Prologue #3
Zane pulls into his driveway and I don’t hesitate to hustle out of the vehicle and collect my stuff.
I barely give the guys a wave goodbye and a mumbled excuse before I’m heading for my door.
I know they can see something is up, but since I’m not even certain about my own feelings, there’s no way I’d be able to explain them.
My head hangs low, thoughts still swirling with images of the scarred man.
The way he exuded an aura of danger and fright without even moving.
Something about him, from the way he stood to the motions of him smoking, has me on edge.
So on edge in fact, that I don’t notice the large body standing in the open door of my house.
Smashing into a wall of chest muscle, I stumble on my feet, falling off the porch step backwards.
My arms flail, and a brief shriek rips from my throat as my eyes close tight, bracing for a painful impact.
But it never comes; instead, a strong pair of arms wrap around me, catching me before I hit the pavement.
Blinking rapidly, my head tilts back as an excited smile washes over my face.
“Daddy!” I jump into his arms, wrapping my tiny body around his. Every worry and fear I previously had, forgotten, as I nuzzle deeper into my fathers embrace.
“Heya, Peanut!” he says over a giggle, his arms squeezing me tighter.
There will never be an age where I don’t jump right into his arms when I see him.
Especially when he comes home from a trip.
My dad and I have this special unspoken bond.
Something that I cherish more and more as I get older.
He’s my go-to person, even more than Mom in a lot of situations.
I suppose having four guy best friends could play a part in that.
Him having more of a need to protect or look out for his little girl, but never once has he shown an issue with them being around.
Actually, if I didn’t know any better… I’d think he likes that I have my own personal guard dogs. Not that he would ever admit that…
My dad—David—and my mom—Rosie—met when they were in their early twenties, and I was born less than two years later.
I was even at their wedding, not that I can remember a damn thing…
but there’s pictures. They always say it was love at first sight, that they instantly knew they had met “the one.” This is, of course, right before they start getting all mushy and gross.
Staring at each other like only the two of them exist. Blech, barf.
Nothing worse than watching your parents get all touchy-feely.
Mom works for a small tech company that allows her to do most of her duties from home, giving us the opportunity to have her around as we’ve grown up.
I can never remember the name of her company, not that it matters, she’s here and that’s what’s important to me.
When Dad accepted the promotion that involved him needing to travel to so many places, she opted to work in the house full time so someone was always home.
Truthfully, I envy the relationship my parents have, anyone can see the love between them. It may be gag-inducing to watch, but it’s the kind of devotion and connection I’d love to have. An all-consuming romance with someone who would move heaven and earth for me.
Dad walks back inside with Mom in tow, my bag cradled against her chest and a soft smile upon her face.
He sits on the couch, the cushions sagging under our combined weight.
I’m still holding onto him like a koala, clinging to him like he’ll disappear if I let go.
With a brief kiss placed against the side of my head, I bounce off his frame and flop onto the spot next to him.
“Ready?” Dad asks, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small gift box.
My head nods rapidly, excitement bubbling to the brim to play our little game.
My curiosity and intrigue are through the roof, and a very unattractive squeal vibrates from deep in my chest. My grin is wide, reaching from ear to ear, as I continue to twitch.
The velvet enclosure is small, smaller than a bracelet but larger than a ring box, and my heart feels like it’s about to leap out of my chest as I go to open it.
Inside, laying against a cotton pillow is a beautiful keychain.
Tiny fake diamonds line the edges, encompassing a picture of a beach at sunset.
The words: “The Sunshine State” are written across the sky in beautiful cursive.
My eyes bulge as I realize where he was.
The tag line, the water, the palm trees, it can all only be from one place.
My gaze darts from the tiny piece of cold metal to the blazing brown eyes of my father as he looks at me with excitement.
“You were in Miami?” I choke out, my eyes filling with tears.
Both of my parents along with all of the parents, have always known it’s been a dream of mine and the guys, to move to Florida one day. Miami specifically. The beaches, the sun, the stunning ocean views combined with the sprawling city skyline, it’s… perfect.
Of course, growing up in this small town we’ve always had big dreams. Dreams that require moving to a city with resources and consumers.
Personally, I want to open a tattoo parlor.
To create permanent art my clients can enjoy for years and gain a loyal clientele.
Days spent in the chair, evenings along the beach, and weekends in the ocean.
“I was, and let me tell you, Peanut, it’s beautiful there. You will fall in love instantly.” Dad places another kiss on my forehead, pushing the liquid collecting in my eyes to finally fall. Who knew a single key-chain would be the cause for this much emotion? Not me, that’s for sure.
My parents have always been supportive, even knowing that I’ve wanted to leave Texas, leave them.
I’ve been saving to make it happen when I graduate.
Donations from them on my birthdays or other holidays, as well as odd jobs around our little town.
Babysitting, yard work, cleaning, you name it—I’ve done it.
Every dollar I make is placed in a special bank account, waiting until my time here comes to its end.
Two more years, and I can bask in the sun and sip coffee while I watch the waves crest the shoreline.
I give my dad a large hug, before running up the stairs to my room.
There is only one place for this new piece to go, and that’s on my keys.
Normally, the gifts Dad brings home all get placed into that special container in my drawer, but it only feels right that this one be with me all the time.
A reminder of what I’ve been working for, and the dreams I’m chasing.
While in my room, I strip out of my bathing suit.
Changing into a comfy pair of shorts and a crop top.
The long day in the sun has exhausted my body and although the excitement from Dad’s return still lingers, I know I need to rest. My small frame falls against the mattress, the covers and blankets still bunched in piles from this morning.
My head lands on the pillow, but not even the lump under my hip stops me, before I’m out like a light.
Quite annoyingly, I wake to the obnoxious sounds my stomach happens to be making and the irritating dull pain that follows.
What freaking time is it?! Crawling out of my bed, my eyes catch on movement and I look to find my curtains swaying.
The warm July breeze flows into my room through my open window, bringing with it the smell of freshly cut grass.
Throwing the fabric to the side, the moon hangs high in the sky, its beams highlighting the front yard and the little gnome Mom swears protects her garden from rodents.
Dang! No wonder my stomach is throwing a hissy fit.
I should probably be concerned how I didn’t even flinch at the sound of the lawnmower, but sleeping like the dead can be a future Addison problem. For now, I need food.
Fumbling through my bag, which I now realize Mom must have brought up, I find my phone to plug it in. It lights up bright, letting me know it’s a little after two in the morning and that I completely slept through dinner.
“That never happens,” I groan to myself, whilst changing into some PJ’s.
The glowing light on the hood fan flickers as I enter the kitchen. Dad probably left it on in the event I woke and scoured the house for something to eat. Hopefully, that means there’s also something delicious left in the fridge for me as well.
After reheating my portion of dinner and downing a glass of milk, my eyes begin to droop once again.
The food hitting my tummy, warming my insides and triggering my brain to sleep.
Subconsciously, my feet move for the stairs, ready to head back to the comforts of my bed, when a movement to my right stops me cold.
Mom and Dad are asleep. We don’t have a dog—not that I haven’t tried—so what in the deepest parts of Satan's butt-crack is moving in my house?
My heart is racing, my breaths coming out in short pants, as I turn to face the living room.
A familiar cold shiver shoots through my body, and instantly my spine is straight.
“H-Hello?” I whisper. “Is anybody there?”
I really don’t know what I’m expecting at this point. As if some big scary dude is going to walk out of the shadows, answering my questions like: “Hi. Yes, can I get you something?”
C’mon Add’s, pull your shit together.
Quietly padding over to the far wall, I hold my breath as my hand moves against the plaster looking for the light switch.
Internally, I’m praying that when it lights everything up, there’s not a knife wielding mass murderer sitting in my Dad’s lounge chair.
On contact, I flick it on, my head darting from side to side, searching the room for anything out of place.