Page 1 of Where Love Lies

1

The sun’s rays brush yellow hues across the naked sky as I drive away from the city of Charlotte, South Carolina. My entire childhood in the rearview mirror. Windows down, a warm, earthy breeze fills the car, causing an open cardboard box in the back to flap with the wind. With both hands on the wheel, my seat way too far up because I’m short and can’t reach the pedals, I adjust my round sunglasses, focusing on the road.

My thirteen-year-old daughter, Paige, shuffles in the passenger seat, huffs then places her scuffed Converse on the dash, a smiley face on the tip, from a permanent marker, beaming at us. Her brown eyes stare out the window, her jaw pulled tight in irritation.

“Babe, you can stay in touch with your friends.”

“It’s not the same,” she says with an exhale, rolling her eyes. I can’t help but notice how much she looks like her dad right now.

“You excited for a bigger room?” I try to make conversation, hoping if we focus on something exciting, it will distract her from all the things that aren’t. Sighing, she drops her phone in her lap.

“I don’t know. Everything seems wrong without Grandma.” She squints up at me, her usually bright eyes bathed in grief. Moving to the suburbs placed forty miles out of town without my mom feels unnatural. She should be here. It was her dream for all of us to move to the suburbs because she couldn’t give me that life when I was a child. We wouldn’t even be moving now if it weren’t for the inheritance she left behind. I have a feeling I would appreciate it a lot more as an adult anyways. Licking my lips, I try to ignore the pressing loneliness that freezes time now that she’s gone. It’s been two weeks since she died but it feels like it’s been three months.

Squealing tires peal behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering echoes around me. My body stiffens seconds before I’m thrust forward then snapped back against my seat from the seat belt catching. The quick tug makes my chest tighten and my body instantly ache. A loud whoosh of dust fills the car as the airbag deploys, punching me in the left side of the face. Our SUV careens to the side of the road before coming to an abrupt stop on the edge of the shoulder of the highway. Smoke plumes around the car, and I can’t help but cough. I bat at the airbag, adrenaline flowing through my body as I reach into the passenger seat for my daughter.

“Paige! Paige! Are you okay?” My hand swipes nothing but air.

Debris starts to settle, and I finally see her through the fog. She has one hand on the roof, one on the console between us, her body resting against the door. Thank god she had her seat belt on. She could have slammed into the dashboard or thrown from the car cracking her skull open. Her chest heaves as she looks around, her face pale from shock.

“Oh my God, Paige! Are you okay?” I grasp her by the cheeks, looking into her wide, scared eyes. Turning her head to look for injuries, I find a small cut on her cheek.

“Shit,” I whisper, inspecting it closely. It’s pretty deep for how small it is. I slide my hands down her arms to her hands, searching for other cuts. She seems to be fine other than her trembling state and labored breathing.

“What the hell!” she finally screams, spittle spewing from her bottom lip. There’s that mouth. She’s fine. Pulling her to me, I slowly release a breath, thanking God that she’s okay. I start feeling the pain from the wreck. Suddenly, I feel the tight pull in the nape of my neck and the strain in my chest. My head throbs. I think I might puke from the anxiety racing through me like a drug. If I’m this bad I can’t imagine what pain Paige is in.

“We should call an ambulance to get you checked out for internal injuries, babe.”

“No! How embarrassing! I’m fine.” She smacks my hands away, forcing me to back away. Her eyes fill with tears and body shaking she looks around the car. The first thing I notice is that damn cut; it looks bad. Blood spills from the wound, the magenta and plum hues from inflammation making her cheek look like a starfruit. She needs to be seen, regardless of what she wants.

Pressing her hand to her face, she applies pressure to the wound and kicks the airbag away from her. “I’m fine, Mom, really.”

Looking over my shoulder, I see traffic has stopped from the wreck.

“I should go check on the people that hit us.”

“Yeah, go. I’ll stay here,” she says on an exhale, resting her head on the headrest.

I nod. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be right back.”

My hand slides along the driver door, reaching for the handle and opening it. I instantly fall out of the car, my legs not working properly. My eyes scan for who hit us, and I spot a blue SUV with a dented front end, sitting about fifteen feet away, with smoke billowing around the hood and filling the air. It looks like their airbags didn’t deploy; I should make sure they’re okay. Forcing myself to walk I head toward the vehicle, the driver door swings open and a man steps out groaning. He seems calm compared to myself. His head snaps up, looking for who he hit, and our eyes lock. Bright as sky blue eyes infiltrate my own. He has sharp cheek bones with full lips and short ash brunette curls. His broad shoulders stretch, working out the knots. Despite the dirt and grime from the accident, he’s nothing short of the actor Ryan Phillippe.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t see you.” Sincerity wraps around his apology, his soothing voice like still water on a summer evening. Knowing he’s fine, I look back to my car; it’s definitely in worse shape than his. How are we supposed to move without a working vehicle?

Placing my hand on my forehead, I try to push through the anguish and despair and remain strong. I’m okay and Paige is going to be fine, that’s all that matters.

Forcing myself to think positive thoughts, I bite my bottom lip and take another glance at my car, the same one I’ve had since I was eighteen. “It’s definitely totaled,” I mutter, my words quivering with emotion. Stepping closer to it, I look through the back window. One side is broken and the other has spidering-like veins cracking throughout it. Some cardboard boxes are smashed against each other, but thankfully, all the breakables are with the movers.

“I can pay for the damages. I’m so sorry,” the guy says from behind me, his tone a bit too upbeat, considering the situation. Looking over my shoulder at him with a deadpan expression, he tilts his head into his shrug. I hate how calm he is. Why isn’t he even a little bit startled? Affected?

“Are you serious? Your insurance will cover it because it wasn’t my fault!” I spat, my tone as sharp as a blade. “And what do you mean, you didn’t see me? You had to be speeding around that corner to slam into me!” I’m talking with my hands at this point, waving them around for effect, which is what I do when I’m really upset.

Crossing one arm over his chest, with his elbow resting on his other arm, he holds his chin with his hand.

“Or, maybe you were driving too slow?” Dropping his arms, he grins as if his poking fun is cute. Now gone with the apologetic attitude his true colors coming to the shitshow.

My mouth drops, anger fuming inside me. Is he messing with me?

“You hurt my daughter, how can you stand there and act like this is my fault.” Lines crease among my forehead as I scream at the asshole.

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