Hitchhiker
Authors: Stacy Borel
Copyright © 2015 by Stacy Borel
Cover and Interior Design by Kassi Cooper
Editing by Jenny Sims, Editing4indies
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1511932097
ISBN-10: 1511932090
I wanted to take a moment to thank each and every one of you. I know that it has been a year since I have released anything. And I know most of you were anxiously awaiting the release of the next book in The Core Four Series. It was a very hard decision for me to put it on the back burner while I worked on
Hitchhiker
. It means the world to me that you have stuck with me through this time, and took a chance on a book that I HAD to put first. It’s a very personal book, and as I wrote it, it became one that tested me to my very core. I hope you love it.
“The heart sees what’s invisible to the eye.”
- H. Jackson Brown Jr.
IT WAS FUNNY HOW LIFE
took you through different twists and turns. We didn’t grow up as children thinking, “When I grow up, I want to be in a relationship where it seemed like a fairy tale, but sadly I’m undervalued and pushed aside. Then I think I want to find a stranger on the side of the road and fall in love with him and let him take me down a dark and dangerous path that could potentially destroy me and make me mentally unstable.” Could you just imagine if we knew then what we know now, after having lived through hell? What paths we would have avoided just to prevent ourselves from dealing with the struggle and heartache? Would you still pick the same course so you could feel it, just once? To know what it was really like to love someone with your very essence and have it ripped away? The burn, the loss, the grief, the dry crusted tears on your face? The earth-shattering moment when you knew you were well and truly gone and never coming back? Or would you choose safety—the known, monotonous days—and comfort?
I think if I’d been given those options all those years ago, I would have picked the second one for obvious reasons. As humans, we crave safety and routine. However, having lived through the moments when I thought my next breath would be my last without him by my side . . . I’d pick the pain. Why? Because it was real. As if I had a choice. I fought a hard and valiant battle to deny the lust and passion. I didn’t step into it with my eyes closed. Oh no, they were wide open and saw the road signs that glared in my face.
Stop.
Dead End.
No Outlet.
Not fucking happening.
You’re fooling yourself.
This will kill you.
You see, my heart knew what it wanted. It claimed him. The law of attraction stuck a big huge marker on him, and I no longer had a choice in the matter. That battle that I fought—it wasn’t with him, it was with myself. I tried to go back and remember what it was like before I met him. Who I was, how I was, how I spoke, the patterns of my life. There was no remembering anything. That girl was gone. The girl I am now . . . well, I am still falling down a rabbit hole. And this bitch is a bottomless pit.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT
to do this?” my best friend, Sydney, asked me on the other end of the cell phone line as I loaded the back of my Land Rover with the only bag I’d packed. I didn’t want to take much with me. Just the clothes on my back and a few essentials that I knew I couldn’t live without. In other words, my lip-gloss, mascara, a couple of changes of underwear, and my wallet.
I’d known her since our very first day of kindergarten. She came up to me in the cafeteria and asked me if I liked chocolate milk. To which I replied, “Duh, ever
yone likes chocolate.” I thought she was utterly crazy for even asking me such a question. In fact, I went home and told my mom that anybody who questioned the goodness of chocolate milk was not a happy person. Regardless of how odd I thought Sydney was, that day solidified a friendship that had lasted until now.
I shut the back passenger door and turned to face my colossal house; a house that was way too big for just two people. “Yep! I need to get out. I can’t keep doing this, Syd. I’m falling apart.” I was holding the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“I wish you’d tell me why you’re doing this.”
I shut my eyes, sucking in a breath and slowly releasing it. “I can’t explain it.” And I really couldn’t.
“Will you at least call me when you stop tonight?” I could hear the desperation in her voice, but I couldn’t muster the ability to care.
Sighing, I said, “No. Give me a couple of days. I promise I’ll check in when I figure out where I’m headed, okay?”
She sniffled. “I’m worried about you, Chandler. You’ve never done anything like this.”
Sydney was right. I’d never done anything like this, but I also never thought this was where I’d be in my life. Living in a house that was full of things . . . things that held absolutely no value to me whatsoever, especially a relationship that was slowly bleeding me out.
“I’ll be fine. Just, please, don’t worry about me. I’ll call you soon.”
I had hung up before she had a chance to protest any longer. Sydney had no idea how bad it had gotten. She only knew what I’d told her, which wasn’t much. I kept a lot of things to myself. If I told people how I was really feeling inside, they would have thought I was crazy. And maybe I was. I was suffocating in my ten thousand square foot house. I was not saying that I wasn’t happy at one point. But how I got from point A to point B was what confused me. I was no longer the girl who went with the flow and smiled at everything. I was a stranger living in a body that I recognized but wasn’t mine. I had disconnected so much that it was as if my soul stood outside of my body, waiting for me to realize that this was who I was now. I sighed in frustration.
It was time to go.
With nothing else to put in the Rover, I looked back at the house that I owned and once loved but now hated. I didn’t know when I was coming back or if I even wanted to. Should the thought of not coming back bother me? It didn’t. Was there something wrong with me? I didn’t know. I was living a life that most would kill to have. Well, those people could fuck right off. They had no clue the lie I was living.
Happiness.
What the fuck did that word even mean anyway?
My eyes drifted over to the handprints that were in the cement leading to the first step. When it was being poured, I remembered pushing my hands into the wet, thick, gritty substance. I’d taken a stick and carved my name under my palms. It was my way of making my permanent mark. I never wanted to leave this place. It was to be my forever. A place that I’d live in for the rest of my days, the place I’d raise my babies. It no longer represented that for me, I realized, as I felt a single tear slide down my cheek.
Traitor.
I told myself that I wouldn’t cry anymore. This house and all the memories in it held the last of my tears. Or so I thought. Swiping it away with the back of my hand, I twisted around to my vehicle and climbed in the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I put it in drive. As I pulled away, I tried to recognize any sensation that would make me believe that I was making a mistake. That I should turn around and go back home and pretend that none of this ever happened. Instead, I pressed harder on the gas pedal and sped further down the street.
I didn’t tell anyone besides Sydney that I was leaving. I’d given her specific instructions not to say a single word to anyone, no matter what she was offered or who threatened her. This was going to be a real test of our friendship. I didn’t leave a note, and I gave no indication that I had planned to do this. Well, mostly because I hadn’t planned it. She didn’t even know where I was going. Frankly, I didn’t know where I was going, either. A couple of days ago, I was sitting on my chaise lounge reading a book, and it hit me. I glanced up at the one thousand thread count sheets covering my California king bed and the bedroom suite that I just had to have, and all I could think about was how unhappy I had become.
