Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

P resent Day

"It's going to be a few more minutes. The doctor just called it in."

Erin rolled her eyes and turned away from the pharmacist's counter. "It's the same prescription he's taken for years," she grumbled under her breath. How hard was it to put a call in to the town doctor? There was only one.

Small children chattered in the nearby aisle. One especially shrill voice called repeatedly for "Daddy" and squealed over a pair of ladybug galoshes.

"Maeve, put them back. You have boots at home."

Erin's shoulder's stiffened and she pivoted to face the pharmacist counter again, snatching a magazine off the rack and bringing it to her face. There was only one child named Maeve in Jasper Falls, and she belonged to the one man she didn't need to see.

"Excuse me, do you know where the children's liquid cold syrup is? You only have the tablets on the shelf."

Erin shut her eyes as he approached the counter.

"Try the endcap on aisle four," the pharmacist said.

"Thanks." She could feel the moment he set eyes on her. "Do you always read magazines with your eyes closed?"

Looking up at his familiar blue eyes, she forced a smile. "Finnegan, how are you?"

"Same old, same old. One kid's got a cold, the others are coming down with sniffles, a blizzard's on its way, and the town's fresh out of salt, shovels, and bread. Just another winter day in Jasper Falls."

She glanced down at the rosy-nosed little boy clinging to his side. Finn's hand casually stroked his strawberry-blond hair with such natural affection her heart ached. Her parents never touched her in such a way.

"How's Mallory?"

"She's great. How about you? I heard you're working at the hardware store now. Got any shovels over there?"

She blinked at his casual small talk. Had their friendship ended so long ago that he could somehow forget how toxic her home life was? Or had she truly hidden the truth from him that well?

Maybe it was just easier to overlook the things people didn't comfortably see? After all, Ward Montgomery was a beloved figure in their town, always there with last-minute salt, shovels, and that goddamn crumb cake that made the town believe he was a normal man.

She gave a tight-lipped smile. "I'll put a shovel aside for you."

Thankfully, the pharmacist reappeared with her dad's prescription. The sleeping pills were the only thing keeping her sane—not that she needed help sleeping but, if she expected to have any sort of peace, her father needed the pills.

"Great, I'll swing by later today and grab it. Thanks."

"Daddy, can we get candy?" the little girl, Maeve, called.

"No, put it back and don't touch anything else." He turned back to Erin. "Hey, my, uh, cousin, Giovanni, is back in town. He's performing at O'Malley's tonight if you want to stop by. We're all gonna be there."

She frowned, once again worried for his memory. He spoke as if she was a part of the old gang, which they both knew she wasn't. Realizing he was probably just being polite, she ignored the awkward invite and turned the topic to his cousin—a founding member of the anti-Erin club. "Is Giovanni in a band?"

"No," Finn chuckled. "He's trying his hand at standup. He's been doing open-mic-nights around the city and apparently, he's pretty funny."

Giovanni Mosconi always thought he was funnier than he actually was. When they were in high school he used to pick on her constantly. Erin hated hanging out with him when she and Finn were dating. He could make a joke out of a broom, saying something like, "Hey Erin, I found your bitch stick. Don't you need this to get home?"

His jokes never struck her as funny, just cruel. "Is he any good?"

Finn shrugged. "I haven't seen him perform yet. I'm sure he'll get a few laughs. He has no shame."

She first thought how fun it would be to watch Giovanni humiliate himself. He'd spent plenty of time embarrassing her when they were kids. But her second thought was how lonely it would be to visit O'Malley's and sit alone while her entire graduating class watched the show with spouses.

"I'll see if I have plans."

"Come on, Erin. Come out. You can sit with us."

She couldn't do that. As much as she appreciated Finn's offer, his family was not a fan of hers.

"I'll try." Picking up the medicine, she smiled. "I have to get back to the store."

"Okay. Tell Ward I said hey."

Her brow pinched as she left the pharmacy. She'd never understand why so many of the locals cared about her father. It was pathetic how many people could be bought off with a few measly cinnamon-flavored crumbs and a pot of shitty coffee.

When she returned to the hardware store, the bell over the front door jingled. Her father's gruff voice carried from the back as he explained how to replace a drain washer to a customer.

"You're gonna need a pair of channel locks to unscrew the stem once you get the knob off, but that's simple. After you get the stem out, slip the new washer into place, and put it back together again. That should clear up that leaky faucet for you."

"Thanks, Ward. Can you point me to the channel locks?"

"Right this way. Doesn't your husband have a tool set?"

Erin rolled her eyes. No matter how much of a charmer he could be, his view of women and their limited value sometimes seeped through.

The woman chuckled. "I like to have my own tools."

Erin's dad grumbled. "Well, here you are."

As he walked her to the front of the store, Erin recognized the beautiful woman as Perrin Harris, now Perrin King, one of the new owners of O'Malley's. She rang up the order and smiled tightly as she swiped her credit card.

Erin tore off the receipt and stuffed the washer and channel locks into a bag. "Have a nice day."

The woman's eyes lifted and something like distrust danced in her stare. "Thanks." She turned to leave and yelled, "Thanks, Ward."

"Make sure you take a slice of cake on your way out."

Perrin paused at the coffee station and crooned over the dessert dish. She sliced a piece of cake onto a napkin and took a bite, humming happily as she left the store. Erin's molars locked.

She once read an article about the treatment of confined cattle in the US. The article claimed people consumed the cows' depression. Yet, everyone smiled and hummed whenever they ate that miserable, godforsaken crumb cake she made each day.

"Did you get my pills?"

"They're in my purse."

"Took you long enough."

"Finnegan McCullough's stopping by for a shovel later. I told him we'd put one aside for him."

"So long as he knows he's paying for it. We're not running a soup kitchen. Go unload the pallets in the back."

Glad to get out of his proximity, she went out back where the pallets of salt were dropped off this morning. She carefully cut away the wrapping and carried one forty-pound bag inside at a time, forming a tidy stack along the back wall.

In towns like theirs, where the snow amounted to drifts the height of men and the winters were long, people tended to hoard the salt supply so they only put a small amount of bags on the floor at a time. Her shoulders ached once she moved half the supply.

Her fingers grew numb as she hoisted the chilled bags onto her shoulder. Gray clouds swathed the sky and the air wore the metallic scent of snow. With the door propped open, the back room was as cold as a meat locker. Good thing she moved the bags inside now because she already spotted a few flurries dancing in the air.

"I guess we're heating the outside now." Her father kicked the wedge out from under the door and the heavy metal slammed shut.

He scowled at the wall lined with salt bags. "Are you blind or just plain illiterate? That's not what we ordered."

She shifted her weight under the last bag, shivering from the cold. "What are you talking about?"

"This isn't the salt we get. Who let them deliver this shit?"

"I did, and it's not shit." She shoved past him and dropped the last sack on the pile. "It's easier on the pavement and better for the environment." As she turned, her head knocked back, pinching her neck, and a burst of white light popped behind her eye.

She crashed into the stack of salt bags, landing on her knees. Her frozen hand instinctively rushed to her cheek and she cursed.

She should have expected the slap the moment she argued with him, but he still caught her off guard on occasion. Her cheek blazed, the skin stinging and her bone throbbing. Tears rushed to her eyes, an emotionless reflex at this point, but one she couldn't help.

"You don't make those decisions around here."

Uncaring about the goddamn salt order, she gently touched her fingers to her face, inspecting for blood but not seeing any. "What is wrong with you?" she growled, shoving herself off the cement floor.

"I gave you a job and you can't follow the simplest instructions. Return the order and order what I told you to order in the first place."

"It's already snowing. People will need?—"

Her words cut off as he shot her a threatening glare. "Get a refund or I'm taking it out of your check."

Just then, the front bell rang. Her father tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. " Go!" he barked, and she rushed back to the store as he muttered something about girls being useless.

Rubbing her cheek, she blotted her eyes and looked at the mirrors posted in the corners of the store, spotting a flannel-covered customer toward the front.

She rounded the corner and came to a jolting stop. "Finn."

He smiled at her. "I dropped the kids off but came back for the shovel. Flurries started and now they're predicting more than two feet of snow."

She couldn't form a word, so she just led him to the display in the back and handed him one.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

He sniffed the tobacco-tinged air. "Your dad around?"

"In the back." He followed her to the front counter and she punched the order into the register, waiting for him to swipe his card and avoiding any eye contact.

"Erin, you sure you're okay? Your cheek's red."

"I was outside unloading salt bags. It's cold." She met his challenging glare with one of her own because experience taught her people rarely question the glaringly obvious. They all wanted to appear concerned, but no one truly wanted to get involved.

As expected, he backed off and swiped his card. "Come out tonight. You look like you could use a few laughs."

Like a night at O'Malley's would accomplish that. "I'll try."

"Try. That's all I ask."

As soon as he left, she reached into her purse and pulled out a compact mirror, wincing at the bruise already forming on her cheek. She should have never moved back home or accepted this job, but it was all she could find.

That's a lie.

She could have toughed it out. Looked for work outside of Jasper Falls, found a cheap, efficiency apartment until she saved up more money for something better. There had to be something wrong with a person who refused to abandon an abusive parent even in adulthood.

Why was she still here? She should have gotten out of this awful town years ago like Harrison had. But she stayed, and her life had gotten progressively more miserable with every passing day.

Somehow, walking away from her father felt like accepting defeat. It seemed like her failure as much as his. What was wrong with her? Why did no one like her? Her mother had left without ever looking back and, no matter how much she tried to help or impress her dad, he felt nothing but contempt for her. What sort of twisted, victimized thinking convinced her to stick around to be treated like that?

He was never going to change. He was never going to see her the way other parents saw their children. Harrison was right. She should have gotten out of there years ago.

She didn't have much in terms of a savings account, but her car was finally paid off and she had a little money in the bank. It was enough to figure something out because she was damn sure she didn't want to work at the hardware store or live under her dad's roof anymore.

Erin left work and threw a pot roast in the crock pot with some carrots and potatoes when she got home, unsure why she bothered. Dad would be eating alone tonight.

Her cheek was throbbing, and when she opened the freezer looking for ice for her swollen face, the chilled bottle of vodka caught her eye. She snatched the bottle and filled a tall glass, topping off the last inch with a splash of iced tea, just enough to turn the liquid brown but still clear enough to read the paper through.

She wrapped a tea towel around a handful of ice and pressed it to her face, carrying her drink to her bedroom. By the time her cup was half empty and her cheek numb, she found herself sorting through her clothes and searching for something to wear. An hour and a second drink later, she stumbled out of her bedroom in a sleek red dress, hair done and heels on.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"To town."

"It's snowing. The town's closed."

"Well, the bar's open."

He glared at her from where he stood in the kitchen by the counter. "You look as though you've already had a few."

"Then I'll walk. Either way, I'm getting the hell out of here."

"You're gonna walk to town in those shoes. You've always been the dumb kind of blonde. Why don't you use your head for a change, missy?"

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?"

A chill cut through the house. "What did you just say to me?"

She quickly grabbed her coat and keys. "I said I'm going out."

He slammed the silverware drawer. "Stupid girl, everything's closed!"

"Well, I'd rather spend the night out in the cold than around you."

He lunged after her but she ran to the door. "Go then! And do me a favor and don't come back! Go find someone else to support your lazy ass, you ungrateful bitch! You're just like your mother! Useless!"

She bolted out the front door, nearly slipping on the snow-dusted walk as she covered her ears. No matter how old she was, his words could always hurt her.

He charged onto the porch steps, shouting cruel accusations as she rushed into her car and locked the doors. Sucking back a sob, she dropped the keys, her hands shaking as she grappled for them.

"You're dead to me!"

Erin stabbed the keys into the ignition and sped out of the icy driveway. Her car slipped onto the snow-covered road. Stripping the gears, she shifted into drive and gunned it toward town, a sob choking out of her chest as she sped away.

All she had was the clothes on her back and the items in her purse. No place to call home and nowhere left to go, but she was too tipsy and fed up to waste time on regrets.