better than that.”
I lifted my chin. “I did too.”
The metal doors closed on my view of him, and I sagged back against the wall. Everyone was disappointed in me, which just reassured me I was making the right decision by leaving. But I wasn’t really sure where I’d go.
I’d planned on life-guarding the rest of the summer and saving my money, but I couldn’t stay here anymore. The pool—the town—carried too many memories of Callie. It turned out when you spent your whole life loving someone, it was hard to know what to do, who to be, when that relationship stopped.
I thought about calling Mom, asking if I could bum it with her in her hotel where I wouldn’t know a soul, but that didn’t feel right either. I’d just be around another one of the women who suffered at the hands of the Cooks. I needed to go somewhere different, somewhere safe.
I got out my phone and typed in my grandparents’ address, and then I left Emerson and my old self behind.
The farther I got from Emerson, the emptier I felt. I was leaving my past, but I was also leaving my future. My phone kept ringing as calls from Gemma and my mom came through. Gemma had surely told Mom, but there wasn’t a great way to say the apple didn’t fall far from the poison tree.
I needed my GPS to get to my grandparents’ house, though, so I finally bit the bullet and picked up the phone. Before I had a chance to say anything, my mom’s voice came through the speakers, saying, “Carson! Thank God you’re okay.”
My lip curled at her concern. Was she really that worried about my safety? My well-being? She raised four children in a home with an abuser, and now she wanted to make sure I was okay?
“I’m not okay, Mom. I have a bruise on my face the size of your husband’s fist and one in my side the size of his shoe. My sister’s going back to work with a shiner, and the girl I love is terrified of me.” My vision blurred, and I pulled off onto the shoulder. A semi blew past, careless to the turmoil happening alongside the road.
Suddenly, the car felt too small, too tight, and I stepped into the hot, dry air, staring over the desert scrub. I crossed the front of the car, pressing my eyes to keep the tears at bay. When I lifted the phone back to my ear, my mom’s sobs came through the speaker.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I’d dreamed of the day my parents would realize they’d made a mistake—the day they’d apologize for what they put my sisters and me through, but this didn’t feel like what I’d imagined. Mom’s words didn’t change the last eighteen years, didn’t make the bruise go away, wouldn’t make me a safe person for Callie.
I didn’t need Mom’s apology. I needed my grandparents. Someone to love me no matter where I came from.
I got back into my car and drove until I reached my old hometown. Until the brick bungalow came into view. And then I walked down the sidewalk and I stared at the bright yellow door to my grandparents’ house. It looked exactly the same, but incredibly different. They had the same porch swing out front. The same old truck sat in the driveway, but now they had a massive carport beside their house for their RV. Their doormat read Home Is Where You Park It.
Now that I was here, I felt like a little kid again, running over from my parents’ house to avoid their arguing. To get some freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk and a solid hour of cartoons. The same sense of security wasn’t there, though. Because I knew no matter how far I ran, I couldn’t escape the curse. Couldn’t escape myself.
I wasn’t even sure if I should knock. As a kid I used to walk right in, but it had been a long time since I called Texas home.
My question was answered as the door swung open and my grandma pulled me into a hug. She was shorter than me—only coming up to the base of my chest—but she made me feel small wrapped inside her arms. Safe.
I dropped my head on her shoulder and sobbed.
Forty-One
Callie
When I walked into the house after work, my dad was in the living room watching the news. At the sight of me coming