I just knew what I wasn’t going to do.
I wasn’t going to find her.
“Well?”
“Uh...” I drew in a breath and rattled off my address, though I had no idea what to expect once I actually reached it. No one in my family had come to visit me or contact me in any way, not once in seventy-two months. They probably had no idea I was out.
My mom would be happy to see me, I was eighty percent certain of that. My dad would pitch a shit fit and most likely slap me around a little, then either put me to work or tell me to get lost. My brothers and sister...hell, most of them probably wouldn’t even recognize me.
But I didn’t recognize myself, so they wouldn’t be alone.
As we approached the city, I stared out the window, identifying some landmarks, while other landmarks...not so much. Even the things I did remember looked different. Felt different. I tensed when I realized what was coming next.
The Bainbridge estate. A long drive lined with trees that ended at a stone-set circle drive and introduced the snowy white mansion of Abbott Maxwell Bainbridge.
When the tree line broke away, there sat his property, as proud and pretentious as ever. I sucked in a breath, not expecting the flood of longing, regret, heartache.
It tore through me, shredding open my chest and slashing into my guts. The breath-stealing sensation lingered as his house just as abruptly disappeared and more trees sprang up.
My trees.
I clenched my hands around my knees and closed my eyes, ignoring the ache in my chest. My heart banged against each memory like a battering ram, bruising every tender image that flashed through my mind.
If only...
No. There were no what ifs. No should haves. No if onlys. This was life and how it had happened. I had to let go of the past and continue from here. Without her.
The taxicab began to slow. I scraped my top teeth over my bottom lip to combat the nerves. I actually ached to see my mother, all my siblings, even our stupid worn-down shack of a home. I couldn’t wait to—
The car pulled into a drive.
I blinked.
“What’s this?” I said, pointing out the window, sounding accusative, feeling accusative, as I scowled at the driver.
But my home, the place where I’d lived for the first eighteen years of my life, was...it was gone. A convenience store gas station sat in its place.
“It’s your stop.” The cabbie put the car into park and glanced back at me nervously.
I stared at him with a slight frown before turning back to gape out the window. “But...”
This was the right location, it had to be. My woods were right there, we’d just passed the Bainbridge place, there was nowhere else the house could be. “There should be a small faded blue cottage here.” With half a dozen broken cars in the yard that had grass and small trees growing up through their engines, along with a haphazard metal fence to keep in our hound dog, Tidbits.
The cabbie sent me an odd look. “How long you been locked up, kid?”
Stupefied, I glanced back at the gas station.
“Too long,” I murmured, my shoulders falling as my hope deflated.
“Look, you can’t sit here all day,” He shifted in his seat, probably uncomfortable and beyond ready to get the ex-con out of his car. “This is the address you gave me.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Fine. I’d get out here.
I tugged open the handle and stepped from the cab. It took off as soon as I shut the door.
Lost, I stared at the store in front of me in confusion. I could see people inside, waiting in line to purchase soft drinks and cigarettes. Three cars sat in the lanes, pumping gas. It was so normal it felt dizzyingly surreal.
But what was I supposed to do now?
I scanned the outer wall for a pay phone, but didn’t spot one, even though I had no idea who I would’ve called if I had. Maybe I’d find a sign, some kind of direction, a purpose, inside. I stepped forward to investigate, except behind me, I heard an approaching automobile. Wondering if I’d left something in the cab, I glanced back and nearly pissed myself as a front bumper rushed toward me.
“Shit!” I leapt to the side as a silver Lexus veered around me and headed too fast toward the store. For a horrified moment, I thought it was going to jump the curb and crash into the side of the building, but it screeched to a stop at the last second.
Idiot driver.
Leaping onto the sidewalk so no other automobile would feel inclined to play chicken with me, I squinted and tipped my head to look through the windshield.
Just what kind of rich prick thought I was so pancake worthy?
I totally wasn’t expecting to see a youngish woman with her eyes squeezed closed and tears coursing down her cheeks.
