Pulled Within (40 page)

I laughed again, sticking my spoon into the creamy mound. “On our way out, if you were home, he used to go through your car and steal all the change from your ashtray so he could afford the large instead of the medium cup.”

Her eyes gleamed as much as her smile. “So that’s where it all
went.”

I glanced at Hart, watching him try to work through the bite in his mouth. “An extra scoop of gummy bears was fifty cents more, and he never had enough so Hart used to pay for that.”

Hart smiled at the memory. “And after ice cream, he always wanted to go to the pub,” he said. “That gave us a chance to eat something substantial. Fries with ranch—that was all he ever ordered.”

“He put ranch on everything,” Mom said.

“And was skinny as a bean pole anyway,” Shane said. “Didn’t matter how much crap that kid ate, he never gained an ounce.”

“That’s because he played so much ball,” Brady said. “Every time I was at your house, he asked if I’d play toss with him. That kid was so much better at baseball than me. Didn’t matter to him, though. He just wanted to play and hang.” Brady’s smile fell. “I miss that kid.”

“Me, too,” I whispered.

“We all do,” Mom said.

“He was a good egg,” Shane added.

“A ‘good egg,’ Dad?” Brady asked. “Really?”

We all laughed.

“Yeah. A good egg, and a good kid.” Shane’s eyes glistened. “A
good brother, and a good son.”

As a mist of silence passed over the table, I felt my phone vibrate from my pocket. A text message from Christy filled the screen. Last I’d heard from her, she’d broken up with pink streaks—who’d
turned out to be quite the jealous type—and was moving back to Maine.

Christy:
I’m in town again, girl. Wanna meet for drinks?

Me:
I do! How about tomorrow? I’m tied up today.

Christy:
Whoa! Rope or handcuffs? Suddenly, I like Hart even more
than before…

Me:
Ha! Neither. :) I’ll text you in the morning. Let’s plan for some
shopping. I need more of your bras.

Christy:
A day all about tits. Sounds perfect to me ;)

It was good to see her silliness again. I was glad she was back.

My eyes met Brady’s as soon as I looked up from my phone. With every day that passed, he appeared stronger and healthier.
He’d taken
me up on my offer and had used my savings to pay off the dealers,
but
he insisted on making payments to me every month. He was still
camped
out with Shane, working with him on the spa up in Bangor and
learning
how to live again—sober this time. And he wasn’t looking back, which meant he had new friends, new hobbies, and weekly NA
meetings.

I was so happy to watch him as he moved toward his new future.

His bond with Shane was more solid than ever, and the one he
had with me was just about perfect. We were even closer now.

Brady wasn’t the only one who’d changed.

Since Darren’s birthday—and the news in February of Gerald passing
away—my mom and I had really started to work on our relationship. Hart
and I were working at the Bangor spa too, which
meant I wasn’t able to see her as much as I’d like. But I called her on my way back to Bar Harbor most nights, and we chatted the whole commute. And at least once a month, Hart and I went home for dinner.

Home
.

That was what her house was becoming again. Every time I returned, I started to feel more comfortable. As a rule, Darren’s door
remained
closed until I opened it, which I did on a regular basis. Maybe one
day, we’d both be at a place where it could always remain open.

My mom’s house wasn’t the only place I now called home. I hadn’t yet purchased a place of my own, and I was in no rush to. Therefore, Hart’s house had become
our
home. We’d be moving to
Portland once
the Bangor spa was finished, and we’d agreed on going to Boston after that, so buying a place had lost some of its significance. I had
finally realized I’d had a home all along. It was with Hart and my family.

“Dinner is at eight tomorrow night,” Hart whispered.

My eyes fixed on his stormy gaze. “I thought your mom said seven?”

He winced. “She changed her mind at the last minute…is that okay?”

I rolled my eyes, but nodded as he texted his reply. The woman
hadn’t fully softened to the idea of her son and me, though she had
stopped putting me down and now called me by the right name
instead
of the slew of others she had used. And she no longer burst into the house whenever she pleased, mostly because we’d changed the locks. Hart assured me things would get better between the two of
us. I didn’t
need his assurance; I could feel her walls breaking a little more each
time I was with her.

Mine were, too.

I sat by the window, letting the sun touch my skin, allowing it to illuminate my scar. I didn’t cringe or cower or worry about what anyone thought of it. That didn’t concern me anymore. Instead, I watched the people I loved celebrate the one we’d lost, the one
whose presence had
filled me, and whose absence had nearly destroyed me but had
ultimately pulled me back together. I realized then that my scar didn’t compare to my strength. And because of it, happiness had found its way back.

I was finally ready for it.

Samantha March, Steven Luna, Shari Ryan, and Jennifer Gilbert, I’m so fortunate to have you all on my team and to be surrounded by talent that is as rich and stunning as yours. I cherish your advice and wisdom and each of our friendships. Heather Ludviksson, Katherine Sears, Ken Shear, as always, thanks for giving me the opportunity. I’m ever so grateful.

Jesse Freeman, Tess Thompson, Steven Luna, Shari Ryan and
Allie
Burke, you’re my family, my inspiration, my virtual tissues. You
make every day better and I love you all so much.

TeriLyn Smitsky, Melissa Mann, Michele Esterkes, David
Bohmiller,
thanks for being my rock. Your unconditional support and love
means everything to me.

Brian, Codi, Bella, and my parents, I’m reminded each day how lucky I am to have you. Not just within reach or a phone call away,
but
as muses and role models and as my family. I couldn’t do this
without you. Love, love, love.

Bloggers, I can’t thank you enough for all that you do for me. So many of you have been with me since the beginning, sharing in this wild journey, and supporting me in every way you can. I wish I could hug each of you. Just know that I love and adore you all and I
appreciate you so much.

And lastly, my readers, you’re truly amazing. You force me out of bed, you send me running to my computer, you make me smile when I least expect it. I’m honored and humbled and most often speechless by your compliments. Thanks for loving my words. Thanks for demanding more. Thanks for accepting me.

Pulled Beneath

Memoirs Aren't Fairytales

Scars from a Memoir

Seductive Shadows

Seductive Secrecy

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