Page 18 of Sometimes You Fall

“I know my daughter, honey. And if she left, there was a reason, one she didn’t want you or me to know.” She shrugs, but I can tell she’s not happy with her daughter either.

I push a hand through my hair and blow out a breath. “Well, can I get her number then? Please?”

Shaking her head, she looks down at the ground. “If she didn’t give it to you herself, then I can’t help you.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Grady.” She moves to shut the door. “This is what Scottie wanted, and I have to honor that. As her friend, I hope you understand.”

The sound of the door clicking shut is like a nail being driven into a coffin, and with it I bury my feelings back where they belong—six feet under, where all my dreams have gone to die anyway.

Chapter four

Scottie

Eight Weeks Later

I let out another yawn as we pass the state line into North Carolina, the hum of the tires beneath us lulling me to sleep yet again. This is one of those moments when I wish Chase were just a little bit older and could drive, but then again, he’s not happy about the journey we’re on right now, so that would probably be just another thing for us to fight about.

“Are we there yet?”

I glance back at my son in the rearview mirror, wondering how the hell he grew up so fast. It wasn’t too long ago that he was five and sitting in his car seat, swinging his feet while eating Goldfish crackers, asking me the same question.

“A few more hours, baby.”

He rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the game on his phone. “I’m hungry.”

“What else is new?” Reaching for my purse, I locate the bag of sour peach rings I grabbed at the gas station at our last pit stop. “Wanna share some of these with me?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Those are gross.”

“What? Since when?” I rip open the bag with my teeth and hand it to him, but he shakes his head. “Really?”

“I want a burger. And a milkshake.” He licks his lips. “Can we stop for some food soon?”

Sighing, I glance at the clock on the dash. The length of this drive can be taxing, but at least I won’t have to make it again for a while—or ever, if I have it my way.

Two months ago, when we visited Carrington Cove for Christmas, the last thing I anticipated was moving back to my hometown just eight short weeks later. But life had other plans for us, and my gut told me this move was what my son and I needed—a fresh start, and distance—distance from the suffering we’d both endured for long enough.

“There’s a rest stop with a few fast-food chains in about twenty-five miles. We’ll stop then,” I reply, tossing a sour peach ring into my mouth, loving how the combination of sweet and sour bursts on my tongue. But as I chew, a sudden wave of nausea washes over me.

Whoa. That came out of nowhere.

Traveling at seventy miles per hour, I debate whether I need to pull over or wait for the churning in my stomach to subside.

Am I…am I really about to be sick right now?

I signal to my right, heading for the shoulder as I jerk the wheel to maneuver the car across two lanes of traffic.

“What the heck, Mom? What’s going on?” Chase asks, concern lacing his words.

Not wanting to risk opening my mouth to reply, afraid vomit might escape, I slam on the brakes, jump out of the car, round the hood, and barely reach the dirt on the side of the highway before emptying the contents of my stomach.

Every snack I’ve eaten for the past five hours reappears as the sound of a car door opening and closing rings out behind me.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Chase comes up on my side, rubbing my back.

Once the heaving subsides and I’m fairly certain there’s nothing left in my stomach, I brace my hands on my thighs, take a few deep breaths, and slowly stand upright. “Holy crap.”

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