Chapter 31
Over the last six weeks, Donovan and I hadn’t gone more than an hour without speaking, seeing, or touching each other. He would text me at work. He would leave notes for me to find. We’d laugh. Touch. Play. Make love. Constant communication. And now, it’s been over twenty-four hours since I left him in the doorway outside of his cabin without so much as a word since.
I spent most of that first morning crying in Gran’s cottage. My cottage. The space isn’t large by any means, but it’s perfect. It offers me solace and the space I need to breathe. Think. Process. Cry.
The windows let in the natural light, casting romantic little spotlights throughout the square panes. The rustic birch wood countertops in the quaint kitchen adds a warmth to the space. I imagine Gran making her pie crust from scratch, coating the well-worn apron that now hangs lifeless on the hook, dusted with flour. When I close my eyes and breathe deeply, I can still catch the scent of lemons and berries lingering in the air. Being here has felt like a warm hug from Gran, a comfort I needed after Donovan’s decision to go to the police.
Tia came over and held me while I cried. A lot. We baked cookies, painted each other’s nails, and talked about Donovan. Being in love with him only made the betrayal hurt more. Tia helped me understand his sole purpose after what happened with Kellan was to protect me. But protection requires trust. And that trust was broken.
All night I held the keys to Jules, twisting them around my fingers, contemplating getting in my car and going back to the cabin. Back in his arms. Back home. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? My home? My clothes hang in the closet. My toothbrush sits in the cup by the sink. My recipes are tucked away in the kitchen drawers. Donovan’s cabin—our cabin—has been home the moment I came back to Oakwood Valley.
Tia stayed the night, lightly snoring on the futon in the small living space with the television on. I laid on my back all night, clutching those keys to my chest until I was too tired to think anymore. I missed Donovan.
He hasn’t tried to text or call. I asked for space, and he was giving it to me. I woke up this morning after a horrendous sleep with Tia brewing coffee on the stove. She had plans with her mom but asked if she wanted me to stay. If my mom were here, I’d spend the day with her, no hesitations. So, I told her to go and that I’d be okay.
Today is a big day for me—a day that I was supposed to share with Donovan. I hold the paperwork close to my chest as I stride down the sidewalk in town, just leaving the Oakwood Valley Planning Division office. The afternoon sun is warm as my face naturally tips up towards it, like a cat that always finds the rays through a window.
I got permission for the estate to be converted to a bed-and-breakfast and submitted all of my paperwork into the city. Now we wait for the review process and fingers crossed, approval. I’m one step closer to my dream. One step closer than I thought I’d ever be. A ghost of a smile appears on my face, but doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
Donovan should be here with me.
I push my sunglasses back up the brim of my nose, unlocking Jules and sliding into the front seat. Shoving the papers into the glove compartment, I grip the steering wheel and sit quietly, my thumbs picking over the frayed stitching with anxious energy.
“Today is a good day, Audrey. I’m proud of you,” I whisper to myself. My chin quivers and my jaw ticks as an unexpected wave of tears form behind my eyes. I’m tired of crying. I find my phone out of my purse and unlock it, pulling up Donovan’s name. My thumb trembles over the call and text buttons, darting back and forth between the two. I opt for text and type a message.
Audrey
Hey… I have some good news to share?
*delete*
Audrey
Hi… I miss you…
*delete*
Audrey
I’m not mad anymore. I love you. I need to see you now. I’m going crazy without you.
*delete*
“God damn it,” I mutter, tossing my phone back in my purse, massaging my temples with one hand.
To keep from sulking, I fire up the engine and back out of the parking spot with an itch to bake something. Maybe I’ll bake Donovan a pie. A mixed berry pie that says, “I love you, don’t give me space anymore.”
I hum to myself as the music blares from the speakers, making the familiar turns back to the cottage. My hair whips around my sunglasses when my eyes catch something in my rearview. Pushing my glasses over my head, I squint into the mirror.
What the hell?
My heart races immediately, the heavy thud pounding against my chest cavity as my eyes fix on a very familiar black SUV. No. Donovan said that I’m not being followed. The police ruled everything out. Kellan is in New York—he’s forgotten me. This is a silly coincidence.
My eyes nervously flit back and forth from the road to the mirror, the SUV trailing behind. The windows are heavily tinted, making this so much fucking worse. It’s fine. You’re fine. There’s plenty of people in Oakwood Valley who drive a black SUV. It stays a good distance behind me, but my turn into the winery is only a mile up the road. What if I am being followed? I don’t want to lead them to my house.
I nibble my bottom lip, sinking my teeth in so deep I make myself bleed. I make the split-second decision to make a random turn off, away from the winery to ease my suspicion. Or confirm it.
I turn right onto a dirt path that leads to what used to be the Taylor’s vineyard. My hands slip on the wheel, damp and clammy from the nerves that have taken over my body. Stay. Calm.
Please don’t turn right.
My eyes lock onto the rearview mirror as I mumble a silent prayer to myself. The thumping moves from my chest to my ears, pulsing so violently that it makes my temples throb. I grind my molars so tight that my jaw clicks, a sharp pain shooting through my neck.
No.
The SUV turns right, just yards behind me.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” I stammer, about ten seconds away from full-blown panic mode.
Stay. Calm.
Suddenly, the SUV picks up speed and zooms past me, my head following it as a cloud of dust engulfs my vision. My throat burns from the dirt, coughing as the SUV cuts in front of me. Its red brake lights flash, and my eyes bulge out in fear as I slam both feet hard into my brake pedal.
“Shit!” I scream, the dust swirling around me, covering the man who steps out of the driver’s side. I frantically try to put the car in reverse, but my hands tremble so badly that I can’t get my bearings.
Audrey, focus.
He approaches my car hastily, his hands up in surrender. His cough is gravelly and dry. His black shirt drapes off him like it’s three times too big, his build fragile and weak. He’s tall, more skeleton than human.
Pepper spray. I fumble with the center console and grip the aerosol can with haste, flipping the top around to point it at the man quickly closing in on me.
As the dust settles, he is standing at the hood of my car with eyes sunken and cheekbones jutting out like he’s malnourished. I point the pepper spray at him, hands shaking, heart beating so hard that I’m breathless.
“Audrey, please don’t! It’s me,” he rasps. His dark brown eyes resemble the color of whiskey. Eyes that I know. Eyes that haunt me in a different way than the ocean blues I wish I were staring at instead. I keep the pepper spray held to his face, not realizing that I’m already crying.
“Dad?” I whimper, not believing what I’m seeing. I blink incessantly, like if I do it enough times, he’ll vanish. Like he did for most of my life.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I need to talk to you,” he pleads, his hands still up in surrender. He looks so different. Sickly. Not at all the man I remember. His hands are smeared in grease and dirt. His face is covered in messy stubble, unkempt and dirty.
“What are you doing here? Wh…h-how?” The questions speed through my mind too fast for me to comprehend. It’s just words flying out of my mouth, incoherent thoughts.
“I’ll explain. Could you just…?” He motions for me to take the pepper spray out of his face. Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, or that I’m in shock that my father stands before me. But I comply and lower the spray from his direction.
“So it was you that followed me the other day? Outside of the store?” I ask, my voice shaky. I will myself to be strong. I clear my throat and steel my spine. I’m not letting this man take another ounce of control in my life.
“Yes,” he admits, his gaze softening, like a father that misses his daughter. That pisses me off.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that. You don’t get to look at me like that. Like you feel sorry for me!” I shout with unshed tears. He doesn’t once wince at the punch in my words, so I give him more. “You don’t get to come here and look at me like you love me!”
I stay glued to my seat, hand on the gearshift, in case I need a quick escape. My car stays running, a gentle hum underneath the heaviness and grit of my words. His expression remains soft, fueling me with more rage. Where the hell was this when I needed him? My whole life?
“You’re right. I’m not here to ask for your forgiveness, Audrey,” he says, his voice just above the hum of my engine. “I’m here to warn you.” His tone is hard and harsh, Warn me? My eyes go wide, the aching throb returning to my temples. I ignore it.
“I was contacted by a man named Kellan Vanguard about a month ago.”
No. No, that can’t be right.
I hold my breath, feeling a familiar pain in my lungs as I stifle my breathing.
“He told me he’d send me fifty thousand dollars to let him know your whereabouts,” he chokes. His eyes are wet, reflecting as the sun falls deeper into the horizon. My entire body is cold, veins frozen at the sounds of Kellan’s name coming from my dad. Another monster in my life.
“I racked up a lot of debt, and when he wired me the money, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t say no,” he cries. I scoff, my eyes hardening like metal. Not an ounce of remorse seeps out of me. I once feared this man, begged for his love. Now when I look at him, shriveled up, small, and weak—I’m stronger without him. Always have been.
“He told me he loved you, and that he was trying to reconcile. But the more I talked to him, the less I wanted to hurt you,” he says, voice trembling. “In no way do I deserve to be a father. Your father. But you’re still my kid, and I refused to keep in contact with him.” He stands a little straighter, jutting his chin out. He never moves, keeping our distance from each other like two strangers in passing.
“That made him angry. He snapped, and now the money is gone. I don’t care. I just…I want to make it right. For once,” he stammers, scrubbing a bony hand over his face. There’s that soft gaze again. It doesn’t make me as angry as before, but my walls are up and I don’t plan on bringing them down.
“Please be careful. That’s all I wanted to say. Well, that and…I’m sorry. For everything,” he mutters, a single tear streaking down his face. I grip the gearshift a little tighter as I watch him turn around.
Just as I’m about to shift into reverse, he glances back at me one last time and murmurs, “You’re so beautiful. Just like your mother.”
Dusk is sweeping quickly across the sky as I sit on the futon at the cottage, staring into space. Seeing my dad shook me to my core. I hadn’t expected him to be linked to Kellan at all. The fear that I’d worked so hard to keep away? It’s barging at me with full force and no signs of stopping. The warning my father gave me struck a chord. If he was afraid, he had reason to be. I know Kellan better than anyone. Suddenly, I don’t feel so safe anymore.
I texted Donovan about ten minutes ago, but no response. I lean back with the phone between my legs, checking it over and over for his name to pop up. When I tried calling, it went straight to voicemail.
I pick up and call again.
“Hi, you’ve reached Donovan Ki—” I hang up, grunting in frustration.
To pass the time, I scrounge for my laptop and find it stuffed in my duffle bag. I set it on my lap, pull up the web browser, and type into the search bar: “Kellan Vanguard Events.”
An article from two days ago shows a picture of Kellan with his parents at a gala. In all the years we were together, I’ve only spoken to his parents a handful of times. Looking at his picture seems like a distant dream—or nightmare, rather. My insides twist when I see a scar above his eyebrow where I smashed a vase on him.
I find nothing more about him other than this picture. He’s smiling, putting on a show for everyone, per usual. He’d mingle, turn on the charm, caress my cheek in front of the important New York elite, then leave a bruise on it later that same night.
I shudder at the thought. How I lived my life like that for so long. How I loved him and trusted that he’d take care of me. I shut the computer with a bang, tossing it off of my lap. I pick up the phone again and check Donovan’s text thread. Delivered.
“Ugh,” I grunt, quickly standing to my feet, pacing the length of the living room. I think back to my dad’s words.
“The more I talked to him, the less I wanted to hurt you.”
“That made him angry.”
“He snapped.”
What could Kellan have possibly said to my dad for him to halt his plan? My mind is spiraling, and I find it more difficult to gain control. I lean back against the wall, gripping my hair like I want to rip it out of my head. Why does Kellan have this hold on me still? Why can’t he let me go?
Goddamn it, let me go!
The grief I feel is not from my years wasted with Kellan or being betrayed by Donovan. It’s grief for my spirit. I’m losing myself piece by piece until eventually, I fade into nothing. Just when I think I’m ten steps ahead, life takes its whip and lashes me twenty steps back.
My head snaps toward the door when I hear footsteps approaching.
Donovan.
My heart practically leaps out of my chest, and all of my fear vanishes, knowing that the moment I step into his arms, I’m safe. I stride hastily toward the door, not able to bite back the beaming smile on my face. God, I missed him so much.
I grab the handle and fling the door open, breathless and yearning.
“Donov—”
“Hello, little bird.”