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Mom propped against the door for balance, dunking her feet into snow boots. “Shall I bring you some leftovers?”
“If they don’t come with a side of prejudice against Row,” I murmured, typing my life away.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, Mom. No leftovers needed. I want to keep it light for the 10K run tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes.” She spooned her cheek with her palm, grinning proudly. “I wish your dad could see you.”
“Don’t jinx it, Mom.”
“You’ll crush it. You’ve been practicing for weeks. Rain or shine.”
She was right. But my issue wasn’t the physical challenge. It was all about how I was going to handle it mentally.
As the front door clicked shut, I perched back on the armrest of the couch and blew out a breath, flipping the laptop shut.
I was going to come face-to-face with Allison tomorrow, really see her for the first time since I’d returned to Staindrop, and she’d be able to see me, talk to me, taunt me. Row was right. Even now, after all these years, I still let her get to me so much, I doubted my ability to complete the run. Worse than that, I think that in a way, Allison had messed me up much more than Franco did. Because Franco was firmly in my past. Allison was now a part of my present, too. She never did get her punishment. Karma didn’t find her address.
My tab with Allison Murray was forever open.
She had tried to kill me.
Had possibly sent people to stab the man I loved.
Had an affair with my best friend’s fiancé.
To top all of that off, even though it wasn’t her fault Franco had done what he did to me, she had sure had a ton of fun telling me my pictures were on porn sites.
Allison Murray had tarnished every beautiful thing in my life and was going to destroy whatever was left of it if I let her. I wasn’t sure why Row let her push him around like this, but suddenly, urgency speared my spine to get up and do something. I couldn’t let her get away with everything she’d done. In my time away from Staindrop, Allison had obviously continued running people over on her way to the top.
A floodgate had opened: all the digs she’d thrown my way over the years that had made me doubt myself. Doubt my worth.
“No one will ever want you. You look like a broken flashlight.”
“You smell so bad. Why can’t you eat normal food, weirdo?”
“You little whore. Are those pictures Franco uploaded of you still on porn sites? The internet never forgets. Anyone who ever comes onto you will do it because they know you put out.”
My fingers trembled, and I bit down on my lip to suppress a scream. No. I wasn’t going to wait until I saw her tomorrow morning. Find out what she had planned for me. Let her control the narrative. I realized suddenly that I was the person I’d been waiting for. The heroine of my own book.
It was time to take control.
Time to stand up for myself.
And for everyone I loved.
CAL
“The River of Dreams”—Billy Joel
The Murrays lived in a beautiful, white, shingled, oceanside mansion. The type of estate that curved around an eight-car limestone drive, with a fountain centerpiece and two Range Rovers parked up front.
Christmas lights wrapped around the edges of the roof and the pillars on either side of the front door. I braced myself against one of the columns, numbness blooming across my exposed skin. I had walked all five miles here. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel cold or uncomfortable. Fueled by the burning fire of revenge and hate, I’d plowed through.
Golden chandelier lights spilled from the front windows, and the sounds of clinking utensils and laughter rang through the air. Was I really going to crash this family’s holiday dinner? Seemed that way. Even stranger was the fact I didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment about it.
I pressed the doorbell and stepped back, willing my teeth to stop chattering. I’d spent the entire journey here thinking about what witty one-liner I was going to spew once Allison appeared in front of me.
