Racing for Freedom - By Bec Botefuhr Page 0,21

stroking my back and murmuring to me. When I pull back, I take a deep breath and dress myself. I have to face this today, even though I don’t want to. When Lucas and I walk into the kitchen, Slade is getting coffee and Kandee is on the kitchen bench wearing his shirt, and by the looks of it, nothing else.

“Slade,” Lucas mutters.

“Lucas,” Slade smirks.

I pour myself a cup of coffee, keeping my eyes down. I can’t look at Slade right now, the fact that he doesn’t remember is causing my blood to boil. How could he forget? Did that night not change his life too?

“Still sour, Dash?” Slade says, stepping up beside me.

I flinch away and Lucas walks over, taking my arm and pulling me closer to him. “It’s ok, we’ll get this over with and go out for a nice lunch. Ok?”

“What are you talking about?” Slade says, staring at us.

Lucas glares at him and I slam my coffee mug down. My eyes burn with unshed tears as I look up at Slade.

“You don’t remember do you? You honestly are just a fucking jerk, Slade.”

His mouth drops open and Kandee begins cursing at me but cuts off short when I snarl at her.

“If you speak to me like that in my house again, I’ll give you something to curse about. Slade, that bitch is not welcome in my house anymore.”

Kandee’s mouth drops open and Slade raises his brows but before either can answer, I am out the door. Lucas follows behind me, taking my arm, just as I get to my car. A light rain has begun to fall and the clouds are grey. I’m sure it rains every year on this day. Lucas takes my face in his hands and looks down at me with pained blue eyes.

“I am going to be right here, ok?”

I nod, biting my lip and then I slip into my car and drive off.

Chapter Fifteen

The graveyard is quiet, I guess no one comes out when it’s raining. I walk through the rows and rows of headstones, silently praying for each and every one of them. They were all someone’s loved one, at one stage in their lives, or maybe they weren’t. All the same, they all deserve a little compassion and respect. When I find my mother’s headstone, I swallow down the lump in my throat.

I lower myself to my knees and reach out, sliding my fingers across the grainy rock. I see a bundle of fresh flowers on her grave and for a moment I wonder who put them there. Did dad come out of the house and put them down for her? Or was it just a friend of hers? Maybe a co-worker? I don’t buy flowers, I just can’t stand the idea of them slowly wilting on her grave. Instead, I place down small, plastic love heart. When I was a little girl, I loved to collect them and every time she went shopping, she would bring me one home. Now every year, I put one down for her.

“Hey mum,” I whisper, stroking the grave.

I struggle to hold back my tears, for years I came here and never shed a tear but today my emotions are far worse. I don’t really know why. Perhaps it’s the return of Slade and his father, making it all seem like it was just yesterday.

“I miss you,” I say to the stone. “I wish you were here every day. Dad doesn’t do so well without you and there are so many things I want to ask you, to tell you, to show you.”

I let a tear fall and I shuffle closer to the headstone, my chest heaves and my breathing becomes short. I would do anything in the world to bring her back, anything. I can’t though, and it’s the most heart wrenching feeling in the world. When she died, I called her phone over and over, just praying she would pick up. My dad had to wrench the phone from my hands and smash it to pieces, because I got so obsessive, I was calling it every five minutes, not believing that she could possibly be gone.

“I didn’t forget.”

I whip my head around at the voice that’s interrupted my moment. Slade is standing behind me, his hair is wet from the rain and his shirt is stuck to his skin. I look down at my own shirt, not having realized I was getting so soaked. He crouches down beside me and points