Born to Ride_A Clubhouse Collection

chapter 1

I stand behind the half closed door. I don’t want them to know I’m there. I just want to listen. Really listen. I want to hear what he’s like with her. This is it. After four long years, he’s back and I’m still as broken as the day he broke me.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess,” he starts.

“That’s mommy,” she points out, referring to me.

“She moved to a small town one day, and there she met a handsome prince.”

“That’s you,” she says excitedly. I hear him chuckle.

“The prince was tall with dark hair and a short beard. He rode a big motorcycle and wore a leather jacket. The princess loved the prince’s blue eyes; they twinkled when he was happy. The princess fell in love with the handsome prince. She loved him so much that she had a baby. The most beautiful baby the world has ever seen-,”

“That’s me!” She claps, interrupting him.

I hear him chuckle again, before he continues. “The princess looked down at her baby and named her Lola. She looked just like her daddy with her dark hair and bright blue eyes. The prince and the princess were so happy with their new baby. They couldn’t wait to take her home so she could meet her older brother. The prince had a son, whose name was Jasper. Jasper looked just like his dad as well, except he had blonde hair. He lived in another town, but he visited often.”

I hold my breath as he nears the end of the bedtime story I know by heart - I’ve read it to her every night for the past four years; every night since the night we left him. But that’s not the only reason I know it so well, I know it because I wrote it. The words are our story.

“One day, the princess got a sore heart. She was very sad, so she took the beautiful baby and moved them away so she would be happy again. The princess never stopped loving the prince, though. For every time she sees her daughter’s twinkling blue eyes, she is reminded of him and it makes her smile. The End.”

I hear him saying goodnight to her, so I tiptoe away. He’ll come and find me when he’s ready to talk. I know he wants to; it’s why he’s here. Well, that and to see his daughter. He wants answers. He’s mad, and he’s got every right to be. I’m not mad anymore. I’ve forgiven him, but just because you forgive, doesn’t mean you can forget.

I pour myself a cup of milk and wait for him. I hear his heavy boots lightly thumping as he makes his way down the floorboards of my hall. I sense him stop when he reaches the doorway of the kitchen, where I am. So I turn to face him. Gone are the tender eyes he gave to our daughter. In their place are hard, cold, livid eyes.

“Roam,” I whisper. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know what else to do. He’s not scaring me, as such; I know he’d never hurt me. But, I don’t like being on the receiving end of the look he’s giving me and I don’t like knowing that it is my actions that caused that look to appear on his face. The silence is deafeningly uncomfortable. I want to run again, but I know I won’t, because I made a promise to myself. For the sake of my daughter, I would never run again. I would face my problems head on. I would not run.