Page 2 of Reckless Abandon
Eight.
Seven.
I breathe in through my nose, inhaling the crisp, fall scent of the land and earth around me. The fragrance of my childhood.
Come on you coward, just do it already.
Everyone will be better off without me.
Six.
Five.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
The small, excited voice of my son, Taylor, reverberates off the water, as I hear him calling me from the top of the hill close to the house I grew up in.
Shit. He was supposed to be gone with my mother in town. I was supposed to be alone.
Dropping the gun to my lap, I quickly snap on the safety and slide it in the holster between my thighs. Turning to look over my shoulder behind me, I place a smile on my face, reserved solely for my son. Shielding my eyes from the direct sun to see the shadowed and silhouetted body of Taylor running down toward the lake dock.
Fuck, what if he would’ve found me?
A sick feeling of despair rumbles inside my stomach, retching to climb out. He wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m a selfish prick. What was I thinking?
Taylor flies toward me, his five-year-old spindly legs leaping in gigantic strides and arms flailing in all directions from his sides. He looks like a crazed octopus from one of those cartoons.
Standing and sliding the gun into my back pocket, I stretch my arms out wide and welcome him home.
“Hey buddy. You’re home. What are you doing back so soon?”
He slams into my body and I pick him up, swinging him around in the airplane toss he practically lives for. His joyful giggle worms into my heart and eats away at my guilt.
“Hi Daddy! We came home ‘cause Nana brought someone to see you.”
I’m sure confusion is etched across my face. Our trip home was an unexpected visit and I can’t imagine anyone knows I’m here or would stop over to see me. I don’t have any friends left in this town anymore and the ones I once had…well, I burned those bridges a long time ago.
“Who is it, buddy? One of Nana’s friends?” I inquire, thinking maybe it’s Helen or Marjorie, my mother’s church friends.
Taylor shrugs his bony little shoulders at me, wiggling from my grasp and jumping out of my arms and onto the wooden dock. He runs toward the edge of the platform and I have to grab his wrist and pull him back with a hard yank to keep him from barreling into the water.
My son is fearless. Like I was at that age.
But that trait is long gone for me.
Taylor grins widely, crinkling his nose up and laughs.
“I don’t know,” he giggles, running back in the other direction. “Some lady named London.”
My legs nearly buckle from the weight of that name. In fact, I have to sit back down on the dock to keep from falling over.
London.
Chapter 2
Ten Years Earlier
My first reaction upon hearing the news that blared from our texts and messaging apps was how to comfort London.
