Page 54 of Wait For It

Time to change my name and move away.

But then Killian had shown up with dinner and a forgiving smile, and I’d thrown myself at him, thinking it meant something.

I’ll tell you what it means when a man all but runs from your room screaming. It means you’re an idiot.

His rejection had left me feeling hollow and dangerously close to tears, but that wasn’t why I’d tossed and turned most of the night.

It was because when I’d looked in the mirror yesterday, I hadn’t recognized the woman staring back. And it wasn’t just the makeup and hair. I’d lost myself, trying to become someone I wasn’t—someone who would use another person to gain freedom.

Just like Helen’s old clothes, the behavior didn’t fit me.

“Are you okay—do you need a jacket?” Tsega fussed with the blanket draped across my legs.

I shook my head.No, just reliving every mistake I’ve made since arriving.

The small morning shower had moved out, leaving behind blue skies and temperatures in the high sixties. In other words, it was perfect gardening weather.

Although, I supposed it could have been forty degrees and I wouldn’t have complained. I loved working in the dirt, it gave me a chance to sort through my thoughts.

Satisfied with my response, she sat back to watch me. I picked up the trowel again, surrounding the burnt orange mums with more potting soil.

It was solitary work, but I preferred it to the constant noise insideTrue North. When my thoughts circled back to Killian, I switched out the trowel for my hands, taking my frustration out on the black soil.

Because I was a liar.

I’d been running since day one—from Tristan, the wreck, ghosts from the past—all of it. I didn’t know why I’d gotten into the convertible, but with my palm pressed to Killian’s chest, I finally felt safe. With each frantic beat of his heart, my steps slowed, allowing me to turn and face the truth.

I was scared.

Not of having my heart broken or spending the rest of my life locked inside a cage. No, I was petrified that the real me would never be enough for anyone. So, I let Brad put his hands on my body and took Helen’s horrible advice because their voices would always drown out the sound of my own.

Seeing the dirt caked beneath my fingernails gave me an idea, and I toed off my house shoes, digging my toes into the damp blades of grass.

It was grounding.

And, surprisingly, it reminded me of home. I’d often volunteered to work in the community greenhouse, preparing items to take to the local farmer’s market.

No one ever bothered me there. I could work in peace, only leaving when the palms of my hands were good and callused. I think Tristan was under the impression I was deep in prayer, and there were indeed days where that was true, but it wasn’t why I’d volunteered for the lonely task.

When I was elbow deep in dirt, I wasn’t the daughter of a prophet or a pawn in another one of his games.

I was whoever I chose to be in that moment.

Sometimes, I was a lowly governess, awaiting my beloved Rochester in the garden. I’d snip the dead off of vines and water the massive beds of flowers, all while imagining what it would be like to have someone to call my own. Other times, I was Elizabeth Bennet, walking the grounds with a racing heart as Mr. Darcy professed his love.

“My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

I could have read the line a million times and never tired of it because back then, I believed that someday, a man might express how ardently he loved and admired me.

It was naïve.

Deep down, I envied and admired these fictional women because they possessed something I lacked—free will. Despite the period, they weren’t easily swayed by the opinions of men. Love was a decision they made, not something thrust upon them by a voice louder than their own.

Maybe it had never been about running away or finding love, but in being brave enough to live life on my own terms. Everyone had a plan, convinced they knew what was best for me. The constant tug of war had turned me into a powder keg of tension, ready to ignite.

Tristan wanted to use me as an asset to line his pockets.

Brad wanted me broken and in chains.

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