Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Dane Griggs
CHAPTER 1
Lily
My eyes are beginning to ache. I rub them, trying to relieve their throbbing while keeping one eye on the road before me. As I drive, the relentless sun overhead keeps getting in my eyes, reflecting off the highway and other vehicles on the road with me. God, I hate driving. But there’s nothing for it; I had to get out of Brookhaven. I drive north doggedly, chasing the tantalizing promise of a fresh start. My steadfast companion, Mango, is safely tucked away in his crate in the backseat. He makes a little grumble of discontent as if he senses I’m thinking about him. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s okay. His orange-striped fur seems to glow in the late afternoon light, his citrine eyes reflecting the bright sun.
“You okay, baby? Do you need a break?”
“Mrow.”
“Okay, I hear ya. I’ll pull over at the next exit, and we’ll stretch our legs,” I promise.
My brows furrow as I watch the same semi-truck that I haven’t been able to get away from start to pass me once again. I’m getting really annoyed with this guy – he keeps speeding up and passing around me, only to slow down once he gets in front of me. And I hate driving behind big trucks. It makes me nervous when I can’t see the road in front of me because some massive vehicle is blocking my view.
“Really? Again?”
Casting a glance toward the rearview mirror to check the traffic behind me, I catch sight of myself. The heavy, dark bags under my hazel eyes tell the tale of recent sleepless nights. My hair, usually a riot of chestnut, now lies limp and lifeless. Each strand looks as frayed as I feel.
My skin looks paler than usual, making the bags under my eyes even more pronounced. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me.
“So what if I look like the walking dead,” I mutter, forcing a tired smile onto my face. “At least I’m still walking.”
As the adage goes – this too shall pass. Just like the truck as it once again zooms past me.
Around me, the car hums and rattles, crammed with all my meager belongings. I can’t believe my entire life fits inside a single car. How have I reached the age of 29 with so little to show for it? I know exactly how, but I force my mind away from that train of thought.
I’m reaching for the dial on the radio, ready to drown out my morose thoughts when my phone rings. Saved by the bell.
The caller ID flashes “Aunt Zinnia”.
“Mango, it’s your favorite person in the whole world, Aunt Zizi,” I announce, glancing in the rearview mirror at my cat’s crate. At the sound of Aunt Zizi’s name, Mango lets out a rumbling purr. His ears prick up, and those golden eyes seem to sparkle.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” I chide playfully, a half-grimace, half-smile tugging at the edges of my mouth. “You know, you never made such a fuss over Marcus. Should’ve known then he wasn’t for me – not if he couldn’t charm you.” With a soft scoff and shake of my head, I tap the green button, putting my aunt on speaker.
“Lilith! How’s the trip going so far? Are you still planning to arrive by Friday?” Aunt Zinnia’s voice comes over the speaker just as chirpy and vibrant as ever.
I glance at the GPS and respond, “Yes, Aunt Zizi, I’m still on track. I’ll be on your doorstep in just a few days.”
“I’m glad you’re coming. You know that there will always be a place for you in my home,” Aunt Zizi reminds me.
“Of course, I know that. And… thank you. Again. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been a lifesaver.”
Memories whisper at me from the back corners of my mind. I was fifteen, raw with grief and confusion, my world shattered by the loss of my parents in a car accident. Suddenly, Aunt Zinnia was there. She traded her life of carefree solitude – her globe-trotting and love for the unknown – to patch the remnants of my fragmented world. She took in a shy, introverted kid and gave me space to be myself, even though I am as different from Zizi as could be. She’s the life of the party. However, I have always felt welcomed and loved by her. She held me as I cried into the wee hours, put up with my teen angst like a pro, and even changed her career path to stay local while I lived with her. Her life – full of vibrant energy and endless adventures – was put on pause so that I could have some semblance of normalcy. A few years later, when I packed my bags for college, she picked up where she’d left off and returned to her roaming, but our bond was forever changed; solidified into something as solid as steel and profoundly beautiful.
Over a decade later, I find myself again on the cusp of life-altering change, and Aunt Zizi is once more offering shelter from the storm.
