Page 135 of Bitter Rival

“No problem,” Callie says, opening the trunk. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I force a smile and zip up my hoodie to ward off the chill in the air. How appropriate that the skies are gray with the threat of rain on the horizon. “I’m fine.”

She gives me a skeptical look, but I grab my suitcase and set it on the sidewalk before she can question me further.

“Make sure to text me,” she says, coming to stand in front of me. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Blinking back my tears, I give her a hug and we squeeze each other tight.

“And if you want to talk, I’m only a phone call away.”

With another tight smile, the best I can muster, I snap up the handle of my roller bag and walk through the doors of the San Francisco airport with a heavy heart and unshed tears threatening to fall.

I guess I should have known how this would end. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Beckett would lure my mother here. Or that he would stop at nothing until he got revenge.

How foolish to believe he cared about me enough to be honest and treat me with respect.

I guess I was hoping for too much. My tragic flaw.

As I go through airport security and weave through the crowds to reach my gate, panic grips me and I break out in a cold sweat.

The airport is too crowded. Too warm. Too claustrophobic.

Little dots form before my eyes and a fear claws its way up my throat, forming a lump that I can’t swallow past.

I don’t know why this is happening. I’ve taken hundreds of flights and have never once had an anxiety attack over it.

But seeing my mother again reopened an old wound and now all my old fears and insecurities rise to the surface.

I check the board for my gate and all the numbers and letters jumble together.

Deep breaths, Daisy. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

I locate my gate number and curse as I turn and run in the opposite direction with my heart beating in my throat.

When I was a kid, I was always so scared my mother would leave me behind.

As long as I did as she said and played her little games, things were fine. But as soon as I pushed back or questioned her or demanded answers, she’d say, Stop pestering me, Daisy, or I’ll leave you on the side of the road.

As if I were a stray cat she took in.

A few times she even stopped the car and shoved the passenger door open. Get out and walk. You’re driving me insane.

She always made sure I knew that it was an accidental pregnancy and that I was a ‘mistake.’ You owe me, Daisy. If it had been up to your father, you wouldn’t even be here.

As if it was my fault she got knocked up. Never in the history of time has a child ever asked to be born.

Whenever I tried to get some affection, she’d say, Stop being so clingy. You need to learn how to stand on your own two feet.

Survival is a talent, Daisy.

And boy, am I ever talented.

I can stand on my own two feet, not because my mother taught me how to, but because I learned how to survive without her.

I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle everything on my own, with no help from anyone, just like I’ve been doing for years.

Panting, I drop into my seat and fasten my seat belt, preparing for takeoff.

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