Carter (The Harlow Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

It seems like a lifetime, since Carter Harlow entered my life.

We lived in the same small town where you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a familiar and friendly face. I was five years old, and he was six. I remember that day perfectly. We were at school, playing outside during recess. The school year was almost over, and it was a hot sunny day. The kids in my class played chase, or were in the sandbox making sandcastles. I was sitting on the swing, in my own little world. I didn’t know how to swing yet without someone pushing me. My legs dangled, and I kicked the pebbled rocks with the tip of my shoes. I watched the other kids playing, seeing that they all had a playmate. It made me sad and envious that I didn’t have that. All I wanted was someone to push me on the swing. I didn’t have any friends back then, and maybe Carter knew what a lonely little girl I was.

Looking back, I didn’t understand why my Mom didn’t want anything to do with me, or why my Dad always smelled funny. But, Carter didn’t make fun of my dirty clothes or say anything about how I hadn’t bathed in a week. He walked right up to me, touched my hand holding tightly onto the chain of the swing, and looked right at me.

“I’m Carter. What’s your name?”

I squinted my eyes at him, wondering if he was about to comment on why I was alone. Most kids made fun of me because I didn’t have any friends. They would tease me relentlessly, but it seemed like Carter wasn’t like the other kids at school. “Shelby.”

He stared at me for a moment, then asked, “Can I push you?” I smiled brightly and nodded eagerly. All I wanted was a friend, someone to play with me. Carter took his hand off mine, and walked behind me. He grabbed a hold of the chains, and began to push me. I remembered laughing loudly, loving how high he pushed me. I also remembered holding on tightly to the chains and looking around the playground at the other kids. They didn’t pay us any mind, and I told Carter to push me higher and higher. He did as I asked, laughing right along with me. I finally had someone to play with, and I felt happy. For the first time in my life, I felt just like all the other kids. I felt normal. I remembered how in just a short amount of time, I felt accepted.

When the bell rang for us to go back inside, Carter slowed me down and helped me off the swing. He held my hand as we walked back into the building, and I started to dread the moment when he would drop my hand and head back to class. I didn’t want him to leave me. “Don’t worry, Shelby. I’ll see you after school.” He said once we stopped at my classroom. I grinned and nodded at his promise. That one simple promise meant the world to me, and even if I didn’t have any friends in my class, I knew I gained a new friend with Carter. When he met me right outside my classroom at the end of the day, I knew at the tender age of five, Carter would always keep his promises. Even though we’d just met we shared a bond, something special.

Thinking about it now, I was way too young to understand our connection. There was just something about that sweet, young boy. He quickly became my best friend, and there were hardly any moments when we weren’t together.

Now that I’m older, I still don’t understand the connection we had back then. Even when Carter and his family opened their arms and home to me when I needed them the most, I still didn’t understand why he wanted to be around me. No one else in my family cared anything about me, and it was inevitable for me to fall head over heels in love with him. It didn’t happen suddenly. It happened slowly over the years, time changed our relationship into something I couldn’t live without. There are so many things I still look back on, and I try to figure out why Carter and I were so drawn together. Why, after everything we went through, he could just … let me go? I thought what Carter and I shared was special, one of a kind. But everything changed once he left for college.

When Carter Harlow broke my heart, I did what I knew best.

I ran.

Pulling the hood of my jacket over my head as I exit the bus station, I glance around me, nervous I’m being followed. I have no idea if Easton knows I’ve left or not, and I didn’t stick around to find out. Shifting my heavy bag onto my other shoulder, I hope I didn’t manage to lose anything. It was hell getting out of Charleston, South Carolina, and knowing my friends were the cause for my abrupt departure still puts a sick feeling in my gut. Betrayed by everyone I thought were the ones looking out for me. What a crock of shit. I’ve come to realize in the past few weeks the only person I can trust is myself.

I watch a man pass by, and I still as he nears me. My heart drums in my chest, and panic starts to take over. Letting my breath out when the man walks past me without a second glance, I run my hand down my face, wishing I wasn’t so paranoid. I duck my head, as I make my way through the throng of people, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. If I could be invisible, I would be. Briskly walking out of the arrival zone, I think about how much farther I have to go, before I’m back home in Columbus, Mississippi. I’m exhausted and running on fumes more than anything. I continue to ignore the busy people around me, as I slip inside the bathroom outside the bus station to find a somewhat clean, empty stall. I shut the door behind me, only letting myself glance over the surroundings. It smells awful in here, as if someone puked for days and didn’t bother to clean it up. It’s dirty. It’s disgusting but for now, I’m safe.

I need to feel safe again.

I don’t dare set my bag down on the nasty floor. Instead, I unroll some toilet paper and cover the lid of the commode with layers of it. I sit Indian style, putting my bag in my lap. Taking a deep breath, I will myself to relax. I don’t know how I managed to get this far away from him, or how he hasn’t found me yet. I’m sure my mother would be more than happy to tell him exactly where I’m headed, and the thought makes a lump form in my throat.

Easton Carrington. My lying, cheating, asshole of an ex-husband.

I shiver, just thinking about his name. Divorcing Easton, then leaving when I had, was the best decision I’d ever made. Although I’m afraid he’ll come back for me, at least I’m free of him. Glancing down at my ring finger, I swallow hard seeing the faint tan line. I’d been married for seven years, and now, I’m … free. It’s surreal, a bit terrifying, but I’m determined to move forward. I can’t remember my time with Easton. Shaking my head, I clutch my half-moon and compass necklace, not wanting to think about him. Glancing down at it, I’m reminded of how much it means to me. Even after all these years, I’ve never lost it or taken it off. It’s a simple thing: a small compass surrounded by a half moon with the words, ‘no matter where’ on it. Holding it tightly in my hand, I close my eyes realizing I’m starting over. Granted my situation isn’t ideal, but at least I’m free of him. I push back the memories of how I got my keepsake, letting go of it. Opening my bag, I start rummaging through it until I find my bus ticket. I look at it, making sure all the information is correct. I’m in Atlanta, Georgia now, and in twelve hours I’ll be back in my hometown. I sigh, not really acknowledging how I feel about going home for the first time in thirteen years. It’s not something I’ve thought about in a very long time. I never thought I’d be going back to the place that holds so many good and bad memories. Or who I know I’ll see once I get there.

Carter Harlow.

Years apart, and that one boy, well man now, is still able to make my heart race when I think of him and our past together. I know I promised myself I’d never return home but, I have nowhere else to go. Seeing Carter again outweighs the risk of being in Charleston, and I’ll just have to deal with the repercussions later. I shake my head to keep the memories from overtaking me. I put my ticket safely back in my bag and pull out my wallet. I sigh, knowing my funds are low. The bus ticket wasn’t very expensive, but then again, I didn’t have much when I left South Carolina anyway. I only took enough so Easton wouldn’t notice. I don’t dwell on the fact that he made me resort to stealing, but then again, I only took what he owed me for all he’s done. I wanted to take it all, just to show him how it feels to be outsmarted and deceived, but I couldn’t do that no matter how much I wanted to. I’m a better person than I thought I was. Pulling out my money, I meticulously count each dollar and coin. Even digging to the bottom of my bag, making sure I don’t miss anything. I huff out loud, seeing I only have one hundred and sixteen dollars and forty-seven cents left. It’s going to be tight, but I have to make it on my low funds. I don’t have a choice at this point. I refuse to go back to South Carolina and to that life. I’ve been in worse situations before, mainly as a child, but at least back then, I had friends to help me when I was in a bind. That makes me think of Annie and William Barrett. They practically raised me when my Mom wasn’t around. They impacted my life and took care of me, showing me what a real family is like, and how people can really love one another. Now, it’s just me. I’m alone again since the age of five, and I realize I don’t like it. I won’t give up though. I’ve come this far, and there’s no going back.

Placing my wallet back inside my bag, I quickly zip it, not wanting to see the scrapbook of my times from back home. It’s another keepsake, the one thing that I couldn’t leave behind, besides my necklace. I lean back against the toilet, thinking I can do this. I tell myself this is just a bump in the road. It’s just an obstacle in the way. This dirty bathroom isn’t the first disgusting place I’ve had to stay in for a few hours. It’s not the first time I had to hide in a public place because I didn’t have the money for a hotel room. I’m just happy this bathroom is warm, and I don’t have to look over my shoulder every minute of every day since my hell began. That’s what I compare my marriage to anyway. Don’t get me wrong. In the beginning, it was perfect, or as perfect as it could be. I don’t exactly know when things turned from great to shit. I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming, or I would’ve prepared better. I would’ve stood up to him and left sooner, rather than later. I wouldn’t have lost everything to Easton in the divorce. I wouldn’t have regretted marrying him. So many regrets and pain. It’s more than any thirty-two year old woman should have to endure.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I cringe and my entire body tenses. The heavy door creaks loudly, and I see a woman’s shoes from under my stall. The door beside my stall squeaks as it closes, and I barely breathe until she’s finished emptying her bladder. It seems like forever until she’s done, leaving as loudly as she came. I exhale slowly, telling myself I’m being paranoid again. There’s no way Easton knows I’m here. “Come on, Shelby. Get your fucking head straight.”

I shake my head, hating how my thoughts always go back to him. I have to learn not to think this way anymore. I’m alone again, and it’s time I get used to it.

Two hours later, I get ready to board the last bus until I’m back home. I still keep my head down as I make my way to the bus. I pull my jacket tighter around me since the January air feels as though it’s chilling me to my bones. Burying my hands in my jacket pockets as I wait my turn to get on the bus, I quickly scan around the area, trying to spot anyone familiar. I keep reminding myself that no one knows I left. Once I knew my closest friends betrayed me, I made sure to leave inconspicuously. The only one I’m worried about is my mother. When she realizes I’m no longer there, she’ll know where I went. I can only hope, for once in her life, she’ll decide to leave me alone.

A woman behind me clearing her throat startles me, letting me know to board the bus. I relax slightly and glance away from her, shifting my bag over my shoulder as I walk up the steps. Handing the bus driver my ticket, I refuse to make any eye contact with him, and look for a seat in the back. I want to be away from prying eyes. Away from everyone. I don’t make eye contact with a single person already seated. I stare straight ahead, my eyes on the open seat two rows from the back. I sit down, immediately placing my bag beside me. I don’t want anyone sitting next to me, but my hand rests on the bag just in case someone tries to take it. Once we’re on the road, I’ll count my items again. It’s becoming more of an OCD habit to check on my things. Maybe it’s because I know this bag is all I have now. The thought is depressing. I’ve never been attached to materialistic things, but change is never easy. It’s hard and sometimes complicated, but I’m determined to push through the rough patches. I’m ready to start over with a new life, and forget my past.