Broken Promises (A Timeless Trilogy Book 1)

by Quell T Fox

  A TIMELESS TRILOGY

  BOOK ONE

  Quell T. Fox

  This book contains adult/mature situations.

  Copyright © 2019 Quell T. Fox

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  PROLOGUE

  “Where are you heading to next?”

  “Back to Rhode Island. I just…I just have a feeling that’s where she is going to be.”

  “All right. Be safe. I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “See you when I see you.”

  “Jacob? You know how to reach me. If you need anything…”

  “I know. I have a good feeling this time, don’t worry.”

  CHAPTER 1

  “The weather here will be an interesting change. Different than back home in Cali, that’s for sure. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Home. Cali wasn’t my home. Rhode Island won’t be my home either. No place has ever felt…right. And there have been a lot of places. Being in one place for too long makes my skin crawl. It becomes such an overwhelming feeling that I have to pack my crap and go. Just…go. It still amazes me that I stayed in California for as long as I did.

  I’m not sure how I have lasted with Andrew for a year. I know, I know. Only a year? Well, it’s the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. And the most serious, if that wasn’t obvious. I moved here for him. Not that I had anything in Cali. Nothing for me lasts very long. But that’s how I like it. Keeps me from getting bored with life. I never know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in a month. My version of living life on the edge.

  Don’t get me wrong. Andrew is a great guy. He’s funny. Charismatic. Smart…and attractive. And not just by my standards. I see the way girls look at him when he walks by. Not that it bothers me in any way. Hell, I ogle him too. I’ve never been a jealous person. What’s the point? There’s always going to be something, or someone else. There’s no point in stressing over something you can’t control. A lot of girls are, Oh, but what if he cheats on me? and then here I am with, Please do, just an excuse for me to leave. Not that I need one, but an excuse makes it easier.

  I’m probably making myself out to sound like some kind of cold hearted wench. I promise you that I’m not. I’m just…different.

  I’ve always had a thing for the boy next door type. Ya know, blonde hair, blue eyes, muscles, gorgeous smile, all that good stuff. Totally cliché, I know. Totally out of my norm. But I like what I like and that just so happens to be Andrew. For now.

  Andrew and I have known each other since high school, when we were both living in Florida. We were in the same grade and had most of our classes together. We weren’t friends, by any means, but we knew who the other was. It’s always like that in high school, isn’t it? Everyone knows everyone but you can’t associate yourself with anyone outside of your clique. My clique? That was just me and myself. The way I liked it.

  Andrew moved to California right after graduation. He and another guy we went to school with, Brent, started a business together. Brent never took it seriously, but Andrew always did. He ended up taking it over himself only a year after they started it. I’m not sure what Brent is up to now but he’s probably back in Florida, living in his parent’s basement smoking pot and talking to chicks online all day. I never understood why those two were friends.

  I moved to California a couple years after high school, after a bad break up. My idea of bad, probably not yours. The relationship lasted closer to three months. Three months too many. The guy was a nutcase. Landon Straten. Stay far away from that guy. Just trust me.

  After a few months of being in Cali I got a message from Andrew on social media. He noticed that I’d moved there. We got to chatting, then he asked me to hang out. Something about reconnecting. One thing led to another and here I am. Okay, here we are…a year later. In Rhode Island. Yay.

  Andrew drawls on about the weather. I don’t know if I could be any more not interested.

  “Have you seen snow before?” Andrew asks while unbuckling his seatbelt. He steps out of the car, leaving the door open. I assume it’s so we can keep up the small talk because it’s a little too chilly outside for the door to be left open for the hell of it. The jeep is a little under a quarter of a tank and he made the decision to stop for gas sooner rather than later. Did I mention that we drove here? Yeah, all the way from California. Time of my life.

  I click the different buttons on the stereo system trying to find something decent to listen to. One of the worst things about moving is relearning the radio stations in the area. Normally, I would have my phone hooked up to Bluetooth, but Andrew didn’t opt for that luxury in his jeep.

  “No. I haven’t. Should be interesting.” It’s a lie. I do that a lot. Well, I try not to outright lie to the man, but there are a lot of omissions. Dancing around the truth type of thing. Mostly topics revolving around my life. Nothing important, you see. It’s a necessity for me. I can’t tell him the truth about my life. About how many times I have moved around. It may shock him. Then he’d start asking questions and then this happy little thing we have would be ruined. It’s funny how easy it is to ruin a relationship just by learning about someone’s past. Like nothing about the present matters. Who they are in that moment does not matter. It’s bullshit, if you ask me. People shouldn’t be judged so harshly for being different, or for having a difficult past.

  I learned that the hard way, with Landon…when I was living in Washington…for the second time. I’m content with life right now. I don’t want Andrew worrying that I’ll just up and leave in the middle of the night. Which I may, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  As far as he is concerned, I’ve lived in Florida and California. Oh, and he knows that I was born in Georgia. But that doesn’t count. My parents moved to Florida when I was just a baby. Dad got a better job offer and mom didn’t mind moving to the warmth of Florida. I have not mentioned to Andrew that I have lived in Illinois, Texas, Washington (twice) and even Canada for a short time. To be fair, he also never asked. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a lot of places to move to, but this was all between graduation and moving to California. Like, a little over two years. Even I know that’s excessive.

  I was planning another move when Andrew reached out to me. Three months in California was enough. He didn’t know that, of course. After us getting to know one another better, I decided to stay and give the relationship thing another chance. I try being optimistic, I really do. I don’t choose to be this way, it’s just who I am. I’ve learned to cope with it, but others are not as accepting. Which is why I just shut my mouth about it and go with the flow.

  When the tank is full, Andrew hangs the nozzle back up. He slides into the jeep, puts his seatbelt on and starts the engine. I’m glad he’s one of those people that shuts off the engine while pumping gas. People say it’s a myth, but I still truly fear the car blowing up if the engine is running while you pump.

  ” When our first good snowstorm hits, we are going to build a snowman. It would be my honor to pop your snowman cherry.” His hand placed softly over his chest, adding to the drama that he was aiming for. It worked. He glances at me from the corner of his eye and winks at me. He really is cute.

  I wish I could be honest with him, or with someone. Anyone, really. I haven’t even told my parents about this stuff. It’s not easy keeping these feelings inside. I wish that he knew how bad of an idea this relat
ionship is. That one day, I will leave. Without a care. Without looking back. Perhaps without even giving him notice. But I can’t tell him that, because like I said, I’m content. Sometimes, I feel guilty. Only a little and only sometimes.

  This is me. I am Asha Ellen Lewis, and I am 100% not normal but 100% okay with it.

  I don’t have a reason for being like this. I’ve always chalked it up to everyone is different and all that. It’s never bothered me, not really. Inconvenient though, completely. I move and it’s exciting and fresh, like walking outside on a spring day after being cooped up in the house all winter. I feel like I’m settling into everything nicely, but then something changes. Like a switch is flipped inside of my brain. The voice in my head saying no, this isn’t it, then I’m on to the next place. It’s a vicious cycle. Surprisingly, it’s worked for me this far. Suits my personality.

  “Can’t wait!” I clap my hands quickly to show my excitement. Not real excitement but I have to play the part. The delightful, happy girlfriend part. He laughs, puts the car in drive and takes off. Bringing me closer to another state that I can mark off my list.

  I couldn’t function without lists, not with the way my life is.

  ***

  Two hours later, we are at our new home. Andrew’s new home. My new place to stay…vacation? I’m never sure what to call it. We turn onto the driveway, if you can call it that. What it really is, is a dirt path leading from the main road to the house. There’s even grass growing all over. The tire imprints are what sets it apart from the rest of the land, with the least amount of grass growing in those spots. There’s a sign over to the right by a large, very old looking oak tree, but it’s too far away to read. It looks handmade. Curiosity strikes and I make a mental note to ask about it later.

  We pull up to the house and stop in front of the two-car garage. I didn’t ask many questions about the house. Honestly, I didn’t ask many questions about anything, even about where we were going. Only about which state it was that we were heading to. It didn’t matter to me. I had wanted out of California for a while. This was a good opportunity to do just that. Besides, I knew I wouldn’t be staying wherever it was that we ended up.

  Andrew takes it as me being a “free spirit” and a “loyal partner”. He’s used those exact phrases during conversations. He’s so innocent. I’d like to consider myself a free spirit. Loyal partner, though? Definitely not. For the time being, yes. I would never cheat on him or anything like that. But loyalty is through and through. You can’t pick and choose which aspects you want to be loyal to in a relationship. It’s all or nothing. That doesn’t work for me. For that, no, I am not a loyal partner. I know I will leave Andrew at some point and I can’t bring myself to tell him. That’s the opposite of loyal. That’s betrayal.

  I step out of the car. The air here is different. I swear I can smell the cold. There’s a bite in the air, that I instantly feel on my bared skin. The clouds are a dark grey casting a shadow over the entire area. You can’t tell that it’s late afternoon. It’s depressing. I’ve heard the weather around here tends to be dreary almost all the time. The only time it’s normal is during the summer, but the humidity is insane. I’m glad I dressed expecting the worst weather. Even though I feel the briskness in the air, I’m warm under my layers.

  I look up at the house and my eyebrows instantly go up. Wow.

  This is not what I was expecting. At all.

  “This house is beautiful, Andrew. You grew up here?” My head is tilted back, trying to take in the entirety of the house.

  I vaguely remember Andrew mentioning growing up here. I don’t have a lot of the details. Andrew’s freshmen year was his first year in Florida. I’m not sure what caused his family to move. Never cared to ask. I do know that he grew up with the picture-perfect family. Hard-working dad, stay-at-home mom, perfect children, white picket fence (literally, it’s right behind me at the end of the driveway…dirt road?), and even the classic Golden Retriever, that’s probably buried in the back yard somewhere. Perfect little family.

  The house has an old farm style to it, but with some updates- like the two-car garage that I am currently standing in front of. It’s even painted that dark barn-red color. It looks like it has two floors, possibly three or maybe just an attic. There is a curvy stone path leading to a set of cement stairs. The stairs take you to the porch that sits in front of the main door. Two large pots filled with dirt and probably dead plants, sit on either side of the door. Large bushes of some kind trail a border around the house, telling me that someone cared about what the yard looked like once upon a time

  A large picture window is between the front door and the garage. There are a lot of windows, all encased in a white trim. Even the door is white. White symbolizes purity. The use of it around the house suits him, this house and his cliché family.

  I’m not jealous or bitter. I didn’t have a bad childhood. It’s just so…blah. Where’s the excitement? The adventure? Why would you want to go through life with everything being so perfect all the time? I’ve always found beauty in things that are different or unorthodox, without having to try. It’s just what I see when I look at things.

  I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. My hands make their way into my jacket pockets and I take a few steps back trying to get the entire house into my line of vision.

  I am suddenly very excited about seeing the inside of this house. I enjoy houses that look lived in. Old, even. A house that has too many memories for anyone to remember, both the good and the bad. One, that if it could talk, you would want to sit down for hours and hours and just listen to all that it has to say about what it’s witnessed through the years. This house would have a lot of happy, simple memories, I’m sure. But I would still listen.

  I’ve always appreciated a good story.

  This house is Andrew’s grandfather’s house. He didn’t live here when Andrew was here. He only moved back in when they had left for Florida. Andrew’s grandfather, Abraham, was recently sent to stay at a nursing home, which is why we are here. He was no longer able to live alone and none of his kids were willing to stay with him. No one thought to ask Andrew, I guess. Or maybe they didn’t want to burden him with that. I’m sure he would have still made the move, even if his grandfather was still living here. He is a family man, after all. The house has been sitting empty for a few months now.

  “Yeah, I did. Grandpa built this house when he married my grandmother. Built the home of her dreams with enough room for the family of their dreams.” He’s standing by the jeep, both hands in his pockets, looking over the house. The expression on his face is proud. This house definitely has stories. I can tell.

  “Your grandparents planned to have seven children?” I ask skeptically. Who would want that many children?

  “No,” he drags out the o a bit, “they planned on eight children.” He continues, “They had eight, but my uncle Arthur died when he was little. After he passed, they all started referring to the house as ‘Arthur’s House’ to keep his memory alive. There’s a sign at the top of the driveway that they set up in his memory.”

  He points towards the main road, at the oak tree that we just drove by.

  There’s the explanation I was looking for. I didn’t even have to ask. I mentally mark off that question as answered.

  “That is a lot of kids. What are we going to do with all of this space?”

  If he mentions having children, I swear I will leave right now. He has completely lost his mind if he thinks that I’m having kids with him. Or ever. I can fake a lot of things to keep my life looking normal. But I draw the line at growing something inside of me.

  “Well, Asha. I’m going to build you a shop. I plan on doing some remodeling to the downstairs bedrooms. This way you can open it up to the public. Eventually, of course.” A shit-eating grin spreads onto his face, as he turns towards me. He says this like it has been his plan the entire time. He’s been planning to do this since we talked about moving here a month ago. Panic
hits me, but I’m good at the rebound. Calm, cool and collected. That’s me.

  “That’s sweet of you Andrew. But I don’t think we should change anything in the house. Do you think your grandfather would be okay with that?” Calm, cool and collected...see?

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s my house.” His gaze returns to the house and off me.

  I blink a few times. Letting what he said register into my brain before I can allow words to come out of my mouth.

  “What do you mean, your house?” I could have done a better job of hiding the hostility in that comment, but ya can’t win ‘em all. Lucky for me, Andrew doesn’t even catch it.

  “I bought it.” A wide grin spreads across his face, bigger than the one he had on his face a few moments ago. He looks the most gorgeous when he smiles like that. His whole face lights up and his eyes get a little squinty, which I find beyond adorable. I, on the other hand, am still focusing on hiding my panic. Usually, I end up looking completely emotionless, glazed over. It’s not easy to stay calm when all you really want to do is freak out…or run.

  I take a few slow breaths and work through my thoughts. Okay, this was not part of the plan, but it could be worse. We were not supposed to buy a house together. We were just supposed to be staying here for a while until we found a nice apartment in the city. An apartment. Not a house. I can’t be grounded to this place. What is he going to do after I leave? Hopefully, he won’t be too lonely in this absurdly large house. Snap out of it, Asha. I calm my thoughts and put them aside for now.

  Not my problem. None of that is my problem. It’ll be his once I’m gone. He will have to figure it out. There. Problem solved.

  I put on my best excited face, wide eyes and all. I’ve become a pro at pretending. Especially, with excitement. It’s the easiest to fake. Sadness, I still struggle with that one. Anger comes naturally for me, so that’s fine.