Pull

Chapter Three
Alyssa
It was harder than I thought. Talking to him, I mean. To be
honest, I hadn’t any idea how famous he was until some girls I’d
graduated with ran into the shop and began giggling like little kids.
That was kind of how my life was, though.
Ever since the accident two years ago, I felt shut out of
everything. Like I was a shadow going through the motions. Trying
to smile at all the right times, and laugh when it was expected. I
was the best worker my parents could ask for. I was first to arrive,
last to leave. First to take up someone else’s shift. I even graduated
early, so I wouldn’t have to be around the reminders anymore.
I liked life better that way. Predictable.
When you planned things, well, it was almost like some
cruel joke from God. That once you told Him your plans, He’d try
to ruin them. My parents said it wasn’t God’s fault — they also said
it wasn’t mine. Did that make it Brady’s?
I shoved my hands into my pockets and hurried into the
store. Rain always depressed me. That meant I was living in the
worst place on the planet. If I needed cheering up, I had to go
tanning in order to soak up some fake sunlight.
Last Christmas my parents even put special lights in my
room, so I would smile more.
I’ve smiled less ever since.
Well, until five days ago.
When that idiot rock star actually stood on a street corner
and sang about Taffy, and then proceeded to roll his hips to the
beat in his own head, I wanted to call him a dang fool, but I
couldn’t pull my eyes away. Something about him was magnetic —
which should have been my first clue to stay away.
Brady had been magnetic too. He was perfect, charismatic,
the star of the football team.
And look where that love got me.
A year out of high school, still living with my parents, and
the inability to drive anywhere more than an hour away for fear
that I would have a panic attack and die.
I pushed the door to my parents’ store open. The bell jingled.
That idiot had started work today, and our sales had never been
worse. He was such a spectacle that even people who didn’t know
his music wanted to go check out the taffy store. Which was great
for our competitors, crappy for us. It’s not as if I could just find
some famous person and beg them to wear one of our shirts and
throw taffy at people. What the heck was he doing anyway? I even
watched him schmooze an old lady. Did the guy have any shame at
all?
I would die before I let anything happen to my parents’
livelihood, and I would happily take Demetri with me. It wasn’t as
if I had anything exciting going on now.
Shoving the door to the counter away, I went back to the
stool and picked up my cell. Ten missed calls.
“Crap.” I quickly scrolled through the missed numbers.
It was Mrs. Murray, my counselor. I looked at the clock on
the wall. “Crap!” I said again, grabbing my keys and running for
the door. “Dad! I’m going to be late for my appointment!”
He appeared from the back room. “Oh, okay, Honey. You
need me to drive you?” His eyes briefly held mine before looking
down at the ground. He knew how uncomfortable cars made me
after everything that had happened.
“Um, no. I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles away. Love you!” I
heard him tell me to be careful as I ran out the door.
****
I ran into the large beach house and practically beat down
my counselor’s door.
“Alyssa! I was worried you weren’t going to make it.” Mrs.
Murray was in her late forties and wore spectacles that constantly
slipped down her nose. Her brown hair was always in a bun, and
she always dressed as if she was in a hurry. In fact, she did
everything like she was in a hurry. Everything but the listening and
talking part of her job. I imagined she would probably work in her
sleep if she could.
I gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, well, I’m here.” If I didn’t
show, she would just tell my parents, and then I’d be on suicide
watch for no reason. At least that was the fear. It wasn’t as if she
could do that based solely on the fact that I didn’t show up. But last
time I didn’t show up… well, let’s just say my parents caught me in
my bathroom staring at a bottle of ibuprofen and flipped. I told
them I had a headache, but that was the exact moment my dad also
asked me to open my hand. I swear the bottle had spilled, and I
was just trying to put the pills back in. But they didn’t believe me.
Nobody did. Story of my life.
The smell of peppermint tea greeted me as I waltzed into the
small office and took a seat on the leather couch. Mrs. Murray did
an amazing job with the ambiance. I could almost forget that she
was a shrink, and I was there to tell her all my innermost secrets
and feelings — almost.
“So.” She fell into the leather chair across from me and
pulled out her notepad. “We’re almost to the two-year anniversary
of the incident.”
I wanted to give some sort of snide remark. I mean, hello? I
was living this nightmare. Believe me, I knew exactly what the day
was. I knew exactly how many days I had left, and even if I could
forget, my nightmares constantly reminded me of the hell I was
living every single day.
“Yup.” I managed to shrug nonchalantly. I should have been
an actress. With a quick smile I leaned back onto the couch and
exhaled, knowing what she was going to ask next.
“And how do you feel about that?”
“How do I feel?” I repeated, feeling the familiar anger
thump through my chest. “I feel fan-freaking-tastic. I mean, I’ve
learned so much about myself in these past two years. I’m going to
take up watercolors to share my feelings. And hopefully, later this
afternoon, I’ll frolic across the beach and giggle until I fall to my
knees and pet a mermaid when it joins me on the sand.”
“Sarcasm.” Mrs. Murray scribbled something on her
notepad and glanced back up. “Good. At least you’re not burying
your anger inside anymore. What else?”
Sweat began to pool at the back of my neck as I fought to
keep my emotions in check. My eyes flickered to the ground, and
my breathing grew more and more shallow. “I hate it here.”
“We’ve been over this, Alyssa.” Mrs. Murray sighed. “I
know you hate it here, but do you really think the best thing for
you to do is escape your current situation? So, what? You run away
instead of facing your fears? Your anxiety? Tell me how that will
help you, and I’ll be all for it, Alyssa.”
I bit my lip in response and tucked my hair behind my ears.
Biting my lip was a nervous habit I developed when I was either
trying to keep myself from talking too much or crying. It was
usually the latter these days.
“Listen, Alyssa.” Mrs. Murray set her tablet on the table next
to her and leaned forward. “I’m going to be doing a summer grief
group. I really want you to think about attending.”
“You’re not going to make me?” I snapped. I didn’t mean to
sound so harsh, but I always felt defensive, because I knew the only
way I could please my parents was to come here. And in all
honesty, I also knew that I probably wouldn’t be here in the first
place, if I hadn’t gotten into that truck.
I owed them.
Just like I owed Brady.
“I’ll think about it,” I mumbled.
Mrs. Murray smiled. “I think you’ll really enjoy it, Alyssa.
There will be some other kids your age. Support groups offer
exactly that, support. When was the last time you even went out
with friends? Or went to a movie?”
“I work.” I shrugged.
She lifted an eyebrow and grabbed her notepad to scribble
something else. “Right, so you work twenty-four seven, can’t drive
more than ten miles outside of town, and you think you’re just
fine?”
My eyes flickered to hers then back to the ground, and I
swallowed slowly. “I know I’m not fine.”
“Go on.”
“It’s just… I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again. I feel broken.”
Oh, crap. Now I was going to start crying, and I hated
crying. Hated feeling any sort of weakness.
“What does broken feel like, Alyssa?”
“What does it feel like?” I laughed bitterly and clenched my
hands together. “It feels like hell. It feels like I’ll never be normal
again. Every night I relive the accident, and every morning it’s the
same. It takes every ounce of energy I have to keep myself from
crying when I brush my teeth. I can’t even bring myself to listen to
music because it reminds me of him. I can’t get into trucks. And
whenever I even hear a football game, I nearly have a breakdown.
So yeah, I would say that’s broken. When you can’t even function
in a normal world. When you can’t breathe without your chest
hurting.”
It was silent in the room except for my ragged breathing.
Mrs. Murray wrote a few things down then looked at me.
“Wow, Alyssa. I’m proud of you for being brave enough to share
that. You realize we’ve never talked about your other fears before?
Only the anxiety about long car rides. I truly think you are making
progress.”
“Right,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly drained.
“And…” She wrote a few more notes down. “Since you were
late, our session is going to have to be cut short. I have another
client expected in a few minutes. But Alyssa, I really want you to
think about this grief group. The first meeting is a week from
Saturday.” She pulled out a small yellow flyer. The fact that it had
smiling people on the front did nothing to ease my misgiving that
this was a bad idea. The meeting place was TBD.
I lacked the strength to argue at that point, so I swiped it and
stuffed it into my messenger bag before saying thanks and stepping
out of her office.
Needing escape, I stumbled toward the door and jerked it
open.
And walked straight into a wall of muscle.
“Whoa there.” Strong arms came up to steady me.
I recognized that voice. Slowly, I raised my eyes and met
Demetri’s horrified gaze.
I jerked away. “Are you stalking me?”
“Are you the famous one?” he stated. Quite snidely, I might
add.
“Clearly not, considering I actually have humility.”
He smirked. “Little girl’s got a big bite.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to sidestep him, but he grabbed
my shoulders again. “So, I guess that begs the question. Are you
stalking me?”
Rolling my eyes, I clenched my teeth and jerked away from
his touch. “Yes, rock star. I love you. I want to have your babies. I
draw hearts around your name, and tonight, when I get home, I’m
hoping to create a love spell that will make you fall in love with
me.”
He smirked and his dimples framed his all-too-perfect face. I
couldn’t pull my eyes away, even though my mind screamed for
me to do so.
“I think you’re bad for my ego.”
“Someone has to be.”
“Touché.” His eyes flickered to my lips and then back to my
face.
“Can I go now?” I pushed past him. He finally released me,
but the sensation of his touch remained.
“What’s your name?” he yelled after me.
“None of your business,” I said without turning around. The
car roared to life, and I was off. Though I’ll admit I did glance in
the rearview mirror… maybe once or twice. Any living, breathing
girl would. He was a god among boys, but he knew it. And his
reckless type of lifestyle would be like my poison and my drug.
Staying away from him was necessary. I needed to protect myself
at all costs.