Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Then a new neighbor moves down the street. Menacing sleeves of tattoos, a permanent scowl, single with no kids—he doesn’t belong in this family-friendly community.
People are whispering.
Doors are staying locked.
Secrets are being shared.
Heart pleasing love doesn’t exist here. It digs a grave and lies in it, whispering untold truths. The quaint town of Fairview isn’t so safe anymore—and neither is Rain.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
The sun’s rays brush yellow hues across the naked sky as I drive away from the city of Charlotte, South Carolina. My entire childhood in the rearview mirror. Windows down, a warm, earthy breeze fills the car, causing an open cardboard box in the back to flap with the wind. With both hands on the wheel, my seat way too far up because I’m short and can’t reach the pedals, I adjust my round sunglasses, focusing on the road.
My thirteen-year-old daughter, Paige, shuffles in the passenger seat, huffs then places her scuffed Converse on the dash, a smiley face on the tip, from a permanent marker, beaming at us. Her brown eyes stare out the window, her jaw pulled tight in irritation.
“Babe, you can stay in touch with your friends.”
“It’s not the same,” she says with an exhale, rolling her eyes. I can’t help but notice how much she looks like her dad right now.
“You excited for a bigger room?” I try to make conversation, hoping if we focus on something exciting, it will distract her from all the things that aren’t. Sighing, she drops her phone in her lap.
“I don’t know. Everything seems wrong without Grandma.” She squints up at me, her usually bright eyes bathed in grief. Moving to the suburbs placed forty miles out of town without my mom feels unnatural. She should be here. It was her dream for all of us to move to the suburbs because she couldn’t give me that life when I was a child. We wouldn’t even be moving now if it weren’t for the inheritance she left behind. I have a feeling I would appreciate it a lot more as an adult anyways. Licking my lips, I try to ignore the pressing loneliness that freezes time now that she’s gone. It’s been two weeks since she died but it feels like it’s been three months.
Squealing tires peal behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering echoes around me. My body stiffens seconds before I’m thrust forward then snapped back against my seat from the seat belt catching. The quick tug makes my chest tighten and my body instantly ache. A loud whoosh of dust fills the car as the airbag deploys, punching me in the left side of the face. Our SUV careens to the side of the road before coming to an abrupt stop on the edge of the shoulder of the highway. Smoke plumes around the car, and I can’t help but cough. I bat at the airbag, adrenaline flowing through my body as I reach into the passenger seat for my daughter.
“Paige! Paige! Are you okay?” My hand swipes nothing but air.
Debris starts to settle, and I finally see her through the fog. She has one hand on the roof, one on the console between us, her body resting against the door. Thank god she had her seat belt on. She could have slammed into the dashboard or thrown from the car cracking her skull open. Her chest heaves as she looks around, her face pale from shock.
“Oh my God, Paige! Are you okay?” I grasp her by the cheeks, looking into her wide, scared eyes. Turning her head to look for injuries, I find a small cut on her cheek.
“Shit,” I whisper, inspecting it closely. It’s pretty deep for how small it is. I slide my hands down her arms to her hands, searching for other cuts. She seems to be fine other than her trembling state and labored breathing.
“What the hell!” she finally screams, spittle spewing from her bottom lip. There’s that mouth. She’s fine. Pulling her to me, I slowly release a breath, thanking God that she’s okay. I start feeling the pain from the wreck. Suddenly, I feel the tight pull in the nape of my neck and the strain in my chest. My head throbs. I think I might puke from the anxiety racing through me like a drug. If I’m this bad I can’t imagine what pain Paige is in.
“We should call an ambulance to get you checked out for internal injuries, babe.”
“No! How embarrassing! I’m fine.” She smacks my hands away, forcing me to back away. Her eyes fill with tears and body shaking she looks around the car. The first thing I notice is that damn cut; it looks bad. Blood spills from the wound, the magenta and plum hues from inflammation making her cheek look like a starfruit. She needs to be seen, regardless of what she wants.
Pressing her hand to her face, she applies pressure to the wound and kicks the airbag away from her. “I’m fine, Mom, really.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see traffic has stopped from the wreck.
“I should go check on the people that hit us.”
“Yeah, go. I’ll stay here,” she says on an exhale, resting her head on the headrest.