Chapter 1
Ashlyn
I wish I could say coming back home felt like old times, but that would be a lie.
I hate it here, and even more, I hate the people.
I know that sounds harsh, and it makes me look like a total bitch, but it’s a simple truth, and from my point of view, wholly earned.
Six months is what I tell myself. That’s how long I’m stuck here, but to be honest, as much as I hate it in this podunk town, I’d give anything for it to be a year. If it would buy me more time withher.
I put three bags of Epsom salts into my cart, then make my way over to the digestive aid section.
Someone’s eyeing me from the end of the aisle, hardly being discrete. I pay them no mind, hoping to get my granny’s goods and hightail it out of here to the lonely manse I bought for her some years back.
I throw some probiotics into the cart and wheel my goods over to the cashier, unloading the items onto the belt and rummaging through my purse for my card.
“Ashlyn?” a timid voice says.
I exhale loudly, making my annoyance known, and look up at a familiar pair of eyes.
“Casey?”
She rings up my goods, shoulders slumped, looking defeated. “That’ll be fifteen dollars and
thirty-seven cents.”
“I’m sorry—I must have come off like a jerk.”
Her lips curve into a slight smile. “It’s okay. You must have a lot on your mind.”
It’s true, but if anyone deserves my attention, it’s Casey Clark.
When most of my peers and high school friends were going off to college, I sat down behind my grandma’s clunky old typewriter and began writing. At first, it was short stories. I entered a few competitions and won some awards. Small ones.
My granny was so tickled, she spent the last of her savings buying me a computer, which may not seem like a big deal, but we were rock-bottom poor.
With access to a computer, my works grew longer, and I was eventually offered a publishing contract. On a whim, I converted it into a screenplay, and within three years, it was a Hollywood blockbuster.
All that before I turned twenty-five. Now, at twenty-eight, I’ve written over a dozen novels that have all gone on to become bestsellers and four more blockbusters.
But with that joy came heartache as people I thought were my friends told my secrets. A detailed account of how I lost my virginity made its way into the tabloids courtesy of Andy Clayton, my prom date, and items from my girlhood made it onto eBay.
Casey, my closest friend, never sold me out.
I swipe my card and wait for the receipt.
“It was good seeing you,” Casey says, handing me my bags.
“Yeah, ummm…it was.”
I feel like a jerk. Casey and I met in kindergarten and became steadfast friends until I seemingly fell off the face of the planet. I wish I had handled things differently.
“How are you?” I ask, wanting to extend my time with her.
“Oh, I’m doing alright. I teach third grade during the school year and work here during the summer. My parents moved to Florida last year, so I’m hoping to go down there soon.”
I force a smile.
