Chapter One
“How are you so long?” I growled into the mirror. I took chunks of my hair with my fists and tugged as hard as I could. “Ow!”
Okay, so pulling my stupid hair out by the stupid roots was not going to work. I glanced at the cheap scissors I’d picked up at the market with longing, but knew they weren’t an option.
I’d already been down that road.
More than once.
Almost a year ago, I’d hacked away my hair and changed up my look to escape a world that terrified me. Since then, my hair had taken on a life of its own. I couldn’t keep it short.
I couldn’t keep it choppy or massacred or anything short of shampoo-commercial worthy.
“I hate you,” I growled into the mirror at my shiny, golden-red locks. When my eyes dipped to meet my own gaze, I felt my heart stutter and then stop.
My frustrated words bounced around in my chest and resonated in my ears.I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
Who was I talking to?
I swallowed through emotions I was too stubborn to deal with and fear too bitter to taste. I would deal with those things later.
When I wasn’t already late for work.
I spun around and hurried through my little beach bungalow, swooping up my purse and abused paperback. I shoved my current read into the oversized silky bag I’d bought beneath a palm tree from one of my favorite beachside vendors last week and skipped through the front door.
The cool, salty breeze sailed over my skin with a tingle of pleasure. I lifted my nose to the sky and closed my eyes against the pure taste of ultimate freedom. I had escaped.
I was lonely. I was bored. I had left whatever pieces of my heart still beating with life back in Omaha. And I had abandoned everyone that counted on me.
But I had escaped.
I turned around to lock up my house. It wasn’t exactly foreign to live alone. I had my own place when I was sentenced to Arizona for rehabilitation. When I moved back to Omaha, my mother and I had fallen into the same routine as usual. We tried to keep as opposite schedules as possible, since neither one of us could stand the sight of the other.
But it was different here.
I wasn’t just alone, I wasutterlyalone.
I had no one watching me constantly or demanding I do things I didn’t want to do. I also didn’t have friends that actually cared about me or cared about what I was doing.
And worst of all, I didn’t have Ryder.
My hand shook as I lifted my keys to the deadbolt. I blinked away fresh tears as the lock clicked into place. Ryder was another thing I needed to bury. And quickly.
I couldn’t do this right now.
Or ever.
I bounded down the steps that led out to a quaint but chipped sidewalk. My tiny rental sat right on the beach. Golden sand spread out in front of me and led straight to shimmering aqua ocean that was so transparent, the coral beneath the surface glittered in the sunlight. The salty breeze constantly surrounded me and added soothing character to magnificent sunsets and miles and miles of white-topped waves.
I had found paradise. And yet it felt empty.
I slung my purse across my body and walked down to the road. I had set up my new life in a tourist village that catered to foreigners. I mingled with natives that spoke fantastic English and thought I was strange because I had come to the island and never left. They asked me every week when I would be headed back home. I avoided answering with pretty smiles and flirtatious laughter.
The main road in the village was filled with pedestrian traffic and the occasional taxi. American and English voices blended together, asking for directions or bargaining over souvenirs. I weaved through sweaty bodies with my eyes on the ground and my hands clutching my purse.
I hated the walk to work. I hated that I had to leave the quiet safety of my house and venture into populated places where anyone could see me.
I hated staying home too, though. I hated the stifling silence and the ache in my chest that sometimes grew so sharp I thought it would split me in two. Home was a necessity I put up with for my survival.
