Where Love Lies, page 1
Where Love Lies
M.N. Forgy
Introduction
This book contains elements that may trigger some. readers Discretion is advised.
Where Love Lies
By M.N. Forgy
Copyright © 2022 M.N. Forgy
Edited by Nerdword & Fairest Reviews
Cover by Tall Story
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Created with Vellum
“I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.”
Edgar Allan Poe
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Note from the author
Keep in Touch
Acknowledgments
Also by M.N. Forgy
1
The sun’s rays brush yellow hues across the naked sky as I drive away from the city of Charlotte, South Carolina. My entire childhood in the rearview mirror. Windows down, a warm, earthy breeze fills the car, causing an open cardboard box in the back to flap with the wind. With both hands on the wheel, my seat way too far up because I’m short and can’t reach the pedals, I adjust my round sunglasses, focusing on the road.
My thirteen-year-old daughter, Paige, shuffles in the passenger seat, huffs then places her scuffed Converse on the dash, a smiley face on the tip, from a permanent marker, beaming at us. Her brown eyes stare out the window, her jaw pulled tight in irritation.
“Babe, you can stay in touch with your friends.”
“It’s not the same,” she says with an exhale, rolling her eyes. I can’t help but notice how much she looks like her dad right now.
“You excited for a bigger room?” I try to make conversation, hoping if we focus on something exciting, it will distract her from all the things that aren’t. Sighing, she drops her phone in her lap.
“I don’t know. Everything seems wrong without Grandma.” She squints up at me, her usually bright eyes bathed in grief. Moving to the suburbs placed forty miles out of town without my mom feels unnatural. She should be here. It was her dream for all of us to move to the suburbs because she couldn’t give me that life when I was a child. We wouldn’t even be moving now if it weren’t for the inheritance she left behind. I have a feeling I would appreciate it a lot more as an adult anyways. Licking my lips, I try to ignore the pressing loneliness that freezes time now that she’s gone. It’s been two weeks since she died but it feels like it’s been three months.
Squealing tires peal behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering echoes around me. My body stiffens seconds before I’m thrust forward then snapped back against my seat from the seat belt catching. The quick tug makes my chest tighten and my body instantly ache. A loud whoosh of dust fills the car as the airbag deploys, punching me in the left side of the face. Our SUV careens to the side of the road before coming to an abrupt stop on the edge of the shoulder of the highway. Smoke plumes around the car, and I can’t help but cough. I bat at the airbag, adrenaline flowing through my body as I reach into the passenger seat for my daughter.
“Paige! Paige! Are you okay?” My hand swipes nothing but air.
Debris starts to settle, and I finally see her through the fog. She has one hand on the roof, one on the console between us, her body resting against the door. Thank god she had her seat belt on. She could have slammed into the dashboard or thrown from the car cracking her skull open. Her chest heaves as she looks around, her face pale from shock.
“Oh my God, Paige! Are you okay?” I grasp her by the cheeks, looking into her wide, scared eyes. Turning her head to look for injuries, I find a small cut on her cheek.
“Shit,” I whisper, inspecting it closely. It’s pretty deep for how small it is. I slide my hands down her arms to her hands, searching for other cuts. She seems to be fine other than her trembling state and labored breathing.
“What the hell!” she finally screams, spittle spewing from her bottom lip. There’s that mouth. She’s fine. Pulling her to me, I slowly release a breath, thanking God that she’s okay. I start feeling the pain from the wreck. Suddenly, I feel the tight pull in the nape of my neck and the strain in my chest. My head throbs. I think I might puke from the anxiety racing through me like a drug. If I’m this bad I can’t imagine what pain Paige is in.
“We should call an ambulance to get you checked out for internal injuries, babe.”
“No! How embarrassing! I’m fine.” She smacks my hands away, forcing me to back away. Her eyes fill with tears and body shaking she looks around the car. The first thing I notice is that damn cut; it looks bad. Blood spills from the wound, the magenta and plum hues from inflammation making her cheek look like a starfruit. She needs to be seen, regardless of what she wants.
Pressing her hand to her face, she applies pressure to the wound and kicks the airbag away from her. “I’m fine, Mom, really.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see traffic has stopped from the wreck.
“I should go check on the people that hit us.”
“Yeah, go. I’ll stay here,” she says on an exhale, resting her head on the headrest.
I nod. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be right back.”
My hand slides along the driver door, reaching for the handle and opening it. I instantly fall out of the car, my legs not working properly. My eyes scan for who hit us, and I spot a blue SUV with a dented front end, sitting about fifteen feet away, with smoke billowing around the hood and filling the air. It looks like their airbags didn’t deploy; I should make sure they’re okay. Forcing myself to walk I head toward the vehicle, the driver door swings open and a man steps out groaning. He seems calm compared to myself. His head snaps up, looking for who he hit, and our eyes lock. Bright as sky blue eyes infiltrate my own. He has sharp cheek bones with full lips and short ash brunette curls. His broad shoulders stretch, working out the knots. Despite the dirt and grime from the accident, he’s nothing short of the actor Ryan Phillippe.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t see you.” Sincerity wraps around his apology, his soothing voice like still water on a summer evening. Knowing he’s fine, I look back to my car; it’s definitely in worse shape than his. How are we supposed to move without a working vehicle?
Placing my hand on my forehead, I try to push through the anguish and despair and remain strong. I’m okay and Paige is going to be fine, that’s all that matters.
Forcing myself to think positive thoughts, I bite my bottom lip and take another glance at my car, the same one I’ve had since I was eighteen. “It’s definitely totaled,” I mutter, my words quivering with emotion. Stepping closer to it, I look through the back window. One side is broken and the other has spidering-like veins cracking throughout it. Some cardboard boxes are smashed against each other, but thankfully, all the breakables are with the movers.
“I can pay for the damages. I’m so sorry,” the guy says from behind me, his tone a bit too upbeat, considering the situation. Looking over my shoulder at him with a deadpan expression, he tilts his head into his shrug. I hate how calm he is. Why isn’t he even a little bit startled? Affected?
“Are you serious? Your insurance will cover it because it wasn’t my fault!” I spat, my tone as sharp as a blade. “And what do you mean, you didn’t see me? You had to be speeding around that corner to slam into me!” I’m talking with my hands at this point, waving them around for effect, which is what I do when I’m really upset.
Crossing one arm over his chest, with his elbow resting on his other arm, he holds his chin with his hand.
“Or, maybe you were driving too slow?” Dropping his arms, he grins as if his poking fun is cute. Now gone with the apologetic attitude his true colors coming to the shitshow.
My mouth drops, ang
“You hurt my daughter, how can you stand there and act like this is my fault.” Lines crease among my forehead as I scream at the asshole.
“Mom!” Paige hollers from the car; she must hear me yelling.
“Stay there, Paige!” I shout with annoyance, knowing if she comes out and sees me upset, she’ll follow suit, and this will be an even bigger scene.
“Who’s that?” the guy asks. His body shifts to the right, trying to get a look at who I have in the passenger seat.
“My daughter…” I murmur, but then remember she’s hurt because of him. “Who is injured because of you!” I point at him with my index finger, wishing it would slice through him right now. His negligence resulted in hurting my child and ruining my car. It should be him bleeding, not her.
Stepping past me, he heads to my car.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, but he ignores me and goes to the passenger side. I’m right behind him and ready to attack. He better not touch her!
“Let me see,” he speaks to Paige. She turns her face for him to see. “Yeah, that is a nasty cut. Let me grab something from the car to help with that.” Scooting past me, he jogs to his SUV.
“Is that who hit us?” Paige asks, looking out the window at him.
“Yeah…” I’m a bit lost at what to say to her about this man. Watching him rush back to us, he hands Paige a blue rag. It looks brand new.
“There ya go, just hold it on there. Apply pressure.” He’s bent over, hanging into the broken window to help her. He’s so attentive and calm but that rag isn’t going to cut it.
“Thank you, really, but I need to get her to the hospital to be checked out.”
“The ambulance must be held up somewhere,” he throws his hand out towards the backup traffic.
“Just my luck,” I mutter, the urge stinging my eyes.
“Well, your car definitely isn’t going anywhere. Let me take ya’ll to the hospital and I’ll get a tow truck out here—”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll take care of it.” I’ve been caring for Paige and me on my own, since I left Cam and I’ve become stronger and wiser for it. Some would even say stubborn. Cam is Paige’s father, and my ex-husband.
His chest rises with a hard inhale; he’s not pleased with my independence.
Silence falls between us, cars starting to honk impatiently, wanting us to move the wrecked cars off the highway, so they can pass.
He smiles, his chest silently shaking as if he’s laughing at me.
“What’s so funny, because this,” I point to my car and then Paige, “isn’t anything to laugh about!”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Refusing to let others help you when you clearly need it?”
“I don’t need your help!” I can feel my cheeks becoming hotter by the second, anger mounting inside me.
“Clearly,” he remarks with amusement. I’m so over this guys. I need to get him out of my face and take Paige to the hospital. Then get to the house and meet the movers. I go to my car and search for my phone to put in his information.
“Mom, can I get out?” Paige asks, sitting up in her seat. Her cheek still bleeding.
“No, there’s traffic everywhere, just sit tight for now.”
She groans and slumps back in her seat, in silent protest. I’ll deal with her later. I find my phone under my seat then walk back over to Mr. Ryan Phillippe, who can’t seem to take anything seriously.
“So, my name is Rain Adler,” I start, hoping to get him off the idea of taking us to the hospital.
“Rain, that’s a pretty name.” I still, our eyes locking again, and he’s being genuine. Shaking myself from staring too long , I clear my throat.
“My name is Heston Thayer. Let me take you to the hospital.” My hands drop to my sides. He just won’t give this up. First, he’s overly calm and then poking fun at me, and now, he’s being kind. I can’t make up my mind how to feel about him.
“Your car isn’t in the best shape either,” I gesture toward the smoking SUV, wondering if he forgot he was part of this wreck.
“Nah, she’ll get us there.”
“Mom, I don’t feel good,” she sobs. Shit, I really need to get her looked at. Maybe he’s right, maybe I do need his help. But he needs to understand that I’m not making this easy on him, not the least bit. He hurt my kid, and my car.
“Fine, you can take us to the hospital. I’ll call a tow truck on the way,” I finally give in.
I open Paige’s door and see that she’s still holding the rag on her cheek. From the color of the cloth and all the blood soaking in, it looks more like a purple rag.
“Come on, he’s going to give us a ride to the hospital.” I help her out, noticing the powder from the airbag sticking to her hairline and arms it makes her look in worse shape.
Paige doesn’t say anything as we slowly walk toward the SUV, keeping my arm around her shoulders to make sure she doesn’t fall. Opening the back passenger door for Paige, she boosts herself up and climbs into the back seat, resting her head on the headrest. A somber pull at her natural beauty, she places the rag back on her cheek and glances at me with a forced smile. Pulling my gaze from hers, I get into the passenger seat and shut the door. It’s very clean in here, the dash shiny, and floorboards without a speck of dirt. The leather seats polished and without wear. I’d think he just drove it off the lot, if it weren’t for the steering wheel. The sides are worn and ragged from driving, pieces of it tattered. The smoke dancing around his hood and into the cab catches my attention, and my brow rises. Is he sure he can even drive this the way it is?
He slides into his seat and shuts his door, his hands resting on the steering wheel.
“You sure you don’t need a tow truck?” I ask him, gesturing to all the smoke.
“Nah, I can fix it,” he insists, a bit of arrogance in his tone. He has to crank it twice before it finally starts then he glances over his shoulder before he pulls into traffic. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I hold it tight. Being in a strange man’s car is scarier than I imagined. Not wanting him to sense I’m uneasy, I Google a local tow truck company to come and get my car. They pick up on the first ring and I quickly give them the location and condition of my car. They assure me they’ll handle it and they’re on their way. It took a whopping five minutes to get that settled, and now I’m left sitting next to a man I don’t know anything about. Awkward silence fills the cab as the three of us sit confined in one small space, which causes my heart to race for a different reasons than just being in an accident.
“You wanna exchange information?” he casually asks, his words breaking through my panic. My eyes snap to him, without moving my head to look at the attractive man who hit my car, tended to my daughter and is now taking us to the hospital, despite what it’s doing to his car in its condition.
“Sure…” I finally respond.
He gives me his cell number and insurance information, and when I begin to tell him mine, he holds the wheel with one hand and swipes along his screen to enter it. Panicked, my hands rise, as if they’ll protect me from the dash if he wrecks or the car gives out.
“Whoa.” My heart begins to race as cars pass us with not much room to spare. “Umm, maybe you should wait until we get there?”
“Nah, I got it.” He clearly doesn’t sense my discomfort. We just got into a horrible wreck and with the condition his car is currently in, you would think he would be a little more attentive.
Closing my eyes, I focus on breathing and hope he’ll hurry the hell up and get off the phone.
