Normally, I’d roll my eyes or just pretend to go along with it, but it’s my last summer here before I head to college, and who knows, maybe my last summer here ever, and I made a promise to myself that I’m going to savor each and every minute I have left in this place so I do what Dad says and stop, face the water, and close my eyes. The salt is so thick in the air that I can taste it in my mouth before I even have a chance to inhale.
When I do try and take a deep breath, I can’t. My lungs are already full, but it’s not of air. I cough one of those gross wet coughs where you can feel stuff moving around in your lungs. And the air really is like a salt lick because what I do cough up tastes like I’ve been licking one all day.
My mother comes to my side to ask if I’m okay. I nod wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and flash her a smile, reassuring her that I’m fine. She reminds me that I always get a cold at the end of the summer. She’s right. I always do.
I smirk to myself. Mallory will be wearing her surgical mask the entire trip home so she doesn’t catch my cold. She’ll be giving me her usual raised eyebrow side glances every time I sneeze like I’ve got the zombie plague. I make a mental note to throw in some additional fake sneezes and coughs for good measure.
We continue walking, and I realize that my feet are aching to the point that I’m limping. I do my best to hide it so Mom won’t worry. I don’t want to complain either, she’s heard enough of those today. Besides, she said we’re almost there, so I’ll be able to rest them soon.
The white and yellow of approaching headlights spread wide in the light of dawn like portals of blurry suns. I pause and shield my eyes for a moment before we all continue on. A horn blasts loud from a passing car, making Maya jump and Mallory curse as it fades off down the road.
After a few more miles, the road becomes thin and cracked with no marking separating the lanes. There are no more lights or bars or people.
Mindy whines to my Dad, and he assures her again that we are almost there, but I’m beginning to think there doesn’t exist.
A black truck pulls up beside us and stops. It’s on big lifted tires. I crane my neck when the window rolls down. A man appears although he’s so high up I can’t make out his face.
“Miss, you need a ride?” he asks, sounding concerned.
I smile and my lips crack, a trickle of blood runs down my jaw, and I wipe it away with my wet shirt. It stings from the salt but my smile doesn’t falter.
All three of my sisters are begging my parents to let us get into this stranger’s truck, but I know they’ll never allow it so as much as I appreciate the offer, I politely decline.
“Thank you so much, but no thank you.”
My sisters giggle, and although I can’t see the man, I realize that he must be cute because my sisters are giggling like idiots.
I whip my head around. “Shhh, don’t be rude,” I say between my teeth and turn back to the stranger. “Sorry about them.”
“Them,” he says, as if he doesn’t understand why young women would be giggling in his presence. I might be, too, but his face is even blurrier now than it was when he first pulled up. In fact, everything is blurrier now.
We need to keep going so we can get there. “Thanks again for the offer,” I say to the man, “but as you can see, even if we were to take you up on your kind offer, your truck doesn’t have a backseat, and I don’t think it can accommodate all six of us.”
“All six of you,” he repeats. It’s not a statement or a question.
My feet ache, and I’m shifting from one to the other. I’m eager to send this stranger on his way because I’m finding it harder and harder to remain upright. “Yeah, you don’t think I’d leave my family here and go with you alone, did you?” I ask. I turn back to my Dad and shoot him a shrug. He smiles proudly, no doubt at the realization that his constant stranger-danger talks have sunk in.
“Miss, where is your family?” he asks, tentatively.
I frown. I mean, my vision is blurry but this man must be downright blind.
“Right behind me!” I wave my arms to where my family is gathered at the side of the road. They wave back.
He opens the driver’s door and hops down onto the pavement. I register bare arms and a white shirt, but not much else.
I don’t know if it’s the sudden movement or the long walk that has me swaying on my feet.
The man glances over my shoulder into the dark, then back at me before repeating the process again. His facial features look like a close-up image of a fly. Large and nonsensical. He scratches his head in confusion.
I growl in frustration and spin around to point my family out to him, but the movement continues even as my body stops. Everything spins. My family. The truck. The stranger. The moon above me. Faster and faster like an out of control carnival ride.
I catch one last glimpse of my family as I fall.
The last words I hear before I hit the ground are deep and garbled.
“Miss…there ain’t nobody behind you.”
* * *
Want to read more of Pike’s story? CLICK HERE
ALSO BY T.M. FRAZIER
THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
PERVERSION (Book 1)
POSSESSION (Book 2)
PERMISSION (Book 3)
* * *
THE OUTSKIRTS DUET
THE OUTSKIRTS (Book 1)
THE OUTLIERS (Book 2)
THE KING SERIES
LISTED IN RECOMMENDED READING ORDER
* * *
Jake & Abby’s Story (Standalone)
The Dark Light of Day (Prequel)
* * *
King & Doe’s Story (Duet)
KING (Book 1)
TYRANT (Book 2)
* * *
Bear & Thia’s Story (Duet)
LAWLESS (Book 3)
SOULLESS (Book 4)
* * *
Rage & Nolan’s Story (Standalone)
ALL THE RAGE (Spinoff)
* * *
Preppy & Dre’s Story (Triplet)
PREPPY PART ONE (Book 5)
PREPPY PART TWO (Book 6)
PREPPY PART THREE (Book 7)
* * *
Smoke & Frankie’s Story (Standalone)
UP IN SMOKE (Spinoff)
* * *
Nine & Lenny’s Story
NINE, THE TALE OF KEVIN CLEARWATER
* * *
Pike’s Story (Duet)
Pike (Book 1)
Pawn (Book 2)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.M. Frazier
T.M. Frazier never imagined that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she’s a USA Today bestselling author. Her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world.
T.M. enjoys writing what she calls ‘wrong side of the tracks’ romance with sexy, morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines.
Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay.
She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream.
For more information please visit her website www.tmfrazierbooks.com
Join her Facebook Group, Frazierland!
King of the Causeway, a King Series Novella Page 9