Escalation - Tessa Teevan Page 0,64
everything else for the church my father’s lawyer contacted to go through. It was excruciating, and the memories are still a bit fuzzy. I was in a daze, only lasting a few hours before I started throwing things into the back of my car. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and now that I’m this close, the confidence that built up is waning. But I need closure, and being here is the only way I can get it.
“Huh,” Rafe says.
I tear my eyes from the house and turn to look at Rafe, whose own gaze is fixated on something across the lawn. My eyes travel the distance, widening when I see what has caught his attention.
“It’s for sale,” I whisper, stating the obvious, both in confusion and in awe. “Pull into the drive.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I don’t know what I’m doing, but now that we’re here, I don’t want to leave.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
Taking a deep breath, I know I can do this. “I can’t explain it, Rafe, but I have to face this. I’ve spent years running, and I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t just want answers. I want to be free of the pain of losing them. I want the good memories to overshadow the bad. And I think this is the place to start.”
He nods then looks back at the “for sale” sign. “Do you want to go inside? I can call the realty company and see if we can get someone over here.”
I swallow hard, gazing back up at the house. “I…I think I’d like that.”
A soft smile crosses his face as he strokes my cheek. His touch not only soothes my soul, but creates a balm over my heart. Everything will be okay. I know it.
“I’m proud of you, Brie.”
The sentiment warms my heart and boosts my confidence. It makes me want to give him something to be proud of. To be the woman he sees when he looks at me. He’s called me strong, but in reality, I haven’t been. I haven’t been strong in years, and I need to get that part of me back.
My hand covers his. “Thank you,” I say. There are so many more words I could use to tell him how I feel, but right now, those two are enough.
He kisses my forehead. “I’ll go make the call.”
After he exits the car, I sit back for a moment. Fear and trepidation threaten to seep in, and the longer I sit here, the harder it’ll be to get out of the car. Just like last night when I conquered my fear of heights, I can conquer this, too.
As I step out of the car and breathe the familiar scent of pine, a smile slips on my face at the. My eyes wander towards the front porch, splashes of color filling my vision. The same vast floral array is bright and full, showcasing my mother’s green thumb. The tulips, the lilies, the hydrangeas—they’re all the same. I wonder who’s been caring for them.
The perfectly pruned hedge bushes aligned along the house remind me of my father, and I can practically hear his laughter as he chases Mom around with the sheers. In my mind, she’s heading for the side of the house, desperate to get to the hose to get him back. Usually, she’d succeed until they were both wet, muddy messes. Neither of them cared. They were happy. They were in love. And they loved me.
The closer I get to the house, the more the good memories rush to the surface. How many times did the three of us sit on the porch as we watched the Schwartzes rearrange their garden gnomes? All of those hours decorating the house according to the season. Christmas lights. Autumn pumpkins. Americana for the summer, and everything floral for the spring. It was always a happy home.
Until it wasn’t.
I shake the thought out of my head. This house still represents the happiest times of my life, and it’s time I remember that.
Slowly, with shaky legs, I climb the steps until I’m standing on the porch. I have no idea how long I’m fixed in that spot, staring at the bright-red door I persuaded my parents to paint thanks to my One Tree Hill obsession. It’s not the same shade it used to be, though. It had to be repainted thanks to the bloody handprint the murderer had left