A motor-mouth southern belle tries playing detective only to collide with a dangerously sexy biker.
Ellie Robinson takes it upon herself to secretly vacay to Sunny Valley, Alabama, on her best friend's behalf. There, Ellie uncovers a shocking truth...
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"I'll never forget that door." The memory hazes over my mind, replaying on the stream as the sun's light streaks past some of the trees, making the water act as if it's winking at me, taunting me. "It was blue with a crack right down the middle of it, splinters of the wood sticking out like sharp bristles. It was as if someone had taken an ax to it. Maybe a dissatisfied customer."
I crouch down, my fingers finding a small spot with little pebbles. I had always liked sticking my hands in things like rice and beads. My fingers would stiffen then relax as if they were giving an excited sigh. Now I know it's because I have sensory issues.
My calloused pads pick up some of the pebbles as the blood in my veins practically hums in satisfaction. "It looked like a door straight out of a horror movie and what awaited me was worse than that."
"It's time for you to start being and man and stop this baby stuff. Now get in there and get it done."
"But I don't want to."
"If you don't, you won't be breathing tomorrow."
"Why would he make you do something like that?" Ellie questions, her voice heavy but laced in softness.
"It was his way of curing me."
"Curing you of what?"
I fiddle with the pebbles as my mind fills with all the odd things I did as a child. How it drove my old man nuts. But the worst was my inability to tolerate touch. I hated it. He couldn't understand and thought I was being weak, pathetic.
"Lee?" Ellie gently calls out but I'm too busy and focused on the calming texture of the little rocks.
"My undiagnosed disorder I suppose. My discomfort at being touched and the anxiety that would follow." We grow silent and I let out a breath. "What do you think the opposite of love is, sweetheart?"
I can sense Ellie's discomfort, my skin prickles at the side she's by, goosebumps forming underneath my shirt making me want to itch them. She shifts, and in my peripheral vision, her shoes scuffle, moving back and forth from her weight like a seesaw.
"Hate, right?" she asks, her voice tight and thick with the effort it's taking to hold herself back.
"I don't think that's true." My fingers let the pebbles fall from my hold then I pick some more up and do it again, liking the sound of the tiny stones crashing together. "I've only ever seen or felt love a couple of times in my life, with Jojo, Adonis, even my old man when I was a kid and didn't know better. But then reality hit and love seemed like a fool's dream."
To love meant to lose.
I had lost Jojo, then I lost Adonis by choice.
My body falls back and I find a comfortable sitting position, throwing my arm over my knee as I look out at the creek. There's a crunching of leaves as Ellie sits beside me, leaving a small amount of respectful space between us.
