A Long Time Coming (2 page)

His guilt over holding her
back from things she deserved most in life would have burdened David until the
day he died if they had finished what he knew they both wanted. But Abigail was
far too beautiful, talented, loving, and perfect to ever have to suffer through
life with a cripple like him.

David’s eyes whipped open when
the car stopped a few minutes later. He gave his head a quick jerk, focusing on
the driveway. But that’s also when his gaze found the house that had not only
sheltered him as a child growing up, but also stolen his sanity at the same
time. God, he didn’t want to go in there. That place had become a prison to
him. Nothing more than a place to sleep, eat, and suffer. He hated his house
worse than he hated his prosthetic leg, and that was saying something. He
sighed, shifting his leg in the seat. The leather stuck to the backside of is
thigh, and added to his misery.

“Listen David, I’m sorry if I
embarrassed you today, but you need to know that I’m just as frustrated as you
are.”

His jaw clenched tight; his cheekbones
ached something fierce, “
What?
” He snapped, facing her again. “
You’re
frustrated
with
my
issues
?”
He gripped the door handle,
whipping it open.
“Well I know a way to solve that problem now,
Mother
,”
he reached around, and grabbed his crutches. His hands shook as he braced his
weight on them, and stared at her from over his shoulder, “…leave me the hell
alone, and don’t even
try
to understand my frustration, because you have
no
idea what this is like for me!” He pushed himself upwards, and hopped
away, slamming the door shut behind him with the end of one of his crutches.
The window was open, and he leaned down, wincing in pain as he focused on her
stunned face. “I’m here damn it, I’m alive. That’s all that should matter to
you. So if you want to help me get past this shit,” he spat, pointing down at
his non–existent leg, “…then stop with the damn crying!”

He was done, with everything.
His life sucked ass, his mother was crazy, and his father was a new absentee
who didn’t seem to give a shit what happened with his son. Screw his life! And
screw his mother!

Chapter Two

“Stupid best friends in love…
”
Abigail Zane mumbled under her breath, slamming her phone against her lap for
the sixth time in the past hour. She threw herself onto her back across the
length of her king–sized mattress. Straight–up irritation laced her mood today,
and she was
not
a moody sort of girl.

Of all the times for Harley,
her supposed very best friend in the world, not to answer her phone! Jesus,
wasn’t the girl supposed she have a sixth sense for people and their life
crisis events? This one was epic, too.

Most likely though, she was
too busy
getting
busy with that sexy surfer boyfriend of hers to even
hear the phone ring. But still, it was the world’s shittiest feeling to be
ignored by the one person who she always thought she could count on—the one
girl who had been there for her through thick and thin since kindergarten.
Usually Abigail could take the pain, the pressure in her hollow chest from
missing her best friend so damn badly. But this time wasn’t as easy to deal
with as most of the others, especially when she was on the verge of seriously
losing her sanity.

Throwing her arms over her
eyes, she stilled, listening for any evidence that said
new
crisis had
left the house. But her mother’s giggles from below were evidence enough that
he
hadn’t left yet. Groaning, Abigail sat up and began to scroll down the list
of contacts in her phone as a distraction. Not that it would do her any good at
all, because the only other name on that contact list that could remotely help
her, would either hang up on her immediately, or not answer her call.

Abigail hadn’t physically
spoken to David Anderson, Harley’s twin—the guy who would always inevitably
break her heart—in over three months. But the last thing David needed was to
hear about her latest family fiasco anyways, so it was better this way. He may
have been her dream hottie, but he definitely wouldn’t understand her issues,
nor did he need the added drama to his life.

Nobody would understand,
actually.

She tossed the phone onto the
comforter, groaning as she sat up and slipped her feet onto the floor. Moping
was her new best friend as she moved towards the huge picture window that faced
her backyard. Her attention, like always, was drawn to the unused pool sitting
lonely and grungy beneath layers of fungus and grime.

A sad smile hovered over her
quivering lips at the memory of her father dunking her mom’s head into the deep
end of the pool. She ran her fingertips down the glass, still picturing her
mother’s face contorting into an angry scowl whenever she got a lick of water
on her hair. They couldn’t mess up her new color, or God forbid her crappy perm
would get soaked. The lady was the straightest stick in the mud. Well, except
for today of course. Because what Abigail saw downstairs was anything but
straight. Curvy, contorted, and disgusting maybe, but definitely not
stick–straight.

Abigail backed away from the
ledge, pressing the palms of her hands over her stomach. It hadn’t stopped
churning since she’d left the basement. The sight of her mom all sprawled out
on the family’s
pool table, screaming in ecstasy, with the hairy ass of
a man she knew as Bob the Builder bent over her, was almost blinding to her
eyes.

She moved towards her bed
again, unable to keep still for too long, and sat on the edge. She gripped her
childhood stuffed teddy bear tightly, tucking it under her chin, suddenly
feeling like a prisoner in her own home.

The guy would leave soon. He
had to. Her dad would be home, and her mother wasn’t
that
stupid to have
her lover still here when her hubby came rolling in.

Well, maybe she was, but
still…

She shook her head as those
very scarce days from her past, dissipated once more into her memories. Family
time was no more, not that she was surprised or shocked by the fact that her
mom and Mr. Construction man were flinging. Abigail knew all about having a
different boy toy every other week, they were easy, simple, nothing too
complicated or messy. But wasn’t marriage supposed to be different than being
nineteen years old and experiencing your life? Weren’t two people who made vows
to love, honor and cherish for all their lives, supposed to follow through with
it? Harley’s parents did. Hell, half the town of Hillsdale held the forever
kind of couples. Nobody she knew seemed to get divorced, which was actually a
rarity in this day and age.

Finally, after what felt like
hours of staring off into the space of her pink–walled room, the phone rang.
Abigail jumped, falling from her waking nightmare, turning into panic mode as
she hunted for her cell that she had only just held minutes before. She
blinked, finally spotting it. Flying forward towards the head of her bed, she
swiped the answer key without even checking the number. It had to have been
Harley. She was the only person who called her these days.

“O.M.G.! I have been waiting
for you for like, ever and a day! Tell me you and sexy surfer boy weren’t
humping, because I
so
don’t want to see that image in my mind!”

A throat cleared on the other
end of the line. A manly throat…a fatherly throat. Shit… “Um, Abigail, I didn’t
just hear my daughter ask about humping, did I?”

She gnawed on her lower lip,
clearing her throat as her face burned to a crispy fire–red, “Oh! Hey daddy,
how’s it going?” She shut her eyes, and then hairy old man asses—and screaming
moans—came to the forefront of her mind. She reopened them widely again,
shaking the image from her corrupted brain. Crap! Why did she have to see that
again? Now she was so going to have to lie. And lying to her dad was like lying
to God—she hated doing it, but it was a necessity she kind of had to face.

“Well…” he sighed, “things are
going fine here. How’s your day been so far?” She slapped her hand over her
eyes. Ugh, he
would
have to ask that wouldn’t he?

“Fine,” she whispered in a
rush, “I just, um, am getting my stuff ready to start class tomorrow.” She
stood, rustling around through her book bag for show.

Hey, at least it wasn’t a
complete lie if she did that, right?

“Ah, yes, cosmetology school.
How could I have forgotten?” he sighed, chuckling under his breath.

Abigail rolled her eyes, a
tiny smiled threatened to curve up at the tips of her dry lips as she flicked
the zipper of her book bag with her fingertips. Let’s just say her father
wasn’t entirely in agreement with the whole idea of her becoming a
cosmetologist, a hairdresser.
He’d always made it known to both her and
her mom, that he wanted Abigail to follow
his
career path as a big–wig
banker, rather than her mom’s. But for once, she had to disagree with him on
her future because the one thing she enjoyed most of all was doing hair. Yeah,
it wasn’t the most ambitious career choice out there—nor was it the best paying
one—but happiness outweighed success in her mind, and as of right now, she
needed all the happiness she could find.

“
Yes dad
, cosmetology
school. Anyways,” she popped her lips, leaning back against her dresser,
“what’s up?” she tugged at the ends of her long ponytail that hung over her
shoulder, twirling it impatiently with her fingers as she waited for him to
respond.

“Well,” he cleared his throat.
His voice seemed to shake as he spoke, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.
Abigail narrowed her eyes. What was
his
issue? “I need you to let your mother
know that I won’t be home until late tonight. I’ve got a few more details to go
over with Marcus about the new bank going up in Kearney.” Abigail blew out a
quiet breath, thanking the big guy upstairs for keeping the crisis at bay for a
little bit longer.

She wasn’t in an emotional
state of mind for world war three tonight. And that’s exactly what would have
happened if her father would have come home and discovered his wife doing the
horizontal polka with her new, much younger, flavor of the month.

She nodded, even though she
knew he wouldn’t see her, “Sure thing, Daddy, I’ll let her know.” Abigail
started to pace the floor, just as the guilt crept up on her. She would not
feel guilty—this was her mother’s doing—not
hers.

“Is everything okay, pumpkin?
You sound kind of down.”

She stiffened, shutting her
lids to focus on the blackness. Black helped her function when she was
stressing. “I’m okay. Sleepy, but okay.” Her pacing ceased as she sat back down
on her bed. A hefty sigh released from her mouth, and tears welled in the
corner of her eyes, burning the lids.

Abigail was not a crier. But
as she prepared to tell her dad goodbye, the tears were suddenly threatening
like a wildfire just off in the distance—still a distance away, but just as
threatening and dangerous. “I’ll, um, see you later Dad.” She stuttered,
needing to get off of the phone—five minutes ago.

“All right sweetheart, I love
you. Try to get some rest tonight, okay? And I’ll hopefully see you sometime
tomorrow evening.”

“Love you too, Dad.” She
tossed the phone onto the nightstand without a goodbye. Utter frustration
tugged at the pieces of her sort of intact heart thrumming around inside her
chest.

She fell onto her bed. She
just needed to sleep—even though she knew the tears would surely escape the
moment she relaxed her eyelids. But when she decided to give it a try, to let
her emotions go, a soft knock landed against her door instead. She curled her
lip in annoyance, and then she sighed. Great! Just freaking great; there was
only
one
person who would be at her door right now. One person she
absolutely did not want to see…

Abigail rolled over onto her
stomach, shoving her head under her soft, downy pillow with a groan. She lay
there quietly, for a few more agonizing minutes, biting her upper lip as the
knocking persisted.

“Honey, I heard your phone
jingling. Was that your dad calling?” Jesus, was privacy no longer sacred in
this house?

Abigail lifted her head,
laying it on top of the pillow before facing the door. A hint of anxiousness
laced her mother’s eyes when she finally peered through the crack a minute
later. Well, it was either anxiousness or post–coital bliss that is. Either
way, it did nothing more than piss off Abigail some more. She regarded the
woman she’d never been close to with narrowed eyes. But her mom didn’t take
hints well and simply shoved her way inside.

“Well, gee Mom, it’s fabulous
to see you too,” sarcasm was Abigail’s forte, and her mother always managed to
bring out that wonderful side to her. “And yeah, that was Dad. He’s going to be
late tonight, and he just wanted me to give you a heads–up.”

Her mom let out a long sigh,
obviously relieved that she didn’t have to face him yet. Damn her. If she
wasn’t her mother, then Abigail would have most likely slapped the stupid right
from her dense, pale face. Her mom paused, turning around to face her before
walking back out the door. Her mouth jarred open a little bit—as if she wanted
to tell her something else. Abigail waited—her own eyes wide and pointed—but
her mom never spoke, just continued to stare.

Okay, so apparently Abigail
was going to have to do the talking. “Mom, I gotta ask you something.”

Her mom’s eyes narrowed,
“What’s that?”

Abigail cleared her throat,
suddenly overtaken by nerves. This was easier said in her head, than out loud.
“Are you, um, happy? I mean…are you happy with Daddy that is?” Abigail turned
her gaze towards the blanket, unable to face her mother’s knowing, lying eyes.

Her mom cleared her throat,
“Uh, why the sudden interest in your father’s and my relationship, Abigail?”

“No reason, never mind.” She
nodded, pressing her palms flat on top of her mattress.

“Ooooo–kay then,” and she
left, the sound of her heels clicking away at the floor without a hint of
hesitation.

Damn. So much for caring…

Abigail would have liked to think
that her mother was too wracked with her wicked guilt to respond, and that was
the reason for her instant MIA routine. But she also knew how deep–rooted her
mother’s selfishness went. Her mother wasn’t saddled with guilt over what she’d
done. She was saddled with the worry over being caught.