Chasing the Tide
Page 27
“Maybe I will. I’ll see you,” I cut her off, dismissing her.
Reggie stood there for a minute more, bouncing nervously on her feet. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” she said finally before leaving.
Julie shook her head. “I hope you won’t go back to hanging out with the likes of Regina Fisher and Shane Nolan,” she admonished.
I watched Reggie as she walked through Darla’s, bumping into customers and stumbling on her feet. Looking at her was like looking at the person I could have been. The person I was fated to become before Flynn had come back into my life.
It was a scary picture.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied distractedly, still watching Reggie.
Then I looked at the time on my phone and realized Flynn was probably already home. His class had finished just after lunchtime and he had planned to make it an early day.
“I should probably get going,” I told Julie, slinging my purse over my shoulder and getting to my feet.
Julie snagged the last donut and popped it in her mouth. She reached out to give me another hug and I returned it without hesitation.
“I’m so proud of you, Ellie. I look at you and remember that little girl who used to drag that ragged stuffed dog everywhere. You were so angry all the time. I really worried about you. But now look at what you’ve done with your life!” Julie’s eyes started to fill with tears and I chuckled uneasily, always uncomfortable with demonstrations of emotion.
“Yeah, look at me! Unemployed!” I joked, only half meaning it.
Julie swatted my arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a college graduate. That’s an amazing achievement. Four years ago did you ever see yourself here?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”
Julie grinned. “But I did. I always believed in you. I’m just glad you finally started believing in yourself.”
I flushed red. I had never been the sort to take compliments well.
“And you’re with Flynn. And I hope you can be happy together. Because you deserve to have a family of your own,” Julie continued.
Her words rang in my head.
A family of my own.
Flynn and I had never talked much about the future. Things like marriage and kids. I never thought of myself as the maternal sort. I had never professed a need for the traditional trappings of matrimony. I used to scoff at the idea. But now I realized that I did want all those things.
With Flynn.
Here we were, living together, and we had never really discussed what the future held for us.
Did I see myself married to Flynn?
My mind twisted and turned and thought about a world where I was Mrs. Hendrick. And it was a world I knew that I wanted to be a reality.
I wanted to marry Flynn.
I wanted to have his children. I wanted to have that bright and shiny life full of wedding anniversaries and birthday parties.
I wanted everything that I had never had.
“I’ll see you later, Julie,” I said, giving her arm a squeeze before leaving the café and hurrying home to the man who I saw in every vision of my future.
Chapter Eight
-Ellie-
“Don’t ever touch my stuff. If you do, I’ll know it and I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
I glared at the bitch standing in my doorway, acting as though she owned the place.
I gave her a once over and curled my lip in disgust. “Why in the fuck would I want any of your trashy crap?” I sneered, turning my back on her and pulled the rest of my clothes out of my duffle bag. I didn’t have much. Just a few pairs of jeans and some shirts. I had learned to travel light because I never stayed anywhere long enough to acquire stuff.
“You think you’re so tough. We’ll see how tough you are once Mr. Beretti gets home,” the girl teased maliciously.
I turned around and faced the girl again. She was really pretty with long, dark hair and blue eyes. She was thin without being a waif. She dressed in a way I had never been able to pull off. Stylish and attractive. Most of my wardrobe was bought with the idea of covering up my overly large boobs and womanly hips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. The girl walked into my new bedroom and yanked on the collar of my shirt, pulling it down so that it exposed my boobs.
“Damn, you’re huge. Mr. Beretti’s gonna love those,” the girl smirked, though I saw something that looked like fear in her eyes. It terrified me.
“So the foster dad likes young girls I take it,” I deduced, ripping my shirt from her hands and straightening it. Just great. I had had my fair share of overly touchy foster dads in the last few years. As I got older, the bolder they became. But I had learned a few tricks to protect myself ever since living with Mr. and Mrs. Owens when I was nine.
The beautiful girl in front of me tucked her hair behind her ears and leveled me with a hard look that told me she too had been forced to protect herself on more than one occasion.
“You’re pretty. He likes the pretty ones,” she said softly, her badass act disappearing completely.
I sat down on my bed, a lump in my stomach. “Does he like you too?” I had to ask her.
She nodded. “He likes me a lot,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though scared that someone would hear her.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Dania. What about you?”
“I’m Ellie,” I said.
“How old are you?” I asked.
Reggie stood there for a minute more, bouncing nervously on her feet. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” she said finally before leaving.
Julie shook her head. “I hope you won’t go back to hanging out with the likes of Regina Fisher and Shane Nolan,” she admonished.
I watched Reggie as she walked through Darla’s, bumping into customers and stumbling on her feet. Looking at her was like looking at the person I could have been. The person I was fated to become before Flynn had come back into my life.
It was a scary picture.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied distractedly, still watching Reggie.
Then I looked at the time on my phone and realized Flynn was probably already home. His class had finished just after lunchtime and he had planned to make it an early day.
“I should probably get going,” I told Julie, slinging my purse over my shoulder and getting to my feet.
Julie snagged the last donut and popped it in her mouth. She reached out to give me another hug and I returned it without hesitation.
“I’m so proud of you, Ellie. I look at you and remember that little girl who used to drag that ragged stuffed dog everywhere. You were so angry all the time. I really worried about you. But now look at what you’ve done with your life!” Julie’s eyes started to fill with tears and I chuckled uneasily, always uncomfortable with demonstrations of emotion.
“Yeah, look at me! Unemployed!” I joked, only half meaning it.
Julie swatted my arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a college graduate. That’s an amazing achievement. Four years ago did you ever see yourself here?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”
Julie grinned. “But I did. I always believed in you. I’m just glad you finally started believing in yourself.”
I flushed red. I had never been the sort to take compliments well.
“And you’re with Flynn. And I hope you can be happy together. Because you deserve to have a family of your own,” Julie continued.
Her words rang in my head.
A family of my own.
Flynn and I had never talked much about the future. Things like marriage and kids. I never thought of myself as the maternal sort. I had never professed a need for the traditional trappings of matrimony. I used to scoff at the idea. But now I realized that I did want all those things.
With Flynn.
Here we were, living together, and we had never really discussed what the future held for us.
Did I see myself married to Flynn?
My mind twisted and turned and thought about a world where I was Mrs. Hendrick. And it was a world I knew that I wanted to be a reality.
I wanted to marry Flynn.
I wanted to have his children. I wanted to have that bright and shiny life full of wedding anniversaries and birthday parties.
I wanted everything that I had never had.
“I’ll see you later, Julie,” I said, giving her arm a squeeze before leaving the café and hurrying home to the man who I saw in every vision of my future.
Chapter Eight
-Ellie-
“Don’t ever touch my stuff. If you do, I’ll know it and I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
I glared at the bitch standing in my doorway, acting as though she owned the place.
I gave her a once over and curled my lip in disgust. “Why in the fuck would I want any of your trashy crap?” I sneered, turning my back on her and pulled the rest of my clothes out of my duffle bag. I didn’t have much. Just a few pairs of jeans and some shirts. I had learned to travel light because I never stayed anywhere long enough to acquire stuff.
“You think you’re so tough. We’ll see how tough you are once Mr. Beretti gets home,” the girl teased maliciously.
I turned around and faced the girl again. She was really pretty with long, dark hair and blue eyes. She was thin without being a waif. She dressed in a way I had never been able to pull off. Stylish and attractive. Most of my wardrobe was bought with the idea of covering up my overly large boobs and womanly hips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. The girl walked into my new bedroom and yanked on the collar of my shirt, pulling it down so that it exposed my boobs.
“Damn, you’re huge. Mr. Beretti’s gonna love those,” the girl smirked, though I saw something that looked like fear in her eyes. It terrified me.
“So the foster dad likes young girls I take it,” I deduced, ripping my shirt from her hands and straightening it. Just great. I had had my fair share of overly touchy foster dads in the last few years. As I got older, the bolder they became. But I had learned a few tricks to protect myself ever since living with Mr. and Mrs. Owens when I was nine.
The beautiful girl in front of me tucked her hair behind her ears and leveled me with a hard look that told me she too had been forced to protect herself on more than one occasion.
“You’re pretty. He likes the pretty ones,” she said softly, her badass act disappearing completely.
I sat down on my bed, a lump in my stomach. “Does he like you too?” I had to ask her.
She nodded. “He likes me a lot,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though scared that someone would hear her.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Dania. What about you?”
“I’m Ellie,” I said.
“How old are you?” I asked.
