rid of him, I nod and smile, resigning myself to the fact that I’ll have to do my morning chores in the dress I borrowed from Abbey for the occasion. “Have fun.”
That was nearly four hours ago and I’ve had about all the fun I can stand.
“I love your dress.” Amanda Swanson leans over the table to shout at me over the din of the jukebox. Her father owns a small ranch on the other side of the valley. We used to be best friends. That changed after the first time I broke up with Brock.
“Thanks.” I force a smile onto my face because I know her. I’ve seen her play this particular game more than once.
“Didn’t your sister wear it in here last week?” She gives me a sweet smile while her friends laugh at me behind their hands.
It’s no secret that Amanda has been campaigning hard for the title of Mrs. Brock Morris . Before my father made his abrupt announcement last week, it seemed like a real possibility. One that I clung to.
“Probably,” I answer her, pretending to be totally oblivious to her attempt at embarrassing me. “It’s her dress.” Stifling a yawn, I stand up from the table I’ve been camped out at and offer her a sweet smile. “It was nice to see you again, Amanda,” I say, lying to her gaping face before I turn away from her to head off to find Brock. If he's not ready to leave, I’ll walk home. I’d rather get mauled by a pack of wolves than spend one more minute fielding insults and dirty looks from his fan club.
Finding him at the pool tables, I stiffen my spine, preparing myself for a don’t be stupid, you can’t walk home or a we’ll leave when I’m ready, I tap him on the shoulder. Instead of saying any of that, Brock turns to me with a smile. “Ready to go, Kaitydid?”
Staring at him, mouth open for just a moment, I close it with a quick nod. “Yeah. I can just walk home if you want to—”
“No girl of mine is going to walk home,” Brock announces loud enough to draw a few looks from the neighboring tables. “If you’re ready to go, then so am I.”
Sending a wide grin around the pool table he and his friends are clustered around, he slips an arm around my waist and it takes everything I have to keep from clawing his eyes out. “Catch you boys, later.” Handing off his pool cue to one of his buddies, the rest of them shoot a round of smirks at each other while Brock pilots me through the bar and out into the parking lot.
Settled into his truck a few minutes later, he gives me a sheepish grin before he starts its engine. “You don’t mind if I make a quick stop for gas, do you? I was so excited for our date, I forgot to fill up before I picked you up.”
Glancing at the fuel gage, I see that it’s dipping dangerously close to empty. The last thing I need is to be stranded on some dark, dirt road with Brock Morris for company. Give me a pack of wolves any day.
Giving him a jerky headshake, I lean my forehead against the passenger side window and close my eyes. “No,” I say softly, my warm breath bouncing back to me against the cool glass. “I don’t mind as long as you take me home after.”
I did the one thing I shouldn’t have.
The one thing I knew was a mistake, the second I opened my eyes.
I fell asleep.
The last thing I remember is Brock pulling into the self-serve gas station on the corner of Main and Eugene. It was closed but the pumps were still on. Mr. Sutton closes the pay booth at 9PM but there’s an on your honor cash box bolted to the door for people who need to fill up after hours.
Brock hopped out and I watched him stuff a wad of bills into the box before making his way back to the pumps.
That’s the last thing I remember.
“Where are we?” I ask quietly, peering out the window into the dark, nothing but the shapes of trees bathed in moonlight beyond it. There are trees everywhere in Barrett. We could be anywhere.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Brock says in that too nice tone that makes me nervous. “You nodded off on the way home so I thought I’d take a drive around the lake a time or two to give you a chance to sleep before I took you home.”
Northpoint.
Aiming my gaze past him, I can see the moon dancing on the water, the sparkle of it broken by the thick stand of trees that separate the narrow road we’re on from the shore. On the other side of it, I can see the steep pitch of the lake house roof, glowing silver, its windows dark.
“Oh...” Alarm bells ringing in the distance because we’re not driving. We’re parked by the lake, his truck concealed by the trees. “Thank you...” Forcing myself to be polite, I do everything I can to keep my tone neutral. “I’m awake now. You can head back to the house—I know you’ve probably been up since sunrise.” According to the clock on his dash, it’s nearly 2AM. “You must be as tired as I am.”
He laughs, the sound of it sending those alarm bells jangling down my spine. “No sense in hurrying off, Kaitydid,” he tells me, gaze still aimed out the windshield. “Like you said—you’re awake now.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Yes, but—”
“I stole a couple of blankets from the church ladies.” He talks over me, ignoring my protest while the corner of his mouth lifts in that smile that used to make me weak in the knees. “Since you’re awake, I think we’ll spread ‘em out in the bed of my truck and do some star-gazing.”
The first time he brought me out here to star-gaze, I was fifteen and I thought I was the luckiest girl in the valley. It didn’t take me very long to realize how wrong I was.
“Brock,” I try again, doing my best to beat back the panic that’s starting to chew into my belly. “I’ve had a really long day. I just want to—”
Brock turns in his seat to look at me.
He’s not smiling anymore.
“I don’t remember asking you what you want,” he tells me, his too nice tone going hard around its edges. “Now—” Reaching up, he gives the key dangling from the steering column a twist, killing the engine. “We can either do this, nice and easy, in the bed of my truck like we used to or —”
“Okay.” I nod, swallowing hard against the knot of fear lodged in my throat. Still nodding, I reach for the handle on my door. “We can look at the stars.” I push a smile onto my face while my fingers wrap around the handle. “I’m just nervous, is all.”
“It’s okay, Kaitydid.” My admission makes him smile again. “There’s nothing to be nervous about—it ain’t nothing we haven’t done before, right?”
Still nodding, my stomach gives a sickening lurch. “Right,” I answer him, even managing to smile—right before I yank my door open and bolt.
I don’t get far—not more than a few yards away from the truck before he catches me.
“Where you going, Kaitydid?” he asks, a split second before I feel his hand wrapping itself in my hair, the painful jerk of it stopping me in my tracks.
Like an animal caught in a trap, I round on him, swinging wildly, desperate to get away from him. If I can just get away from him, I can run to the lake house. That’s where Went is and no matter how angry he is with me, I know he’ll—
“ Goddamnit .” One of my wild swings connects with soft tissue and Brock lets out a roar. “I thought you said you wanted it nice and easy…” Spinning me around, he slams me into the side of his truck, my head ricocheting off the flared wheel well so hard my eyes instantly swim out of focus and the world around me slips away before I even hit the ground.