Page 3 of The One Who Got Away

With Mom’s arms around me, her scent a mixture of sweet pea body splash, fresh baked cookies, and just...her...I couldn’t help but melt. The tears I promised myself I wouldn’t cry streamed down my cheeks. “Mom...I...I’m sorry-”

“Sorry?” She reared back, but her hands still cradled my face. “Sorry for what?”

That just made me cry harder, my words drowning in regret. “Because I left. I let it keep me away.” I hated that it was still ‘it.’ That even now, over five years later, I still couldn’t say the words out loud.

In a blink of an eye, I went from the luckiest woman, a future with Lincoln Carraway stretching before me, to a jilted bride. The love of my life left me at the altar, and I left too. I hadn’t been home since my wedding day. Mom, Dad, Josie, even my brother, Rob, had come to visit me in Nebraska. Somehow, by some miracle, they never judged or cajoled me into coming home.

Now that I was back, with all the history, good times and bad, swirling all around me, I couldn’t help it. So even though I saw love and happiness shining in Mom’s eyes, I apologized again.

“Mom, I’m so sorry it took me so long.” I swallowed the boulder that was lodged in my throat and swept my blonde hair from my eyes so she could see that I meant it. “Really.”

She cupped my cheek. “No more apologizing. You came home when you were meant to, ya hear?”

And with that, she tugged me inside, like there was nothing to be forgiven at all.

One step onto the worn carpet and I could guess what was on the menu. That crisp, heavy bite in the air? That was her famous fried chicken. The faint hint of garlic making my mouth water? The best greens ever, hands down. The family portraits that covered nearly every inch of the walls, mantle, coffee table, and every surface in the living room was as warm and inviting as my favorite dish.

“Oh my God, you made cornbread?” I gushed with stars in my eyes, almost following the scent blindly, already tasting the crumbly goodness.

“I have dibs!” Josie’s loud, brash voice cut through my slow-mo fantasy.

Mom glanced over at me warily. “As if she needs any introduction.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I should be saying, ‘Catherine’s here!’ ‘Josie’s here!’ seems more appropriate.” When Josie peeked around the corner, her big smile hitting me right in the chest, Mom added, “Jillian and Mikey are here, too.”

That was for my sister’s benefit, and I imagined her two little ones were napping somewhere nearby. Josie’s eyes widened and she mouthed a silent apology.

Josie skipped into the main room. So much personality was packed in her lean frame as she gave my mother a look I was all too familiar with. It was the same look she had when she would steal a bite of some cooling pie Mom had prepared for dessert. Or when she came home after curfew. Or when she announced that she was pregnant with Jillian and marrying Anthony. She was just Josephine. And as much crap as we gave her, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

“The whole lack of volume control thing, that’s on you and Dad, Mom.” Josie shrugged her shoulders when she saddled up next to us. “Genes.”

“It’s always the parents’ fault, eh? You should have been a therapist,” Mom joked, stepping aside so Josie could throw her arms around me.

Josie smelled like baby powder...and the cornbread I was salivating over. “Catherine! How long has it been?” I knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t pause long enough for me to do the math. “Too long, that’s how long!” She put both hands on my shoulders and peered at me so closely that my face matched her crimson-colored sweater. “You look tired.” She continued her inspection, lifting one of my greasy, dirty blonde strands. “I guess I should be happy that you got rid of that awful jet black thing you had going on the last time I saw you, but Jesus, Cat. It looks like you haven’t washed your hair in weeks!”

She was right. The black dye job was a bad idea and my hair was overdue for a proper wash, but I didn’t say so.

“And you’re still doing that awful all black thing-”

“Josephine, don’t start in on your sister,” Mom scolded on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, she knows I’m just concerned,” Josie waved off the interruption. “Don’t you, Catty?”

Catty. She only called me that when she wanted something. I darted away from her, all the warm, fuzzy Hallmark flutters in my chest blinking right out of existence. “What is it, Josie?”

“What is it?” She brought a hand to her chest like she was offended by me cutting through the red tape and getting to the point. “I’m just getting reacquainted with my long lost sister.”

“Uh huh.” I trudged over to the couch and plopped down with a sigh. Considering I’d been on the road for hours, sitting should have been akin to walking across hot coals barefoot. Instead, I relaxed into the lumpy couch, nuzzled into its lived-in contours, inhaled the familiarity, and braced myself for the attack.

“So, you’re moving back to NC? You have a job offer in Raleigh, right?” Even though she’d crossed the room to where I sat and her expression was confidential with her golden brows arched, her voice carried. She couldn’t help it. “You know he lives in Raleigh now, right?”

My heart did a back flip.

He.

Lincoln.

I fought the urge to make a face, and/or bite her head off. Of course I knew my ex lived in Raleigh. It was the only reason I hadn’t accepted the job offer over the phone. I told myself if I could go home, then breeze into Raleigh and not react to the mention of him, signs of him, and the very real chance that we’d run into each other, then fate was telling me to take this new job and run with it.

I plucked a pillow from the nook of the couch and used it as a shield. “Yes.”

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