Chapter 34
S ix hours later, I'm on a plane.
As I sit there, staring out a window at miles of empty plains passing away below me, I'm numb.
This morning's panic is starting to fade, leaving me exhausted and gray.
I just felt so penned in. When Connie told me that my only possible route of escape was slamming shut in front of me, the panic crested over.
I stopped by the guys' house just long enough to throw some clothes in a bag, thankful all the while that I didn't run into anyone.
If they had asked me to stay, I don't know what I would have done.
If they had let me go, I would have been even more lost.
It's better this way. I took my exit before they could get tired of me, while I still had some resources to make my own way out.
So why does my heart ache at the thought of them finding the note?
I scribbled it on a random scrap of paper.
I stuck to the facts, thanking them for everything and telling them there was an emergency and I had to get back before I lost my job.
Everything I wrote was the truth, and every word was the very worst kind of lie.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the thick glass.
I miss them already, is the thing. Adam would have teased me about calling to make my flights instead doing it online, then gently taken my phone from my hand.
Sergio would have given me a look that told me in an instant that I had my head up my freaking ass.
Jax might have told me what an idiot I was being to my face.
And Deandre…he would have held me. He would have asked me why I didn't trust that my daddy would take care of his little girl.
Cayden would have kissed me softly and told me not to go.
Not that I gave them the chance.
What choice did I have, though? Even if all their promises were true, a girl can't shack up with five men.
It's wrong. It's not done. People would talk.
I could hardly stand the judging stares when I was sleeping with the vice principal at my school.
How would people look at me if they knew I merrily spread my legs for all these guys? Would they call me a slut? Or a whore?
Maybe I was both. It felt right whenever I was in their arms, but I still can't banish the terrified voice in the back of my head that insists over and over that it's so, so wrong.
Through the rest of the flight, I flutter back and forth. I'm numb and sad and angry at myself, at society. Irrationally, I'm even angry at them, but it's not their fault they put me in an impossible situation.
By the time we land, I'm a wreck. I walk off the plane with my vision blurry and my heart sore.
It doesn't matter how I feel, though. Not anymore. I made my choice, and it was to try to salvage what was left of my old life. There's no going back now.
The ride back to my place costs a small fortune. I teach in a small town an hour away from the closest airport. I'm lucky anyone was even willing to take the fare at all.
I tip the driver and send her on her way, and then there I am, standing in front of the small rented house where I live.
Inside, it's dark, and the air is stale. I've been gone for months. Thank god I gave my plants away, because they all would have died a long, long time ago.
Flipping on the light, I shiver. The heat's been off for months, too. The chill racks me to my bones.
Another, crushing pang of regret threatens to swamp me. I could be eating dinner around a big table, surrounded by the five mountain men that I love. I could be calling Lonely Peak my home, but instead I'm here.
There aren't as many ghosts kicking around this little house as there were at my grandmother's.
It's entirely my fault. But I don't think I've ever felt quite so alone.