Ditched (34 page)

That wasn’t the only thing that had changed this past year.

There was a diamond ring in the nightstand, on Max’s side of the bed. It wasn’t a secret. He knew that I knew it was there. It had been there for a while. Villette had offered her mother’s ring to Max to give to me. Max had been worried I wouldn’t want an antique. He insisted that I look at the ring first. I did. And I fell in love with it. He wasn’t ready to give it to me yet. He said he wanted to wait for the perfect moment, sometime when I wasn’t expecting it. He still sometimes liked to remind me that we didn’t need to rush anything. And that was just fine. The ring wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Max.

I hadn’t
been able to get into Sapphire Bay University winter semester. It worked out okay because I took a full load of general education classes online from Chamberlain University, again. I
had
gotten in for the upcoming fall, though. I would be picking away at my journalism degree but to be honest, I wasn’t sure it held my heart anymore. I’d been working with Max at the winery. He’d decided the gift shop was not where he wanted to be. He was more interested in production and distribution.

At
Villette’s suggestion, I’d started working in the gift shop instead. My jewelry was doing well and since I worked most days, I was able to take special orders. Max’s grandparents had also let me help with ordering new products. They were hoping to pull in a younger crowd so I was thrilled when they let me help decide on new inventory. I was falling more deeply in love with every aspect of the winery and the vineyard every day.

To my surprise, I had the most fun when I was allowed to help with planning and organizing weddings held at Villette Vineyards.
I had fun setting out the tables, putting up the decorations and lining up the catering. I was enjoying it so much that I had been tossing around the idea of letting my journalism degree slide so I could concentrate on these new elements of my new life. Working with Max full-time someday held a great deal of appeal.

I wasn’t sure about that yet
. And that, I realized, was okay too. I didn’t have to have my future entirely decided. I was young. I had options that I never even knew existed until Max showed them to me.

My parents had come for a visit in the middle of January. They’d gotten along fabulously with Max’s grandparents. I was working at trying to convince them that they should consider
Sapphire Bay for their retirement days. Mom was set on Florida. Dad was still partial to Arizona. But after their visit, I thought I could sway them eventually. I was still working on that one.

“Just in time,” Max said as we made our way around the house. We climbed onto the steps and took our places on the porch swing.

“It’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I said as I watched the sun slip completely out of sight.

“I agree,” Max said. When I glanced at him, he wasn’t watching the sun. He was watching me.

I gave him a nudge as I laughed.

“You,” he said as he poked a finger my way, “need to learn to take a compliment.”

“You,” I said as I poked a finger back at him, “make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

He smiled slowly. “Do I?”

I nodded as I ran my fingers along the charms of the bracelet I never took off. “Always.”

“You’re still happy with me?” he asked.

At one time, I thought that things with Max would just get better and better. I’d been right. I couldn’t imagine anything better than falling in love with your best friend. “I’m happier every day. And more in love with you every day, too.”

He pulled me in for a kiss. It was gentle, unhurried and sweet. We had all the time in the world.

We had the promise of forever in our hearts and in the nightstand drawer. While at one time, I may have needed more, this was perfect. I had everything I wanted for now. I had my future before me and it was bright, beautiful and wide open. Most importantly, Max was at the center of it all. What more could a girl ask for?

The End

Twisted
by Amity Hope

**Excerpt**

Chapter 1

“Remy? I think something bad has happened,” I whisper into the phone. “There’s a cop at the door.”

I can see the patrol car in the driveway. I can see the uniformed officer through the gauzy curtain as he rings the doorbell. I duck behind the wall, into the hallway, sure he can’t see me. My hands are trembling and my stomach is clenching in upon itself so tightly I want to double over.

“Let him in,” Remy calmly orders. She sounds groggy. It’s the middle of the day but I’ve pulled her from a deep sleep. My words are like a mental slap in the face. I can almost hear her struggling to become coherent. “Keep me on the phone.”

I hesitate, feeling frozen. Officers at the door are never there for good news. Never. The doorbell rings again and a terrified sob escapes my lips. This can’t be happening again.

“Maya,
answer it,” Remy commands, firm this time. “Just pretend I’m there with you. And don’t hang up!”

“Okay,” I whimper into the mouthpiece, not feeling comforted because my imagination isn’t that good. Remy lives five hours away. I will my feet to move.

It was this memory that completely preoccupied my mind as I pedaled along. Faster and faster until I felt I was a blur, melding with the landscape. I didn’t see the car until it had already rolled through the stop sign. I saw it as it rolled toward me. A big, light blue boat of a car. It nicked my back tire. I remember being propelled over the handlebars, toward the asphalt. I had just enough time to shriek and try to cover my face. That’s it. That’s all I remember of the fall.

I felt someone tugging at my arm, a voice saying words I couldn’t comprehend just yet.

When I managed to open my eyes into slits the sunlight was blinding. It caused a throbbing sensation to ricochet through my brain. I groaned and tried to put a hand over my face.

“Can you sit up? Are you okay?”

The questions baffled me for a moment but then I nodded. I felt a pair of hands grip my shoulders, trying to assist me. I scrunched my eyes up to try to block some of the glare. I looked around. I was si
tting in the middle of the road. My bike was on its side several feet away.

“Did that car hit me?” I asked, aghast, even though I knew it had.

“Yeah, the lady looked like she was a hundred and three. She could barely see over the steering wheel. I don’t think she even noticed. Probably thought she hit a pothole or something.”

I pulled my mind from my current predicament and looked, really looked for the first time, at my rescuer.

He was about my age, seventeen, maybe a little older. He had an angular jaw line with cheekbones most girls would die for. His hair was dark, almost black and due for a cut. Most of it was hidden under a blue baseball cap but some stuck out and was hanging in his face as he leaned over me. His skin was deeply tanned causing his grayish-blue eyes to contrast so startlingly that it almost took my breath away.  He had a small scar through the left side of his upper lip and another one across his cheek, right under the cheekbone.

“Another car is coming,” he warned. “Are you able to stand?”

“I think so,” I replied, noticing then that my knees were bleeding. I had a scrape the size of a dollar bill down my right calf.

I started to move but I wasn’t quick enough. He hoisted me to my feet without so much as a grunt for his effort. He quickly led me to a bench near the sidewalk and then jogged to the middle of the road to retrieve my bike. I was happy to see it looked like it was still in working order as he hurried it along.

The car rolled past and the street was empty again.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet or something?” he reprimanded me.

He kicked out the kickstand and nestled my bike near the bench beside me.

I wanted to argue that I never wore a helme
t. But after what just happened I decided I might want to rethink that. I shrugged. “I don’t usually ride my bike. I prefer to run. But I was just checking out the town…”

“Is there someone you can call to come get you?” he asked. He was standing near the edge of the bench, looking down at me, appraising my injuries. I noticed he was tall, close to six feet, give or take a few inches either way. He wasn’t one of those gangly high school boys. He was nicely filled out with lots of lean muscle.

I shook my head, pulling myself away from my very inappropriate ogling. “What?” I asked, struggling to remember the question. “Oh, yeah. No, I don’t have anyone to call.”

He looked away from me, glancing around the park behind him. I wondered if he was trying to find someone else to help. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed, assessing me again, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I could call my sister, but I don’t want to wake her.” Those amazing eyes flickered with the slightest bit of a question. “She’s a nurse. She works the night shift at the hospital so she sleeps most of the day,” I explained.

I knew Remy would come get me in a heartbeat. But I felt like enough of a burden to her already. Not that she had ever said or done anything to make me feel that way. But still. “I’ll be fine. I mean, I am fine.”

Besides, my bike wouldn’t fit in her car. That would just give her one more hassle to have to deal with.

My knees were starting to throb. I noticed I’d torn the skin off an elbow too. I gingerly felt the growing bump on the side of my head. It was roughly the size of a golf ball.

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly. He looked conflicted. “You were knocked out. What if you have a concussion or something?” He scanned the open lawn of the park behind us. There was no one to see. We were alone at this end, so near to the edge I was seated on the only bench in sight. The trees thickened to the south of us. Even the paved running trail that followed the river was devoid of any runners or families strolling along.

He knelt down and unzipped the red backpack he’d been carrying. It looked full to bulging. He rummaged around for a bit, tilting it from side to side. He pulled out a bottle of water and some napkins. He wetted a napkin and handed it to me.

“Maybe you want to wipe some of the blood off? See how deep the cuts are?” he suggested.

“Thanks,” I said, taking i
t from him. I wiped at my knees. I was feeling a little less disoriented now. I was starting to feel far more embarrassed. I didn’t look at him as I scrubbed away the stuff that was already starting to clot. The cuts weren’t deep. I figured I’d survive.

“Well, if you’re sure you’ll be okay...” he said, letting his words trail off. He looked nervous
as he shuffled his feet just a bit.

“I was actually on my way home. It’s just a few more blocks that way.” I motioned to the direction I’d been headed.

He scrunched up his face in genuine puzzlement this time. “You live here? In Beaumont?” He grabbed his backpack. He was still looking at me quizzically as he backed away just a bit.

“Um, yeah,” I replied. I was
puzzled myself by his odd behavior. Or maybe he just couldn’t wait to get away. I must look a mess with blood oozing and crusting. I could feel pebbles and dirt in my disheveled hair. A few strands were sticking to my sweaty face. “I just moved here. Or I guess I should say I just moved back. I’m living with my sister now but I grew up here.”

He nodded as though this possibly made sense to him.

“I’m Maya, by the way.” I just realized we hadn’t made introductions.

His eyes widened just slightly. In recognition? He paused for a moment, processing what I told him.

“Maya Anderson?” I wasn’t sure if he was asking me or telling me.

I nodded. “And you are?”

He looked at me and shook his head just slightly, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Late for work,” he replied as he blew out a sigh. With that he took off toward the parking lot at a pace that would rival the little old ladies that faithfully speed walk around the mall.

“Well, it was nice to meet you!” I shouted after him. He didn’t look back.

I scrubbed the blood off my arm and leaned over to scrub my knees one more time. The beginnings of a major headache were just setting in. I swear I could almost feel my brain sliding from side to side, crashing painfully off the walls of my skull with each movement I made.

After a few moments I stood. Home was only a few blocks away. I could be there in a matter of minutes. I turned toward my bike and kicked something. A book. I picked it up. It was a thick, heavy hardcover.
It
, by Stephen King. The book was massive with a tattered receipt marking the page almost three quarters of the way through. I noted a sticker on the front of the plastic book jacket. It was a library book. I was certain it was his. I looked toward the parking lot but he’d already disappeared from sight.