Chapter 1
Keep reading for a sneak peek of my recent release,
Andie
“I just want them to know they didn’t break me”
For her ninth birthday, Andie received a castle—not a fancy one with turrets and crenellations, but a fortress.
It might not have looked like anything special to most people, but it contained a bed she didn’t have to share with her younger sister, plus a built-in bookcase to fill with her favorite books.
The room gave her the high ground in her house, and she imagined it would be the perfect place for dreams, tucked into the highest point of the vaulted ceiling.
What a fool her nine-year-old self had been.
Twenty-one years later, as Andie drove up to the curb outside her new rental and parked, she realized her expectations of that long-ago bedroom and this place had both been too high.
A sinking sensation filled her stomach and rested like a stone-hard lump as she took stock. When would she learn to be realistic?
She couldn’t take her eyes off her new accommodations. What a dump. Still, what could she expect for somewhere that hadn’t requested references and had been available on fourteen hours’ notice? Who knows how long it had stood vacant.
The compact house hadn’t appeared so run-down in the pictures online—just cozy.
Its faded mottled brown exterior, sagging front porch, and overgrown lawn were a stark contrast to the pristine white house next door.
The neighbor’s residence had a wrap-around porch and a well-maintained lawn, which looked professionally cared for—every blade of emerald grass even.
A round turret rose from the rear, giving it more of a castle look, which must be what triggered her memory.
Tulips and daffodils blossomed in orderly rows.
Unlike her new yard, which just sprouted scraggly weeds—not even dandelions, which would at least be cheerful.
Still, anywhere was better than staying at her old apartment in a fancy high-rise, where Dylan would soon return. She just needed to adjust her attitude and view things as they were instead of turning everything into a story.
The Seattle area was expensive, so this place was all Andie could afford to rent at short notice on a public-school teacher’s salary.
With a deep breath, she spoke to herself.
“Come on, living alone and starting over isn’t so awful.
You did it before. You can do it again.” She glanced at the indented band on her left hand, where, until an hour ago, her wedding ring used to live.
Her barren finger seemed naked, but she couldn’t stay married to Dylan after the last beating.
His anger had always been terrible. The first time he’d hit her, he’d apologized, but last night, he’d pummeled her again.
She wished she’d left after the first time, and she wasn’t staying for a third occurrence.
Her whole life, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t put up with physical violence—not from anyone.
No matter the circumstances. Yet, here she was, doing damage control.
Her mind had replayed the latest incident a thousand times since it had happened yesterday.
She’d forgiven him once, but never again.
If she hadn’t moved out, she wouldn’t have respected herself. Tears welled up at the memory, but she blinked them away. Dylan wasn’t worth it.
Two fingers returned to her tender cheekbone with the livid eggplant bruise.
That’s where the first blow had landed.
Andie bit her lip and stopped. If she wasn’t careful, she’d give herself cold sores, a side effect of stress and chapped lips—a deadly combo.
The tight sensation in her chest persisted.
This morning, she hadn’t spoken to Dylan, who’d returned after she’d gone to sleep.
She hadn’t told him she was moving out. Instead, she’d gotten up, pretending to get ready for work, and waited for him to leave before packing.
She glanced at her phone. In eight hours, he would arrive home.
When he didn’t find her there, he would call, demanding to know where she was.
They had another political event on the schedule tomorrow, and he’d have to go solo—which would irk him.
Like the first time he’d hit her, Dylan would be contrite today and buy flowers.
He would expect forgiveness. She took a deep breath and held it for several seconds before exhaling.
Such a move wouldn’t sway her, and she didn’t intend to divulge her new address.
Let him fume; she was across town and safe.
She swallowed. What if he showed up at her school? She couldn’t leave her job; she owed it to her students to stay. Plus, she’d never get a reference for another teaching job if she abandoned this one. Andie couldn’t dwell on her fear right now. She had more immediate concerns.
Lifting her chin, she opened the car door and stepped out into the brisk morning air.
This rental would have to suffice, at least for a while.
When Dylan had stormed out of the condo for his usual session at the gym last night, she’d arranged new accommodation and logged her absence online to request a substitute for today.
She planned to get settled in her new place while he was busy at work.
Andie examined both sides of the quiet street.
Most of the houses were like the white house, large, clean, and well-kept.
Her eyesore of a rental stood out—sending her mind back to places she’d lived growing up.
Why had the neighbors allowed it to remain in this condition?
She’d make a stab at improving the exterior and the garden because it seemed to be a decent neighborhood, and she didn’t want to live in a place that screamed poor or neglected.
Her family had done enough of that in her childhood.
She thrust those thoughts from her head and got moving.
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she popped the trunk and grabbed her suitcases before heading up the cracked and pitted walkway to the rundown house.
The top two boards of the stairs rocked, but she could fix them.
While she strode toward the door, she continued her list of what she’d need to buy—a few basic tools, like a hammer and a screwdriver.
The weathered planks of the porch seemed sturdy enough.
Her acquaintances from work seemed to think it unusual she took care of odd jobs on her own, but she always had.
Andie unlocked the front door with the key she’d just picked up from her new landlord down the street.
She wrinkled her nose at the first step inside and restrained her gag reflex.
Perhaps rotten garbage had been left behind or a rodent had died.
But she could handle something like that.
No wonder the landlord was willing to take anyone.
Steeling herself, she continued exploring, stopping in the kitchen to scrape open the window over the sink, letting in a blast of fresh air.
She added cleaning supplies to her mental shopping list.
Andie glanced around the cramped living room and dirty, sun-faded kitchen, her chest tightening as her anxiety over all the changes that day spiraled.
The description online said “furnished,” but was a generous claim.
The faded, brownish-red couch cushions had worn thin and displayed a suspicious gloss, while the sagging upholstery also sported half a dozen cigarette-sized burn holes.
She’d have to cover the whole thing with something pretty.
Maybe a crocheted afghan. Only two chairs sat at the stained, uneven kitchen table—one leg of which was an old broom handle.
She’d left behind an upscale apartment and new furniture, but everything there belonged to Dylan.
Honestly, she didn’t mind leaving it all behind.
Andie had grown up with nothing, and she could make do for a while—the familiarity of her history adding to the feeling of safety and of returning to herself.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d started over. Or the second.
Biting her lip again, Andie headed into the bedroom, not expecting much.
To her surprise, she found a bookcase, a bedside table, and a matching bed courtesy of IKEA.
They looked solid. The bookcase had room for her favorite books.
The tightness in her chest relented somewhat.
At least this space she could make her own.
She’d likely be hanging out in here most of the time.
She poked her head into the bathroom to find a bland, cramped bathroom with a shower-tub combo featuring black spots on the caulking and grout, while a faint scent of mildew pervaded the air.
A massive spider web strung across the far corner, its inhabitant dangling from the middle, lurking.
She’d deal with it later. The ceiling sported several vintages of brown water stains.
Perhaps she’d ask her landlord about painting.
She didn’t think he’d mind, if she completed the work herself.
Andie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she lived here for a while, she could save money for an upgrade next year. She was still searching for a forever home. Maybe she could beat her record and live here longer than three years.
She yawned as her energy waned. The argument last evening had thrown her for a loop and left her awake long into the early hours.
Four hours of sleep would need to suffice, because she had a lot left to accomplish today.
With a little elbow grease, she could transform her rental into a new and improved castle. One where she’d feel protected.