Page 61 of Love Fast

A guy I recognize from reception takes the seat Patricia was indicating.

“Thanks,” I mouth. “I’m okay.” Honestly, I’m happy to have a few minutes to myself. I’m used to carving out space in noise and chaos and taking some downtime. Hell, that’s been my life for a long time. We lived on top of each other in the trailer. I would have been driven mad if I hadn’t been able to find a way to create some peace for myself along the way.

I stab at my goat cheese salad when my phone buzzes with the arrival of a text. I know it’s not going to be Byron. He’s so focused on a thousand things when he’s at work, and on top of that he’s got his friends here. That doesn’t stop my heart lifting in my chest at the thought that I might get a message from him. I hold my breath as I pull the phone out of my pocket to check.

My stomach lurches at my youngest sister’s name on my phone.

Shit.

It’s been a couple of weeks since the wedding—since I got on a plane in a white gown and Lydia’s gray hoodie. I’ve been able to block out what’s going on in Oregon for the most part. I’ve been focused on Star Falls: my new job, the storm, Byron. Anything but what I’ve left behind.

After I’ve swallowed my mouthful of salad, I swipe open the message.

I miss you. Mom says we can’t contact you. Don’t tell her I’m messaging you.

I have to fight the urge to call my sister immediately. I don’t want to get Marion into trouble. If someone sees my name flashing up on her screen, it will probably cause a huge argument.

It makes more sense now why I haven’t heard anything from my mom or any of my sisters. Mom has decreed the punishment of silence—an old favorite of hers, probably because it normally works. Before I ran away, being cast out of our family would have been my idea of torture. I went along with things that made Mom happy because I didn’t want to upset the family dynamic—didn’t want to lose her good grace, or my only place in the world.

The difference between when I’ve previously been given Mom’s silent treatment and now is distance, and the little bit of history I’ve carved out over the last few weeks that doesn’t involve her. Memories and experiences where she’s not the center of things.

Maybe it was the understanding that doing what my mom wanted was going to cost me any kind of control over my future that’s allowed me to hold my nerve and stay here. Mom played her hand, dished out my punishment, but it didn’t work this time. The stakes were too high.

I type out a text.

I miss you too, Marion.

I do miss her. But I don’t miss being responsible for her. For our entire family. I feel lighter here in Star Falls, with nothing but possibility in my future. I don’t know how I stuck it out in Oregon as long as I did. Looking back, I don’t understand how as a twenty-eight-year-old woman, I still felt I had to do everything my mother said.

Another text appears almost immediately.

You’re so lucky you escaped.

My heart clenches in hope and pity.

I am lucky. I’m lucky I found Polly Gifford outside the hotel, and even luckier that she was heading to the airport. As I watched myself in the mirror the morning of my wedding, I knew I didn’t want to get married, but I didn’t see a way out. Not until Polly offered me a ride. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d still be in Oregon, either begging forgiveness from my mother or married to Frank. Neither one was a future I wanted.

What happened?

Marion must have hit call right away, as her name flashes up on my phone.

I tuck the cell between my cheek and shoulder and scoop up my salad before heading out for some privacy.

“Hey,” I answer, as I make my way along the corridor to one of the back exits.

“I miss you so much,” she repeats. “Mom’s been a complete monster since you left.”

A dull ache radiates from my stomach. I can only imagine how difficult it’s been.

“I just want to move out, but you know what she’s like.”

“Yup,” I say. She would make us feel so guilty if we even thought about leaving. She seemed to have a sixth sense when any of us were fantasizing about life beyond the trailer. “Could you and Kitty find a place to share together?” I know as I say it, it will feel impossible to Marion. When you’re in it, under Mom’s watchful eye, it’s like being a prisoner. And because we had no experience of our own to compare it to, we accepted it as normal.

I press the exit button and hit the fresh, cold Colorado air. The sky’s blue and the sun’s shining. I don’t know what it is, but the blue sky makes everything feel a little bit more hopeful. I step out onto the gravel that surrounds the main building and lean against the pine shiplap.

She sighs. “I made the mistake of suggesting that to Kitty. She went and told Mom on me.”

Mom used to encourage us to tell on each other, even when we were little. We could win her favor by complaining that someone had smashed a glass or wasted some of the new shampoo. Looking back, it was like a constant war; we were either on Mom’s side against each other, or we were on defense, fighting our way back into her camp.

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