Chapter One
Magnolia
His hands tighten around my throat, and I cannot breathe. Why won’t he let me breathe? Rage burns in his eyes as the dreaded whiskey monster takes over once again. We have been here before, but this time is different. This will be the last time.
I gasp and grab my neck, trying to catch my breath. Trying to get his hands off my throat. It takes me a moment to realize thatI am safe. Well, as safe as I can be while living out of my car. Sweat coats my skin like a wet blanket settling over top of me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had big dreams, but they were all destroyed by that fucking whiskey monster. Chris was a good man, or so I thought. He lost his mind when the whiskey took over. It consumed every bit of him and most of my sanity. I tried to crawl my way back to the light several times, but the demon that invaded his mind kept a tight hold on mine. I was convinced that I could fix him, and it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was easy to make excuses and blame the bruises on clumsiness, but I knew the truth. I always knew the truth, even when I vehemently denied the severity of the situation.
The truth was simple. Chris was a raging alcoholic with a violent temper. He was a narcissist who played on my kind nature and lured me in. He used and abused me for his own sick and twisted fantasies. He was broken from the beginning; I was just colorblind to the red flags. I was so dead set on finding love beyond my roots that I did everything wrong. I let my walls come down for someone who didn’t earn it. I know that the terrible things I endured were not my fault, but my decisions led me to this place in my life.
I spent weeks hiding out in a domestic violence shelter, going through criminal charges and court proceedings, until I finally caught a break. Chris had a long history of assault in general, so when I filed charges for aggravated domestic battery, they threw the entire book at him. He was sentenced to ten years, and I obtained a lifetime order of protection. He nearly killed me, but I found my way back to the light. I survived him, so I know I can survive this.
One would think that going home would feel incredible, but I feel like a complete and total failure. Don’t get me wrong, I am in love with the Appalachian Mountains, and this tiny town has always been my source of happiness, but this isn’t how it wassupposed to be. I promised myself that when I returned, I would be someone that others could be proud of. Now, I am returning to my roots with a mind full of anxiety and a body covered in scars.
I was born and raised in Western North Carolina. Specifically, Bryson City, North Carolina. The population is just over six hundred, and it is a place where everyone knows everyone. Everyone visits the same stores run by the same people. No matter your routine, you will be recognized. When I was a teenager I fucking hated that because anything I did always got back to my parents. Looking back, I realize how incredibly lucky I was to have an entire village of people looking after me. If only they were there when the darkness started to settle in. What are they going to think when I come home without a college degree, with my dreams in shambles, and more broken than when I left? I missed so much while I was gone. I missed the last days with my parents before the car accident. I was supposed to be with them, but Chris had other plans. Plans that didn’t involve me being with anyone I cared about. I will regret abandoning them for the rest of my life. I do not deserve forgiveness, or at least that’s what I always tell myself.
I could have gotten into town late last night, but I wasn’t ready yet. I am a few miles down the road on the side of Highway 74. My car is struggling, so I need to take it to the shop as soon as I get in. I am praying that it changed ownership, but I don’t have a choice. Poor Betsy is going through a quart of oil quicker than she’s going through gas. Driving across the country in a piece-of-shit car was not my brightest idea, but it got me back home.
I sit my seat up and run my hands down my face. You can do this, Magnolia. Everyone loves you and will understand. No one will judge you. You will rebuild. How many times am I going to tell myself this before I finally believe it? I have no reason to think that they would do anything other than welcome mehome with open arms. But it’s the fact that I’m coming back with nothing. I have less than a hundred dollars to my name, and I only have that from selling everything I own. How am I supposed to survive on sixty-four dollars? First things first, I need to find somewhere to stay that is not this car.
There is a crappy little camper park where most everyone is definitely smoking meth. They are not dangerous, and they usually keep to themselves, so I know I’m safe. I might have roaches as roommates, though. I’ll have to find a job as soon as possible so I can stay afloat, somewhat as well.
I feel a wave of emotions hit me when I pull up to the shop and see that it’s still owned by the Richards family. By family, I mean Beau. His dad died of a heart attack when we were seventeen. A family friend ran it until he was out of high school, and he has been the owner ever since.
Beau Richards was my best friend and the absolute love of my life. We finally confessed our love for each other shortly after high school, but I promptly left. I ran away because I was afraid of being stuck in this town. I didn’t appreciate what I had until Chris took me away from it. I don’t know whether I should jump out and run to him, or break down crying because I know I hurt him. That was a shitty thing to do and a completely unredeemable fuck-up on my part. I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he cut my brake lines.
The door to the office opens, and I panic. I immediately put the car into reverse, but when I hit the accelerator, there was a loud pop, followed by smoke billowing out from underneath the hood. “Fuck,” I sigh.
He’s already seen me, so I put the car into park and lie my head back. My eyes are closed when he opens my driver’s side door. “Well, I’ll be,” Beau hums. “Miss Magnolia has returned to little ol’ Bryson City.”
“Hey, Beau,” I say quietly.
“Don’t be shy. Get out and give me a hug,” he laughs. Beau is an upfront and blunt man. He is also fucking gorgeous. He stands at six feet two inches tall. He has always been bulky, but years of manual labor in the shop have accentuated his muscles even more. He has a rugged look about him that is undeniably sexy.
I get out, and he wraps me in a tight hug. His body nearly swallows mine, as I am just over five feet tall. I used to be on the heavier side, but years of being so stressed that I couldn’t eat led me to look sickly. At least I think I do. Chris loved to point out my flaws, so it distorted the reflection I saw in the mirror. It entirely depends on the day, but some days I feel like a whale while other days I can see that my eyes are sunken in, and I look malnourished.
“What brings you to town, Maggie?” Beau asks as he pulls back to look at me.
“I uh… I’m moving back. I just got in,” I say. “My poor car is on its last leg, I think.”
“I think its last leg was just cut off,” he chuckles. “How’s that boyfriend of yours? Chris, right?”
“In prison,” I deadpan.
“What? Why?” he asks.
“Look. Can you see if you can maybe give me an idea of what’s wrong with the car?” I ask. “It goes through a quart of oil faster than a tank of gas.”
“Pop the hood,” he says with a smirk. Why does he have to be so damn calm? He should tell me to go fuck myself after what I did. He told me he was in love with me, and I ran away. Why is he being nice? Why am I even here if I know that I deserve the worst he has to offer?
I try to ignore the negativity swimming in my head and pop the hood. “Well,” Beau chuckles. “I found the source of that noise.”
“Oh God,” I sigh.
“You, my dear, have a nice little window in the block. Who knew you were into redecorating?” Beau explains humorously.
“Do you still take scrap cars?” I ask.
