At the front of the hood of my Corvette, I stopped dead and my chest depressed like a boulder had landed on it.
The Expedition drove past, the driver not even glancing my way and my head turned, following it.
No f**king way.
No f**king way.
I’d seen him, this was true. I’d seen him dozens of times in the last sixteen years. Or, I had convinced myself I had.
But I hadn’t.
He was gone.
There was no way after sixteen years he’d make his way from Kentucky to a street in Denver at after four o’clock in the morning at the same time I was on that street.
No way.
There was a time when I wanted it. I saw him everywhere, that was how much I wanted it. I wanted to see him again so he could take me away like he promised. Time passed and my life that had been swirling flushed down the toilet and I wanted to see him again so I could scream in his face, kick him, beat him, share exactly what his betrayal meant to my heart and my life. How, when he left, a shit life that was only ever good when I was breathing his air turned even more shit.
That time was not now. I was over it. I’d gotten out, moved on, lived my own life how I wanted to live it, not how someone forced me to live it. It wasn’t easy. It was f**king hard. It nearly ended me.
But I did it and I was here. I liked my life.
And I didn’t look back.
Not ever.
Not f**king ever.
So that wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. It was my mind playing tricks on me.
Not the first time and, the way he f**ked me over, I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
I’d learned to live with it.
I came unstuck, rounded my girl, got in, started her up and headed to Slade.
* * * * *
I screeched to a halt in my driveway, threw open the door, angled out, slammed the door and ran across my yard to my neighbor’s.
Shit, I was five minutes late. And five minutes for Charlene was five minutes too many.
I knocked loud twice on her front door then turned the knob and walked in.
“I’m here! I’m here!” I shouted over what sounded like pandemonium. “I had work. Sorry I’m late.”
He came around and slammed into my legs.
“Sylvie! Sylvie! Sylvie!” Adam cried. “Toads are slimy!”
Then he pounded a fist hard into my thigh and raced away.
I followed him, walking from the entry into the living room, rounding through the dining room before I hit the kitchen which was bedlam.
Charlene was in a robe looking harassed. Adam was bumping repeatedly into the side of the counter. Theo was in his high chair, slamming his fists into the tray. Leslie was sitting in her booster seat, slamming her feet into the chair.
I went to Adam and gently led him away from the cabinets to the kitchen table, my eyes on Charlene.