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My Only Regret

By: BrokenGlass



It looked like rain. Great. Damn you Tom Summers! You and your lies! It is not sunny with a gentle breeze. It is chilly with swirling dark clouds and a considerable squall. Weatherman my foot! You get me all excited for a nice day and look what I get. Freaking storm clouds. Christian better make this worth my while. He better propose. If I make another trip up her for nothing hell will break loose.

AHHHH finally! My exit. MINE! Oh joy, oh rapture. GOD yes! No, NO! GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU FUCKING TRUCKER! I sped into the exit ramp affectively cutting him off. He honks and I flip him to bird. Yes! SIX HOURS OVER, DONE! HA-HA! I rolled the window down letting the cool mountain air fill the car and my lungs. Cold and crisp and sweet; I nearly cried. I was a giddy with relief. I hate driving though the mountains. I have terrible luck and I just wait for that popped tire. 

The borough of Trent Summit smiled at me. I mean really smiled. The place was absolutely charming. Victorian houses nestled upon delicately rolling hills and evergreen forests. Main Street with its flowery boutiques and family owned businesses. The little tots with their book bags bouncing as they run off the school bus to meet mommy in her curlers and robe. It was, in a way, good to be back. I'm a city gal, plain and simple I come with all that it implies. I hate bugs, (I mean I HATE them) dirt is dirty, yay for stable electricity, go city water, party equals high heels and wine not a tractor and a six-pack. My soon-to-be-fiancée teases that I'm high maintenance. He is incorrect; I'm civilized. I was born and raised in small middle class town not far from here. I grew up, I got a degree, I got out. Just because I prefer go to a gallery opening instead of cow tipping does not make me high maintenance.

I turned onto Oak Way and made my way up his very steep hill. Also known as Hell if you drive a stick like myself. So up, up I go and around the corner to adjacent Caliber Street, I park six houses in at a tri-color Victorian. It's a warm yellow, with white trim and blue shutters. Lovely. I hit the E-brake and enjoy the silence. Finally. Home. Well not for me. I mean Christian wants to keep his family home, for sort of Vacation House and while I understand the sentiment I refuse to make this trip annually. I step out, carefully. His drive is chipped and the LAST thing I want to do after that burly-ass drive is break a heel. I grab my purse from the passenger seat and make my way up the stoop. The door is open and I let myself in.

"Christian, honey? I'm here." I call. The inside of his childhood home is as darling as the outside. Wood floors, crystal chandeliers, dark wood furniture, earth toned walls, its really quite stunning. Apparently it was more 'country' before his parents moved out and closer to their Antique store, that uh-hem specialized in Jewelry, I know how to pick 'em don't I, it gets better, wait. I'd only been here once before and the last time I didn't come inside. After Christian moved in he updated the place a little or in my opinion a lot. Painted and repaired, modernized the electronics and appliances, even did electrical and pipe work. Lets say he put a big old shiny penny into this place. I was against it but who am I to say? Soft voices and footfalls told me somebody was home. 

"I'll be right down, Dee." A male voice i.e. Christian, called. I tossed my purse onto the table in the middle of the foyer and lifted my left foot up to start undoing my heel. A second pair of feet coming down the stairs surprised me and left it on. As I straighten a pair of hiking boots with a tall, dark, and handsome man came into a view followed by a small mousy looking woman in red tennis shoes. Now I don't care who you are or how much you trust your man, when you come home, or wherever, and find him alone, even with a homely broad like this. You fall into some animalistic rage, or maybe a lesser more sensible variation of that. But, you're never just curious, or contemplative, you're ready to cut a bitch. Me? I did that rage thing. 

I was ready to beat Miss, overalls and ponytail with a rock. I sized her up. She was young, maybe three years my junior and pretty in a plain way. Upturned nose, average eyes, medium cheekbones, plump cheeks, little rounded chin. Something eased inside of me when I realized I was prettier then her, petty yes but fuck it, it made me feel better. She was a bit flushed, she better hope it was from the running. Her standard brown hair was drifting out of her pony a bit, and I say drifting because her hair was too thin to fall or burst out of anything. Her overalls where stained from what looking like oil. Her eyes widened when she saw me. Good.

Christian hadn't stopped at the base of the stairs like little Miss. Mouse; he kept a steady pace until we were toe to toe. I hadn't seen him in three months. He had been so busy with the damn house and keeping his parents business afloat. He was a dream. I mean that in more then his looks. Which are fabulous. He is all dark hair and darker eyes, healthy tan and healthier leaner body which, by the way, comes WELL equipped. But like I said its more then that, he's the American dream. From Trent Summit, son of a jeweler to New York City, poster boy for an international precious stones conglomerate.(I told you it got better.) His arms incased my waist and he brought his face down to mine.

"Hi." He said in that way of his that makes things low in me stir.

"Hi." I responded. He kissed me. A slight open-mouthed kiss with warm supple lips that made me forget all about little Miss. Mouse. I clung to him to the heat of his body and was reminded fully why I loved him. He set me back on my feet and ran his hands up and down my arms.

"You look great." He said appreciatively. Oh, I know I did. I'd dressed to kill. Say hello to little gold dress. It was a second skin coming only to mid thigh. Conservative square cut in the front; dipped so low in the back if I tugged on it you'd see my ass crack. Paired up with sexy black heels that used gold hoops holding the straps together. The only piece of jewelry was antique gold cross he'd given me on our third anniversary. The outfit wasn't as classy as I tried to wear it was meant for driving this man crazy. I had air-dried my hair, meaning that instead of sleek and straight it was a slightly curled and seductive just the way he liked it. I hadn't gone heavy on the makeup either, I really didn't need it, and because I'm a woman who thinks I look better with makeup on, I'll admit it took me years to say I didn't look 'sick' with no make-up. A little eyeliner, a little blush, a little gloss and I was good to go. Really. I was blessed with good skin, truly blessed because I know how rare that is. I was also blessed with an athletic figure, long lashed eyes and boobs. Little Miss. Mousy eat your heart out!

Speaking of her I gave Christian a telling jab and he swung us around. 

"Molly," Uh! She WOULD have a name like Molly. Look at me I'm cute and innocent, Molly. "This is Dillon Harper." The way he said it made my heart flutter. This was emphasized like they'd talked about me before, like I was his, which I was but the fact he pronounced it like that made me feel substantially better. "Dillon this is Molly Graves. Her dad is Alan, you know, my contractor," I nodded like I knew even though I had no idea, " and she's helping me out with some things around the house." Molly gave me a low wave of her hand and I smiled at her. A smile that was trusting and friendly. No way she saw the semi-hatred behind it. 

"Nice to meet you." I said.

"You to," she replied softly, he voice was just as wispy as she was. "I'll be off now Mr. Miller." And she started for the door, avoided my eyes and his, and flowed around the table.

"Thank-you Molly. I'll see you Tuesday!" he called. She threw him a slight smile and wave and was gone. He turned to me and smiled, then really saw me and hunger took over. He pressed me close and growled. 

"I've missed you." 

"I missed you to." I said. He kissed me again sweeping me up against him, devouring me. I kissed him back and we were lost. I don't know how long we stayed like that but I was on my back on the little round table and he was unbuckling his belt before a knock at the door brought us back down to earth. Good God, don't be his mother! He straightened himself and tried a polite smile.

"I've got your tiles." Said a very brisk, very strong, and very familiar voice. No, I was wrong it couldn't be. I turned ever so slightly on the table and took the deliveryman in. I almost fainted. My heart was lodged in my throat, hot and alive and impossible to swallow. It was beating wildly like a trapped thing; I couldn't believe my eyes. 

He stood at the open threshold with a clipboard, lopsided smile and his unvarying outfit. Plain white T, Wranglers and beat-up boots, he was even wearing his black baseball cap. This, this wasn't happening. THIS WASN'T HAPPENING. Joel. My Joel. Childhood friend and first kiss. My only regret. 

"Dill?" he said surprised, blonde eyebrows lifting. That was the last thing I remember. Oh yeah, and the sound of my head smacking tabletop.

To be continued...

My Only Regret Ch. 02



My head felt like a ball of pulsing cement. I know, what a crappy metaphor. But that's the first thing that popped into my heavy and throbbing mind . The second was. Where are my shoes? My feet where really cold and because of that I wasn't comfortable, though whatever I was laying on was very soft and the warm hand on my stomach made me feel good too. My eyes flew open and very blue eyes stared back at me. I ignored the pain the light brought and focused on those eyes. Blue like winter skies, a blue that sobered me up. A blue that belonged to a man I'd loved before I knew what love was.

"Joel?" I wanted to cry with the instant ache that assaulted my chest. 

"Dill." He said. His voice was very bland. My mind hurt with numbers, impossible numbers. When I left Wood Creek I thought I'd never see him again, the odds where against it. I wanted out, I wanted away and with that brought the slim possibility I'd ever look into his ice blue eyes again. It was so unreal, after all these years to be next to him again, his hand touching me. I couldn't process it. And how he came to be here. On my boyfriends doorstep, the same day I just happen to be here and in another mans arms? 

"I'm sorry." I croaked. He nodded; he understood what I was apologizing for. No other man, no other human being would have. Except this one, the one that knew me best. I was apologizing for half a lifetime of mistakes that I hadn't even added up in my head yet. I was apologizing for leaving Wood Creek, for leaving him, for being with Christian even though I shouldn't, for everything. I pressed a palm into my forehead. This wasn't happening!

I wanted to crawl away, run away, get out of Trent Summit. A plan formulated in my head. I'd get up and just leave. I'd go back to the city and I'd forget this happened. I'd call Christian and tell him ...what? I left because seeing Joel freaked me out. AH! Speaking of freak, did I pass out? I hadn't asked it out loud but Joel never needed me to speak to understand what I was thinking, he said my face spoke for me. He answered the question I hadn't asked,

"I'm guessing you did. Your-," he made a very strange face, "Miller guy," it sounded very forced, "Said he dropped your head, he's very... worried." His face was almost comically disgusted. I sighed. Christian didn't drop my head and even if he did I wouldn't have passed out because of it, it would have just hurt, which it did but you get my point.

"Where?" I asked sitting up.

"He's smoking a cigarette out back." He gave me a very hard look one your mother would give you if you picked out a skanky looking wedding dress, disappointment and disgust. My defensive side showed its ugly head,

"Hey! May I remind you, you smoked for two years! You weren't even legal!"

"I quit." Was all he said before he stood and headed for the door keys in hand. Was he talking about the cigarettes or me? Did I care? It would solve all my problems if he just left. Christian would never know about my past with Joel and I wouldn't...I wouldn't...what? Have to deal? I said stop before I could...stop myself. He turned. Face very angry. 

"What?" 

"I-uh...where are you going?" I asked standing. Ah my head! It weighed too much for this. He scoffed,

"New York and I'll come back as soon as I can." My heart dropped along with my stomach. I already told him I was sorry saying it again was pointless and pathetic. I didn't want to be here. My throat felt stiff and my eyes burned but I would not cry, I was stronger then that. My voice was empty when I asked,

"What are you doing here?" 

"I could ask you the same thing." He said.

"Then I'll answer you. Just ...answer me too, please." 

"I don't owe you an answer. You should know the answer." 

"How?" I said. He looked very pointedly at me. When I didn't get it he sighed angrily and threw his hat to the ground with an angle, it slid easily along the gleaming wood. His angry stare looked misplaced with all that disheveled blond hair. He looked like a very angry little boy. I glanced at the hat. Well-worn and black with white letters. Letters that read: Holt Stonework. Under that: Wood Creek, Clarkesville, Trent Summit, Wilk. Joel's fathers company serviced all the townships and Burroughs in the area. How had I forgotten? 

"You forgot." He said softly. He laughed but it was humorless. "That's funny 'cause I remember you telling me before you left that Masonry was a 'dead-beat job', just like Creek was a 'dead-beat town'. You said it even though you knew I was fifth generation stonemason, fifth generation native; my family built the damn church. We're proud blue-collar people, us Holts. You'd think someone would remember insulting us, you'd think someone would remember breakin' a eighteen year old kid's heart like 'at."

"I didn't mean it." I heard myself say softly. I felt very far away.

"Ha! You still fucking mean it. I saw the Mercedes, your doing pretty good these days aren't you? Your not blue-collar anymore." I looked up at him. "Oh right," he said arms spread. "Your where never blue-collar you were...what did you used to say-."

"Civilized." Someone said. My heart nearly choked me. Christian was leading on the staircase with his arms crossed. Joel bit his lip,

"Yeah, Civilized." He walked up to me and stared me in the eye. Such cold blue eyes, so angry and somewhere in there a glint sadness and hurt; I wanted to touch him to hold him, to say anything to him, but I was lost. I felt like someone had come up behind me and shook me until I couldn't feel the ground beneath my feet and I was seeing in stars and blurs. Come to think of it that's kind of what happened. Someone, something blind sighted me. He swooped down and picked up his hat, turned and walked away placing it on his head.

"I'll send someone out for the tile." He said, as was gone. I heard his footsteps on the walk and a little bit later his car start. I stood there for a while, kind of numb, kind of heavy. Then I put the balls of my palms in my eyes and cried for all I was worth, it hurt to cry, it hurt so bad, physically too. I shook with the force of my tears. Shook and cried until I couldn't stand anymore. Arms came around me and pressed me into something hard and warm, something that smelled like expensive cologne and man. I let him hold me. I didn't want him to but I let him.

**

We hadn't talked about it. We avoided it like the plague. I guess Christian was smart enough to know that there was nothing going on between me and Joel, at least anymore, and that to bring it up would be harder then letting me explain on my own time. He'd asked me if I was hungry and I had said yes. I took a nap, or I tried. I just kind of laid in bed with my memories until the pizza arrived. He ate, I nibbled, we showered and went to bed early. I didn't get a lot of sleep. Christian had worked all day and he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. I'd walked around the house and spent three hours on the porch gorging myself with the leftover pizza and listing to crickets chirp. I'd wondered, a lot, what Joel was doing, probably hating me. I'd wondered were his life had taken him. He knew where mine had, Mercedes and rich boyfriend. Did he have a girlfriend? Was he married? We knew a lot of people who got married as soon as they graduated High school, getting married at nineteen and twenty was the norm. Dread had cramped my stomach. We were twenty-seven, surely he had a family by now. Selfishly, I hoped he didn't.

I had gone off to bed and found it easier to sleep with a full tummy. When I woke up, Christian was in the shower. I got up and stretched. I was really stiff. Sex would have cured that but the minute Joel knocked on the door that was thrown at the window. I was in no mood anyway. Though my dreams we're hot enough to make me sweat through the night. At first it had been kid stuff. Joel and me, age ten, playing baseball in his backyard with all the other kids in town, I was a pretty good first basemen when Joel didn't try to take base by force. Joel and I, age fourteen, I caught him making out with Lisa Newberry behind her shed on Halloween and punched him right in the nose. Then it turned into Joel and me age sixteen kissing on the bed of his truck for the first real time. Joel and I, age eighteen, having sex for the first time, for either of us, on his bedroom floor one night after a movie. My dreams followed me down to the kitchen where I fixed myself some tea. I was completely lost in remembering the feel of Joel's young body when someone called from behind me,

"Morning baby." I jumped splashing hot tea down my hand. Steam rose up to my face as it fire raced along my arm.

"Damnit!" I yelled. Christian cursed and came over quick with a towel and we wiped it off. My skin was red all the way up to mid forearm. Nothing to bad, just a wee bit painful.

"I'm so sorry." He was saying. I turned ready to punch him right in the gut when I noticed where the towel came from. His waist. Which was now left bare for public viewing. Oh what a view. 

"You should run that under water." He said, apparently he didn't notice he was naked. I did. He sighed grabbing my un-hurt arm and taking me to the sink. He fitted himself against my back and turned the water on letting it get nice and cold then sliding my arm under it. I hissed in a breath as it stung for a second then relaxed as it began to feel amazing. Christians voice rumbled in his chest,

"I think you should go see that Tile Guy. Joel." He said almost conversationally. Almost, because there was a very small hesitation on 'Tile Guy'.

"I don't want to see him." Immediately sprang from my mouth. I wondered for a split second if it sounded defensive and wanton then shrugged it off.

"That's funny because I could have sworn you whisper his name twice last night." I froze. I literally froze. Ice ran though my veins, my gut tightened and my back straightened stiffly. Christian wrapped his arms around my shoulders, one hand turning off the faucet as he said, 

"I know there are things between you. I knew it the second he called you Dill and every moment after." He turned me around in his arms and I braced my hands on his chest to keep us from touching him completely. His naked body against mine felt wrong with the conversation we, or rather he, was having. "You yelled at me when I called you Dill-."

"I didn't yell." I'll admit, THAT was defensive.

"Right. You scolded me. I forget your exact words but I know they never included a Joel. But since you didn't 'scold' him when he called you that-."

"I passed out." I confirmed. He nodded.

"I can only assume that you were together and that he meant something to you." He kind of sped up at the end as if he'd loose his nerve if he didn't just spit it out. "Am I right?" he asked with a lick of his lips. I nodded and I felt his hands tighten on my arms. I met his eyes with a questioning look and he took a step back. "I have some...pipe work to do today. Why don't you go work things out with Joel."

"I-."

"Please." He said kind of helpless. 

"Why?" I asked. He took the towel from the center island top and repositioned it around his waist.

"Because..." he said looking away from me, "I'd ....I just am uncomfortable." I took a step forward and he stopped me with a wave of his hand. Taking a moment then, "Dillon, I have this feeling, that he is more to you then an old boyfriend and I really just.... i don't want to..." he ran his fingers through his hair roughly and then started at me hard, "I want to marry you, Dillon." He blurted. My heart jumped in my chest.

"What?"

"I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife, me your husband. I don't want anything to change. I don't want him to come in-between us." He said taking several steps in my direction, "I hardly know anything about your past, I fell sometimes like I don't know you." He was right in front of me now. "I've never seen you even have a headache. Your not the kind of person that just passes out, at least I didn't think so."

"Doubt." I said shaking my head. "You're doubting me."

"No! I don't doubt you. Yeah, there are things I don't know. But the past is the past. I know who you are now. That's who I love."

"Then why do you care that you don't know, why do you want me to see Joel?"

"Because who you were appeared on out doorstep yesterday. What happened in the past knocked you unconscious. I care about you. I want you to be able to move forward with us."

"I want to move forward with us." I said, stepping into him. He hugged me close. 

"Then deal with whatever you didn't deal with before so we can. So the next time someone you ...left behind...doesn't impair you." I laughed bitterly at the words 'left behind'.

"I didn't just leave them behind, Christian, I forgot about them. I didn't care." To say it out loud made my chest heave and my lungs convulse. Tears burst out of my eyes and I was in complete shock, not having prepared for the crying. Them, I'd said them, More then Joel. I'd left everyone I knew and loved, for my dreams? For my Mercedes, it didn't make as much sense as it had then. I cried because I realized how young and completely stupid I'd been. How superficial. How could I ever have thought I wasn't! What did they think of me? Did they even care I left? I had been so against everyone in Wood Creek, with their stupid festivals and town meetings and simple life. I thought they were empty, meaningless beings whose only purposes were to work, breed, and die. I'd never saw them as real people with hearts and emotions and pride. I hated myself. These were self-loathing tears. Christian didn't seem to notice he just rocked me and kissed my forehead until I quieted.

"You don't have to explain anything to me Dee. Not if you don't want to." I nodded into his wet-with-my-tears-chest. I did want to explain to him, everything. I wanted him to make sure he could even consider marrying me after hearing what I'd done and who I was.

"I think I should go back to Wood Creek." I said hollowly.

"I think you should too." He said giving me a squeeze.

To be continued...



My Only Regret Ch. 03



I was so done with crying. I could live the rest of my life without a tear and be happy. And if I could get through the next few hours I could live the rest of my life even happier; happy with Christian and babies and prestige in a city far away from little Wood Creek. 

I pulled my black SLK 350 into the first available space at the neighborhood Super Wal-Mart. It was crowded as hell and I got a workout through the parking lot maneuvering around the unaware pedestrians that Wal-Mart seems famous for. Sunday afternoon you see, everyone out after church like mushrooms after a rain. I passed through the front doors with out an old lady slapping a sticker on my boob and made it to women's apparel without tossing any small children out of my way. I'd decided after I left the house that my outfit, jeans and a T-shirt, were too much for visiting my hometown mainly because they where Roberto Cavalli and red...and leather. The spankin' new Mercedes was enough of an alarm bell. I didn't need to look anymore ... snooty. After all, the people where probably still trying to get the stench of my high and mighty ass out of their breathing air.

The first thing I found was a decent looking pair of dark blue Faded Glory's that looked about my size. The next was a plain white tank top. I rifled through the racks and picked out a navy sweater, a pair of kaki pants and a black t-shirt. Then I was off the shoe section. A mother and Son where arguing in front of me the whole way there and I had to finally push through them to get where I was going. I needed boots. Nobody wore Jimmy Choo wedges in Wood Creek. You wore boots, you had one pair of tennis shoes for running, one pair of dress shoes for Easter, Christmas, Sunday and Weddings, and you had 5 pairs of good boots. It was like unwritten rule. I hadn't worn boots in ten years. I left Wood Creek I left boots. I found some tan steel-toed work boots and my outfits were complete. 

I waited in line for 15 minutes at a fitting room before I finally got a room. I tried on the jeans and black t, back towards the mirror. I kept thinking I wasn't ready for this, I just wasn't. I took off my hoop earrings and undid my gold gross and tucked them safely away in a secret pouch in my purse then rooted around for the hair tie I always kept. I actually kept two because you never know when you're going to need one, or when someone else was going to need one. I pulled them both out and used one to tie my all my hair into a pony. The other I kept tight in my fist without noticing. I turned.

At first all I felt and saw was horror. I was seventeen again, I was back in Wood creek, I'd never left. My mom would knock on the door at any moment and tell me to hurry up that she had to get to the pet section before everyone else grabbed up the half priced dog chow. No one knocked. My mother was dead. I wasn't in Wood Creek, I was in Trent, I'd left, I'd been all over the country. I wasn't seventeen I was twenty-seven. I wasn't afraid. RIGHT. I inched toward the mirror and examined myself further, whilst I chanted silently, 'I'm not seventeen. I'm not seventeen.' I touched my check with my left hand; the other hair tie was there on my wrist. Just like I used to wear it. I jerked it off and tossed it behind me. 

"Your not seventeen, Dillon. Your not!" I said aloud, not loud enough to disturb anyone else but enough for it to really sink in. I shook my head and backed away from the mirror, collected my things and headed for the register. The pimple-faced girl there gave me an odd look when I came up and handed her a bunch of tags, I had to explain to her I was wearing some of the merchandise out of the store and the Cavalli jeans where really mine. 

**

A half and hour later found me in Wood Creek. I'd managed to get passed the welcome sign without a heart attack or an abrupt U turn. I had however sunk down in my seat as I passed the church not that anyone was there anymore, I just didn't want it to see me, the shame of not having gone to this or any church in10 years made the building seem ominous. I drove down the main street drag and tried to not explode. People, faces I recognized walked up and down the street, some still in their Sunday Best. I prayed to God they wouldn't recognize me, even though I certainly didn't look different then I had at seventeen, I'd lost the baby cheeks but not much else, I'd always looked a bit older. I hit a red light at the intersection by Riley's Bakery Café. 

Everything was the freaking same! Every building in its place, even the same cars parked in the same spots! I wanted to run. It took all my control not to hit reverse and never come back. A blonde woman walked in front of my car staring hard, I looked like everybody else but the car didn't. I didn't recognize her, thank god, but she looked at me as though she did. She was almost to the end of the cross walk when her arm hesitated, like she was going to wave but the light turned green and I took off, not looking back. Damn flashy roadster I was in Truck and SUV land, I was sticking out like a sore thumb. A very sleek and attractive sore thumb. 

It hit me at about five minutes later. I had no idea were I was going. I knew where I was. Sure. Home. Full of short dumpy buildings worn away by the harsh rain and snow Creek was famous for. Trent Summit was just the right amount south to be saved from the weird weather conditions of Wood Creek and was prettier because of that. Creek was always muddy; the only thing that changed was the feel of the air. It was hideously humid in the summer and freezing in during winter and fall. It was springtime, the only time when you could by no means predict the weather. One day it would be cold and rainy the next it would be ridiculously hot. No pattern whatsoever. Today was actually mild. It had rained by the smell of it but was getting warm. It could be frigid by tonight though you never knew.

I had planned to stay in a hotel for one night. It only took about 45 minutes from Trent to Creek and I had come early so there was no real need to stay. But I figured I needed some time to visit everything maybe even talk to people. It would be the least I could do and Christian would see I tried. I was booked at the Hampton Inn at the other edge of town but I had wanted to see things before I checked in and if I happed to meet anybody before then I could always say 'Well it was nice seeing you but I've got to go check into my Hotel now.' 

Visiting my old house seemed the logical thing to do. So I went there first. I grew up in a plain looking one story brick house. The basement was finished and that's where I moved my room when I turned 13, so you could actually call it two. Anyway I was an only child, I was originally a twin but the other baby miscarried and the pain my mother went through she never wanted to repeat. She was a stay at home mother and my father was a fireman. We were very typical. My father worked all the time, my mother drank all the time, I, stayed as far away from them as I could, all the time. 

My mother died when I was 16. She had gotten so drunk one night she fell down the stairs and cracked her head open. I hadn't been there when she died neither had my father. A lot of physiatrists try to say that I blame myself for her death. The truth is I don't. I just don't. We'd been close before she became an alcoholic but after that we'd been strangers. She became bitter and resentful, I tired to get her help, my dad didn't care and she fell apart. I didn't blame myself because I'd spent years trying to save her. I couldn't and it wasn't my job. My father is still alive but I don't know where. Someone called me about 7 years ago and told me he moved out of state but I didn't ask where. I didn't blame myself for my mother's death but I blamed him. I blamed him for being a cheater and never being around. 

I moved out when I was 18 years old. I had gotten into a good college on a full scholarship and worked the whole time as a secretary at the corporation where I work now, to pay for everything else. I have a degree in human resources and make almost $100,000 after taxes a year, pretty damn good for a woman my age and level of experience which I'll admit isn't much, I worked my ass off and I still am. I haven't talked to my father in 10 years and I probably wont for the rest of my life. I'm okay with that. Even now looking at the old dilapidated building I used to live in. He is one part of my past I don't need to connect with. Other then him I don't have any other family. All of my grandparents were dead before I was born and both my mother and father where only children to boot. I don't have cousins or aunts or anything. That used to make me sad at Thanksgiving when I was a little girl. It doesn't anymore I have Christian now. I have Mrs. And Mr. Miller I have plenty of friends back in the City. 

I didn't even bother getting out of the car and looking at my old home. It was falling apart and it looked like nobody lived there anymore. I went to my high school next. Wood Creek High, home of the Wildcats. Still looking like a cement and iron prison. The football fields are nicer now though. It houses about 350 students. Just like Wood Creek Jr. High and Wood Creek elementary school. Wood creek has had the same population for over a hundred years. I sat in the parking lot for a while not really sure where to go next. I thought about heading over to Joel's. Generation after generation of Holt's have been living at that bright white house at the end of Caldren road since the beginning. You can tell by all the additions. They move away and then come back. Joel might not have even left. 

Growing up he lived with his mother and father, his four brothers and sisters, and grandfather. Old Papa Holt, I smiled just remembering the trouble he used to get us in. HE got US in. He was one of those old men that ages on the outside but not on the inside. He used to tell wild stories about the war and when he was a boy. He'd sit in his unbalanced rocking chair and tell us the evils of vegetables and old women. Make us fetch him moonshine from the barn and cookies from the oven things like that. I really loved that old man. I prayed he was still alive. The moment I thought it I knew he wasn't.

I made my way along Caldren road. My house wasn't far from his, a good run or a bike ride away maybe. It was stupid to have gone to my high school first but seeing Joel's was not on the top of my things to do list. The road was broken and filled with potholes and my car was taking a beating. I was hating it. There weren't many houses along Caldren and nothing much to look at. A lot of trees, a few barns, a pasture there. And finally one big white house in the middle, 30 acres of pure joy, a separate two car, two story garage built by hand by Joel's dad and grandfather. I pulled in to the gravel drive, which was more like a parking lot, behind Mr. Holt's white and brown-stripped pick-up. There was also a blue Bronco, a red ford pick up from the fifties I knew was Papa Holts, it was half covered (bad sign), a black Explorer, a gray Escort and gray Navigator, a Town car, a blue Camaro, Mrs.Holts old reddish minivan, and a new black Dodge 1500, plus one Holt Tile Van off in the grass. It was Sunday morning; I really hoped everyone wasn't here for breakfast. How dramatic would that be?

I sat in the car for no more then five seconds before a woman blond woman in a pink Sunday dress came out of the house, she was trailed by two kids. I recognized her right away.

"Katie?" I asked stepping out. The woman who had been headed towards the Bronco stopped abruptly.

"Dillon?" I smiled at her.

"Holy Shit!" she said hurrying towards me. We embraced. Joel's youngest sister smelled like maple bacon and I knew I was in trouble. She pulled back looking completely amazed. I guess Joel didn't tell her. Her pouty pink lips were set in utter surprise. She had the families more common light brown eyes which all off the Holts did except for Papa and Joel. She looked gorgeous. 

"When did you get to be so beautiful?" I teased.

"What, did you expect me to stay ten forever?" She said smiling. "Where have you been girl? God, it's been forever."

"New York." 

"Really. Well La de Dah." She said. "Oh. I want you to meet my babies. Ashley, Alex!" she called over her shoulder. Babies, I thought, what was she 19, 20? The two blonde haired kiddies I'd seen follower her out came shuffling over.

"Ash, Alex this is Dillon. She's mommies good friend." The little girl, dressed in purple, clung to her leg and avoided my eyes but the little boy, Alex waved at me. I waved back. 

"Hi," I said 

"Hi," he said back. He had rumpled golden curls and blue eyes. Cutie-pie stamped on his forehead.

"Its nice to meet you. How old are you?" I asked bending slightly.

"Four!" he proclaimed.

"Four!" I said trying not to look at Katie but failing miserably. She didn't even blush.

"I was 16," she said like I couldn't do the math. I nodded and stuck my hand out to Alex he tried to shake it hard but couldn't get his hand all the way around mine. Katie made her way to the Bronco and popped open the back door.

"Come on pumpkin heads into the truck." She said peeling Ashley off her leg. She helped the little girl into the back and then Alex. "I wish I could stay and chat," she said. "But we've got to meet daddy, isn't that right?" she said to the kids. Ashley let out an excited squeal. "Get in your seats." She ordered and turned back to me. 

"Who's daddy?" I asked.

"Robert Cline." 

"Tommy's little brother?"

"The one." She said. I wanted to ask if they were married but thought that rude. It didn't occur to me to look at her finger. Some days I'm a little slow. "Are you staying in town long?" she asked.

"For tonight."

"Maybe we can get together before you leave. Give me a call." She said digging in her little pink purse. She pulled out a little pink card that read 'Ruth's Beauty Parlor. Katherine." Her cell phone number, I think, was scribbled on the back. I pocket it and smiled,

"Will do." I said, turning to the house, "Everybody is at breakfast I suppose."

"Yup. But don't let that worry ya. Everyone will be happy to see you." She said giving me another hug. "Oh! I wish I could stay. But we're late already." Something seemed to have occurred to her. "Wait till Joel sees you. He's going to flip!" 

"Oh, he already did." I said, I hadn't meant to but-

"What! He knows you're here? He didn't say anything! I'll kill him!"

"Don't. Its my fault."

"What?"

"Mommy." A little voice called from the car.

"Be there in a minute." She sang.

"We kind of ran into each other in Trent Summit."

"And?"

"I was with my...fiancée." I said. I wasn't sure if that's what Christian was to me exactly but it didn't really matter, tomorrow we would be.

"Shit." She said. Then, "Oh I mean I'm happy your getting married. Congratulations, its just-."

"I know. Awkward.

"Yeah."

"Mommy!" 

"Okay!" she yelled. "Well I got to go. But-."

"I'll call you." I said and we parted. I stared up at the white house I'd nearly grown up in and couldn't force myself to move. I considered leaving and coming back later but I knew I'd loose my nerve. I tried no to think about what was going to happen and moved forward, focusing on something else. Katie. She had twins! She was so young. But she looked like a good mom. Talking to her was just so easy. I hadn't expected it to be. As a kid she'd been so fierce. So wild, the littlest Holt had. I'd baby-sat her more times then I could count. We'd always had fun, painting or playing. She'd always talked about Joel and I getting married. We'd planned my wedding secretly for years. I figured she'd hate me if I ever came back, angry I left her and Joel and everybody. But she didn't. I was tremendously relieved. 

I stood at the threshold. My fist coming down for the knock hoping that Katie's warm welcome wouldn't be the last. 

To be continued...



My Only Regret Ch. 04



Hello everyone,

I have listened to your advice and got an editor. I was scared because the last one didn't work out so well but hopefully this one will make the difference the story and you all deserve. I realized I wasn't paying attention to the story as much as I needed to. So now I'm going to buckle down and make 'My only Regret' a truly worthy piece of work. Thank you for ALL your comments. They helped me out and woke me up. I may even re-write the first two chapters and put them together with the rest of the chapters when I'm all done. I have a lot, and I mean a lot, planned for Dillon and it's going to be ride, bear with me.

Special thanks to Carmine, who is as sexy as a silk teddy and may be trying to seduce me. ; ) The burritos where amazing. La llave a mi corazon es alimento.

 Also, thank you to the handful of people who always comment publicly or through e-mail. You guys make me smile and reaffirm my belief that I don't serve slop. 

~Leigh AKA BrokenGlass

***

I heard laughing and feet shuffling behind the door, some one was coming. Now would be an excellent time to jump into the bushes and hide if there had been any bushes nearby. I did a double check just in case, there weren't, I gulped. The knob turned and I took in a hurtful breath.

"Dillon?" 

"Mrs. Holt. Hi." I said weakly. Her red lip-sticked mouth hung open. She looked even better then I had remembered, she had always been a beautiful though. Leggy and blonde like Katie, usually pregnant, but still managing to be wispy and elegant. Her skin made you think of cream, I don't know why, like it would be sweet and soft to the touch maybe. She was not a small woman, but not a tall one either, her hair was always brushed out down her back in soft honey waves, she didn't believe in tying it back or holding it up. She had an excellent hairline that way and it made her look years younger. She looked mid thirties though she had to be almost fifty. Genes are and incredible thing and Mr. Holt was a lucky man.

She seemed at a loss. A small wrinkle, her only one by God, formed between her eyebrows, she was wondering what to do, what to say. 

"Its been a long time." I started. 

"Yes. Yes it has." She said breathily in her slight Southern accent. "Uh...I..." a male voice interrupted her from another part of the house.

"Ma? Who is it?" It said.

A grin broke out on my face and I couldn't help it. That voice. It hadn't changed, well it had gotten deeper but that little bit of a whine was still there. Oh gosh, I left when he was almost 14, he must be around 23 now. Dear God he was legal. What a crime. 

"Is that Peter?" I asked. Peter was Joel's little brother. Joel was the second oldest, on top of Peter he had two younger sisters, one being Katie, and an older brother. Mrs. Holt, Maggie I believe was her first name, smiled at me.

"Pete!" she called. "Come see who it is." she finally had warmed up and grabbed me by the shoulders. That was Magdalene Holt. She could be as cold as ice until you mentioned her kids then she was all smiles and pride. A tall man appeared behind her as if by magic it was my turn to drop my jaw. Peter Bartholomew Holt was one spindly, gangly looking pre-teen. He grew up with nicknames like 'Tree branch, tooth pick, long neck' and ' ape arms' I mean, it was relentless. The 'Pete' that stood before me now weighed at least two hundred pounds and was topping 6 feet easy. 

"My God." I said.

"My God too." He replied with a grin pushing past his mother, gently, to envelop me, roughly, in his arms. And I do mean envelop. He 'enveloped' me right off the stoop into the foyer.

"You been takin' steroids Tree Branch?" I laughed, partly at my terrible grammar; my inner country bumpkin was resurfacing. He laughed too, so hard in fact he had to lean against the doorjamb to keep himself upright. I heard wood groan. I guess it would be funny calling a mammoth man like that a twig. His amusement traveled up into his crinkled brown eyes, the same that used to belong to an almost gaunt looking face. His smile was ...radiant. Those braces had really paid off. He looked as handsome as his daddy, with that sandy brown hair and long nose. The nose, that I swear belonged to every blood Holt in the world, finally fit his face.

"Dillon! I can't believe you're here. Come in, have breakfast with us."

"Peter!" his mother scolded. We both kind of flinched like we were in trouble. Old Habits I guess, it may have been the tension though. I felt that; as sure as I was standing there. My appearance was random and forcibly awkward, I was setting everyone on edge. Whatever. "Take her coat." She said sternly. We both nearly laughed. Peter gave me a sly smile and took my coat into the next room. "I'll fix you a plate dear. You still take syrup on your scrapple, yes?" I did and nodded.

Mrs. Holt was originally from Texas, not too far from where my father grew up, and she, like me, had been raised on steak, cornbread and things on a pig that would make even the meatiest meat eater a little green. I came over for Sunday breakfast every year since I was eight and while everybody else dinned on waffles and English muffins we dined on scrapple and grits over in the corner. 

"I stopped makin' extra ever since you...well...but I have some more in the fridge." I smiled and followed her swinging mane of hair into the sun filled country kitchen.

"You've remodeled." I said taking in the shiny new countertops laden with food and sturdy, straight new cabinets. Outside came sounds of dish clanging and pleasant conversation. I thought I heard Joel's laugh but I pushed it away. Nevertheless, I was hoping to God no one came in for more eggs. My stomach had this sick feeling to it, like I'd throw up at any minute. 

"'Bout time innit?" she said sashaying to her industrial like range.

"I liked the lopsided look." I remarked. It was kind of an out-of-body experience talking to her, being in this house. Like I wasn't really here, but was watching. Like a dream everything was going too good. It wouldn't last though, I'd bet on it. She laughed quietly as she dug around for another plate.

Peter reentered. He draped one heavy arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his side, I tried to relax into him but found it difficult. I guess I couldn't get over him being so big and ...attractive. I never really thought of Pete but when I did I thought self-conscious loner. I was looking at confidence personified now. I wondered when that had happened; growth spurt in High school maybe? I bet he played varsity football and made all the little cheerleaders swoon. I decided I would ask later.

"What are you doin' here anyway Dill?" he asked casually reaching for a strip of bacon on a paper towel covered plate.

"I well...my fiancée is doing some work over in Trent and-" Mrs. Holt dropped her spatula. I felt Peter tense beside me and stop chewing.

"What-." He started, choking on a bit of bacon. I patted his back uselessly loosing the fight with my frown. This could be bad. Mrs. Holt, ladylike in all things, resumed cooking the meat in her pan with a very polite,

"Well Congratulations." Really, it was very sincere. Peter coughed into his fist a few times and nodded purple faced.

"Right, Right. Hey Congratulations." He finally managed to get out.

"Yeah." I said wistfully. 

"Pete." Mrs. Holt said not turning.

"Yeah ma?" he replied stepping away from me. Suddenly, I had the plague. 

"Could you take this plate of pancakes out to the table?" she asked pointing behind her to a steaming pile of 'cakes. 

"Sure." He said taking them.

"And Pete." He turned over his shoulder carefully not making eye contact with me. "Why don't you have a few before you leave." She finished.

"Right." He said stuffing two into his mouth and heading through the screen door that lead to the back patio. She waited for it to shut with a clang before swirling around to me, 

"Why didn't you call, write, anything?" she asked bluntly. The sick feeling in my stomach traveled up my throat in a line of burning acid. 

"I sent a few letters to Joel." I confessed hating myself for it. I didn't want to talk to her about this. 

"Nine years ago, Dillon Marie." My face must have shown something, I was betting shock because she replied with, "Yeah, he told me about them. He tells me everything." She ended very pointedly. "He didn't say you were engaged. I should have known, it would explain how very upset he was." She resumed cooking but I knew it wasn't over.

"I can't believe he told you." I said. "I don't know why he's even upset, it's been ten years." That was a lie. " I have every right to have found someone else." Even to me it sounded defensive. I didn't want to be defensive. I shouldn't have to be. But I did, I wanted to grovel, beg for her forgiveness, but I'm above all that right? My mind flashed to waking up next to Joel, feeling sorry, weak and afraid. Pathetic. I was becoming pathetic.

She froze. "I was hoping you had changed, Dillon. I really was." 

"I have." I said leaning against the counter hoping I looked cool and calm. She swung around,

"Really?"

"Yeah." I answered.

"If you had, you would see the error in that particular statement." She sounded pissed, her accent was so thick she slurred.

"What's that?" 

"You told him you were coming back, Dillon. He believed you, waited for you. Not for ten years, but for a long time. When you stopped writing he went looking for you." I swallowed, oh god what had he seen? I'd dated extensively in college and after. I even lived with a man named Andrew for almost a year.

My face heated up on its own accord, partly from anger. I couldn't believe he spied on me! She cocked her to the head to the side, "Worried? Don't be. He didn't tell us anything personal. He just told us you were in college, doing well, studying hard that kind of thing. But the look on his face, the way he carried himself after. We knew you weren't coming back." She paused. "We didn't mention you again." She returned to cooking, anger seeping from her, it was palpable.

"If you want me to leave, I'll go." I said. I really wanted to but-

"Now that's the funny thing, Dill. As much as I hate what you've done to my boy, I can't let you leave. Not again. Not like before."

"Then what do you want me to do? Apologize? Fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt Joel." There was a slight tremble to my voice I hoped she didn't notice. 

"Oh I know you didn't. You didn't mean for a lot of things to happen. But they did. I know you're sorry too. Sorry that you have to listen to me. I don't think you care."

"I do!" I nearly screeched. Where had that come from? I swallowed. "I do. I care. I ...I loved Joel. He was my life." Why had I said that? She didn't answer right away. She started plating my food. When she spoke It was so soft I barely heard her.

"Do you think leaving is gonna save you, Dillon?" 

"What?" I asked, noticing for the first time I had a death grip on the counter behind me.

"Do you think," she said "running is gonna make all this go away?"

"I-."

"You did then." She interrupted. Something snapped in my chest. Rage flowed through me in scalding waves.

"And it did!" I said forcing myself away from the counter. "It did." I was breathing shallowly on the verge of panic. I hated this; she was psychoanalyzing me. I had enough self-examination this morning. I wanted to scream just to hear anything but the flow of blood in my ears and the thud of my heart in my chest. 

"But you know its not going to work anymore. He's seen you, found you." Her voice got louder as her eyes bore into me. I turned away not knowing what to say not wanting to yell at her.

"That wasn't the plan." I finally managed to say.

"No. You left because you were too big for Creek, too ambitious."

"I know!" I all but yelled.

"We've always known that. But you didn't come back because you wanted to forget." I shook my head, but what she said echoed in me it was something I already knew. Something I would have to live with. "This is your home, you may not belong here, but it is what it is. You understand that?" 

"I know what I did, I know why, Mrs. Holt. I know, okay? I was terrible. I came here to fix that. To change that, to move on." She laughed at me. Really laughed; threw her head back and let loose. I clenched my jaw and waited for her to stop.

"You moved on Dillon," She said "But he found you and because you're not completely heartless you felt bad about it. It bugged you. I'm sure your big city boyfriend was miffed too. You're here so you can ease that nagging. And I wont give that to you. I won't forgive you like that." She snapped her fingers. " Not until you really prove to me you care. And not just about Joel and the rest of us, but yourself. " She slid a plate over to me, "Start by going out there and facing up to what you did. If that's to difficult for you leave and don't ever come back."

***

You would have thought I'd kicked a puppy. Dead stares. Open mouths. Completely and totally aghast, all of them! Except for a little boy and a dark haired woman sitting across from Joel. The woman was looking at everybody with a mix of amusement and hurt like she'd just made a joke and no one was paying attention but she couldn't help thinking it was still funny. Then she saw me, and all that turned into cautious curiosity.

There were eleven people at that table. The table held them all because, like the family, it had grown out of control. It was a thin, pure white, rectangle with twenty mismatched seats, and one that I remembered carving my initials into it with a steak knife at Christmas dinner when I was fourteen. I recognized all but on person there. (The dark haired woman) My eyes roamed and took in Papa Holt ;I sighed with relief. I felt a lot better now, like I could take on what was about to happen. Almost. 

I stood by a stack of leftover chairs; painfully still I waited as they scrutinized me. I wondered if I would be the first to say something when Caroline, Joel's sister, wife of his older brother Ben, said,

"Dillon? What are you doing here, girly?" she stood up and walked the seven chair-length to come up next to me and put her arm about my shoulders. I started to pull away but restrained myself.

"Hey Caroline." I said meekly. "Is that jr. over there?" I asked pointing with my full plate at the boy sitting on Joel's right.

"Sure is." She beamed. I had left four days after Benjamin Holt Jr. was born. That made him nine. The boy looked lost and Joel looked like he was going to have a breakdown. His face was horror-struck. Like he'd just seen someone brutally murdered with a pickaxe. 

"Well ya'll are darn rude." Caroline said with a flick of her short ginger curls. "Say hello why don't cha'?"

"Hello Dillon." Said Benjamin, monotone. He said everything in monotone. In fact, he WAS monotone. Average height, average build, average brown hair and those Holt brown eyes, not ugly but not overly attractive. Nothing remarkable. I had always wondered how he'd won a wife as fiery and outspoken as Caroline. Maybe he was more impressive in bed.

"Dillon." Greeted Jeremy. Joel's dad also went by Mr. Holt or Jerry. Surprisingly when I heard the name Holt I didn't think of Joel, I thought of Jerry, a hard working family man, who loved his wife, Country and day-to-day life. He was the older version of Ben. Face wrinkled from the sun, hands rough and scarred from work, with all the mild family features.

"Dill! Lookin' good." That came from Eddie Foley. A childhood friend of Joel and me, he lived in the neighborhood and was another part of the Holts 'extended family.' We'd known each other since preschool. 

"Hey Eddie." I said with a smile. He smiled back, dimples prominent. He was the epitome of 'blonde- blue-eyed -corn-feed-country-boy', him and Joel. People would have confused them for brothers if everyone here in Wood Creek hadn't known each other since birth. Eddie was bigger though, taller and more muscular, plus he had those dimples.

Shawn Kelly, another neighborhood kid and old friend, nodded at me. He was Joel's best friend. He was dark Irish. Dark brown hair and deep green eyes made a sharp angled face and freckle spotted nose highly attractive. Shawn was never a talker so I didn't take it too personally. I probably should have though by the way he stared. 

Harsh arguing brought my attention from Shawn to the end of the table where Papa Holt was sitting next to Jerry and Beth, Joel's sister, only three years younger then Joel and I. She was the middle child and with that said she had a considerable chip on her shoulder. Usually she aimed all that pent up hostility at me. That's why, though she is closer in age to me then Katie, I got along with Katie better. Beth was a bitch, plain and simple. Every family had one. Beth was the Holts. We'd gotten in more fights, physical and otherwise since she was old enough to defend herself, mainly because after that I hadn't held back.

"No!" she proclaimed loudly, she said looked over at me. "Who does she think she is?" Papa Holt touched her forearm and Beth hissed at me in her permanent holier then thou tone, "Welcome back Dillon, I see you've helped yourself to us poor folks food. Eating and running again?" 

"Beth Anne." Caroline said shocked.

"Don't YOU dare patronize ME, Caroline!" she snapped back. I felt like I'd missed something vital in that statement. It sounded like a cheap shot though. 

"Beth." Said Ben Sr., his voice actually held heat. I was impressed. 

"No, I deserve that." I said nodding.

"You deserve way more then that you stupid bitch!" My head snapped up at her words, face heating and fist clenching. Ben told his son to go inside and help 'Gramma' and before he could even open his mouth in Beth's direction, Jerry had already chewed her out for cussing in font of Jr. My temper hadn't subsided though.

"Well, well, Pickle," said a booming voice from the end of the table. It belonged to a gray haired old man with a very mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "You cause quite the stir, don't cha?" My anger vanished with a whoosh of air.

"Yes'r," I said fondly. "Its good to see you, Big Papa."

"You too Pickle." He said. Beth burst from her chair. It flung hard against the concrete floor of the covered porch. She was on her feet and coming at me before I could even absorb the sound of broken wood. The man that sat next to her, I recognized at Dave Kiser, her boyfriend in middle school, jumped up with a,

"NO, Beth!"

I had time to think. No what? Before her fist came flying, it caught me in the cheek with a thud, knocking me backwards. The plate flew from my hands and shattered on the hard ground right before my back hit. Concrete bit into my elbows and forearms then came up and smacked me in the back of the head with a sickening thud. That hurt more then the punch had. I lay motionless for a second, dazed, hearing chairs screech and people shout. Eddie came into view; he lifted Beth off her feet before she could kick me in the ribs and held her tight in his capable hands. Caroline was trying to keep a very interested Jr. in the house but couldn't quite manage because she couldn't take her eyes off the train wreck that was me.

"If your gonna hit her back, now would be the time Dill." Eddie declared, jokingly I think, you could never be sure with him though. Beth's round face looked panicky, her bone straight brown hair falling wildly around her face.

"No I'm not going to hit her back." I said touching the sore spot developing on the ball of my cheek. I wanted to but-

"Ya sure?" He said, "She can't hit you back. I got 'er arms. See?" he showed me, and Beth screamed and fought back. Hard. Kicking and lunging and shouting as loud as she could. Eddie held on, squeezing her, but Beth wasn't having it, she threw her head back and knocked him in the face.




My Only Regret Ch. 04



"Let her go!" someone yelled. I actually looked towards the door thinking it was Mrs. Holt yelling at us like when we were kids but it wasn't, this time it was a definite male voice. Everyone had turned behind them to Joel who was still sitting, his hand still holding his fork.

"Let Beth go." He said slower and calmer. Blue eyes so cold I nearly flinched. Eddie started to protest,

"I don't wan' her to-." Joel stood and Eddie dropped her like a hot potato. She hit the ground with a grunt and scrambled up the stoop into the house. Dave followed her with a little wave at me, I waved back not to be rude, and apparently it was the wrong thing to do because I felt hot eyes on my neck. Joel was staring a hole through me.

"Your unbelievable." He said, then turned abruptly and walked out of the enclosure to the wheat field beyond. I sighed and put a hand behind me to steady myself, there was a piece of plate there and it cut into my palm with a sharp painful sting. Hot blood poured out and I felt nauseous. I was squeamish don't you know? Great. Just fucking great. This was even worse then I imagined. What's next?

To be continued...