Page 7 of The Girl I Once Loved

If I miss Daisy’s wedding, she’ll never forgive me. My relationship with my mother is already strained enough, with me not coming home and preferring to spend my holidays either working or at my father’s in Falmouth.

But if I miss Daisy’s wedding?

I’ll end up losing my whole family for good.

Silent tears stream down my cheeks, as I walk around my living room in search of my phone. With a self-deprecating chuckle I pick it up from the floor, staring at the cracked screen as if it’s mocking my current circumstance. I let out a relieved exhale after determining that the phone, although battered and bruised, still works. I pull out the thread of messages between me and Daisy and begin to write.

Me: I’m sorry.

It takes just seconds before I get her reply.

Daisy: I know.

Me: I’ll be there.

Daisy: I’ll believe it when I see it.

Me: I said I was sorry.

Daisy: You have until the end of the week to get here. Don’t break my heart, Sky. I’m counting on you.

Me: No pressure.

Daisy. Where’s the fun in that? Luv u

Me: Love you too.

After I’ve made sure that I’ve patched things up with Daisy, I go over to the kitchen and grab the vodka bottle out of the fridge. I then go back to the living room and grab my laptop to book my flight home.

Home.

I’ve lived most of my life on the mainland, but anytime I think of home, my mind always travels back to Thatcher’s Bay.

They say that home is where the heart is.

They’re not wrong.

Thatcher’s Bay is where I left mine.

And I’ve been living perfectly content without it ever since.

I have no desire to visit its deformed existence or retrieve it from the villain who butchered it.

But I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

I’m going home, whether I’m ready to or not.

I’m going home.

For Daisy.

Chapter Two

Skylar

Istare at the phone on my cluttered desk, my finger hovering over the call button, as I consider my options. I need to tell my editor, Eliza, that I’ll be gone for a few months, and right now, I’m wondering how best to go about it. A text would do the trick…but a part of me is hoping that if I call her with the news, she’ll throw a huge fit and tell me there’s far too much work to be done for me to leave for that long and with such short notice. Yup

Maybe Eliza is the key to giving me an excuse to stay away from Thatcher’s Bay.

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