Before my brain registered the sound of breaking glass, the flesh of my upper lip split. A warm viscous liquid spilled down my chin in thick beads once the bourbon bottle broke. I froze as the searing pain sliced into me. My eyelids shot open to find the ground stained red, the color seeping outward among the shards.
The sound of breaking glass was the anthem of my childhood. A day never went by without glittering fragments of a liquor bottle reverberating through the house, but this was the first time he’d broken it across my face.
His leathered face was a mottled crimson, and his bloodshot eyes were strained. His words spat out with the ferocity of machine gunfire. “Don’t talk nonsense, boy. Military ain’t for you. You’ll stay here and work on the farm like I had to.”
There was stillness from both of us. If hatred was visible, the air between us would’ve been scarlet. When my father had a few too many drinks, he lost all ability to reason. He'd lash out first, think later.
My mother’s trembling, plump form took a small step in between us. “F-Frank, dear. He was just suggesting it. He wasn’t going to just up and leave.”
“Maybel, stay the hell out of it.” In one stride he was in her face, daring her to say something more.
She stumbled backward and nodded, shooting me a sorrowful gaze. My mother was a coward. She never tried to stand her ground against the pathetic piece of trash.
“I’m not staying on this damn farm another night.” I pushed passed them and stormed up the stairs to my room. The pain throbbed in my lip, but I was too pissed off to care. I kicked my door open and started throwing random shit into a duffle bag. Blood dripped onto everything I grabbed. The one thing I made sure to pack was a pocket watch that held a photograph of me and Evelyn inside. She gave it to me on my birthday a couple of weeks ago.
I was ready to leave Violet Ridge, for good. I wouldn’t miss this God-forsaken farm or the people in it. But I’d miss the hell out of the curly-redheaded girl filled with compassion.
I heaved the bag over my shoulder and barreled down the stairs.
“Flynn, honey, please don’t listen to your father.” My mother’s hand caught mine before I walked out of the door. “You graduate from high school tomorrow morning.”
A muscle in my jaw ticked as I shook my head.
“Please, at least let me take you to a hospital tonight.” Her gray sunken eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“It’s a little too late for that, Ma.” I pushed open the torn screen door about to come off its hinge, and it made a violent screech as it slammed behind me.
I threw the bag in my pickup truck and peeled out onto the dirt road. I had to say goodbye to the only person in this shit-hole of a town that cared, to the only one who made me happy.
A black hole warped into my heart, leaving it barren. I had to do what I was born to do, to make the changes and the sacrifices necessary for my life.
I parked on the narrow dirt path leading to her family’s tiny red-brick cottage, a cottage old and crumbly, but it gave the place charm. It had a grey slate roof and one small chimney with two little windows at the front. An enormous oak tree stood over the cottage. The massive branches seemed to embrace the tiny building. The window to the left was Evelyn’s room. The lights were off in the whole house, and I couldn’t muster the courage to call, text, or knock on her window like I knew I should have.
Glaring back at me in the rearview mirror was a face more purple and red than any other color. The skin had ruptured above the growing knots on my face. The cut from the bottle was gaping, blood still oozing out.
I sighed. She couldn’t see me like this. I knew Evelyn had a heart of gold. She’d put her life on hold to follow me, and I couldn’t be that selfish.
Without another thought, I pulled out of the dirt path and got on the highway. Every mile I drove away from Violet Ridge, from Evelyn, a knot twisted in my gut.
It was better this way, and I was never coming back.
My salon was a place of connection just as much as it was about the pampering. It was where the community in Violet Ridge went to gossip, vent, and feel good about themselves. People came here to look pretty, but I made sure they left feeling beautiful and confident. I loved what I did. I loved smelling the perfumed air and making life-long friendships with my clients.
Cut from the Heartwas my vision of perfection. Ever since I was a kid, I watched my mom cut, style, and dye hair out of our home. I’d wanted to do the same, but on a larger scale. I’d worked my ass off on making it a reality.
The salon was a cute red brick building that took roots in the quaint home of Violet Ridge. Inside was a wide-open space of mirrors and black leather swivel chairs. The floor was polished concrete, and the walls were bright white. One hair washing station sat in the back corner next to the hair drying station. We had a vanity full of makeup products for clients wanting makeup services, and another area that was dedicated to manicures and pedicures. I had hired a sweet older man, Randal, who was able to do just about anything nail related.
I gripped the stainless steel scissors carefully as I snipped away at Magnolia’s long blonde hair. The woman was blonde from root to tip and radiated sunshine to everyone she crossed. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”
Affection glowed in her emerald green eyes as she met my gaze in the mirror. “Lance has been yanking on it every chance he gets. I always have to throw it in a bun. It’ll be a good change. Besides, I’ve never had short hair before.”
I pouted my bottom lip out. “How is he three months old already?”
She remained still as I chopped away at her once thick, waist-length locks. “I know. It’s totally crazy. But Luca’s a great dad.”
I had cut her hair to the length she wanted, level with her collar bone. I began layering it. “He really is. I still can’t believe it’s already been a year since you guys finally got together.”
“He was such a dick.” She chuckled. “But, it all turned out the way it was supposed to.”
