Past Truths

by Em Pitts

  Past Truths

  The Predestined Time Trilogy Book One

  Em Pitts

  Copyright © 2019 by Em Pitts

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  For the husband, who is just right for me.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  About the Author

  1

  “God damn it!” I rubbed my head that had to be sporting an egg-sized lump, even if I couldn’t feel it yet. “What is it, Earl?” I grudgingly asked.

  It better be important, since he felt the need to scream my name while I was arranging the box of customer files under the desk. Note to self, keep your head clear of objects that could be potentially harmful when your boss is around.

  “I've got a project for you!” Earl unnecessarily hollers again. He is in the same room as me, twenty feet or less away. I don't think the man ever learned what an inside voice meant.

  “Of course you do,” I mumble under my breath.

  Ever since he figured out that I have a knack for not leaving something broken without trying my damnedest to fix it—most of the time resulting in it being fixed—he hasn’t left me alone with his projects. I truly despise my inability to leave well enough alone right now.

  Plastering on a fake smile, I crawl out from under the desk to look towards the shop doors where my grey-haired boss waits in his polo and slacks with a…clock in his hands? My confusion must show on my face because he starts explaining immediately.

  “I found it at a garage sale. It’s antique and got to be worth a pretty penny. If you could fix it up for me, I’ll take it down to the pawn shop and be guaranteed to get back triple what I paid for it, if not more!” He smiles wide and drops it on the desk that I just cleaned and organized. I think I manage to keep my smile in place, but just to be sure I don’t risk losing my job, I bite down hard on my cheek to keep my mouth closed.

  The moment he steps out of the side door to the bay I am immediately sagging into my seat in exhaustion. I have been working here for the last year as a secretary and trying to learn the little bits I can about cars when I’m allowed away from the desks. It is not often. That man somehow finds a way to keep adding more duties to my ever-growing list of responsibilities. At this rate, I’ll never get out from behind this desk and under the hood of a car.

  Looking at the heap of metal—brass?—I try to figure out what kind of clock this is. It is big and clunky looking and only has one hand on the clock face. What kind of broken junk am I dealing with now?

  I’ve never messed with clocks besides the simple black digital one in my home. I prefer using an actual clock for an alarm rather than my phone. When it went out, I ran Abby to school late twice before I decided to take matters into my own hands. By that, I mean I bought a new one.

  Not knowing where else to start, I took a picture with my phone and searched the image on google to find what I was dealing with. The results brought up a...seventeenth century clock. This will be fabulous, sarcasm intended. The chime over the door alerted me to customers and I donned my fake smile for the day.

  Surprisingly, we remained busy for the whole day with various customers getting everything from oil changes to a flooded transmission. Earl wasn’t thrilled that his clock was still broken, but he can kiss my ass. I only have two arms and my mind cannot multitask that much. Although Wednesdays are normally not so busy, it was still a shit call to expect the clock to be ready that afternoon.

  Getting off work, I headed straight to the grocery store to spend what was left of my measly check from the week prior. Abby needed some things that could not wait, which meant I would too soon. Female cycles sync every time you put women together. We've been living together long enough for this fact to be true.

  Living and working in Danvers, Massachusetts had its challenges and benefits. It wasn’t as busy as Salem with tourists, although we still got our fair share. People still wanted to come to visit Oniontown. Go figure. It could be more expensive though. I’m lucky there are places like my apartment building. Income-based rent helps tremendously. A further bonus, work isn’t far from home. Neither was the grocery store in between.

  I entered the store quickly hoping to get home soon. I always stay later than I like these days at the shop, but I dodged out today as soon as I could to surprise Abby with dinner. Lost in my thoughts as I headed to the hygiene aisle, I did not see the plaid shirt until I was connecting with it as I turned on the aisle.

  “Shit, sorry.” I muffled from behind my hand as I rubbed my nose. That was a seriously hard shoulder. The man turned around and I groaned for a different reason.

  “Tess, how good to see you!” Paul shot me a bright smile. I strained a smile back his way and tried to edge around his towering frame.

  It's not that he was a bad guy by any means. He was good looking and remarkably sweet too. I also knew from experience that he had extremely defined muscles underneath that plaid. I just could not stand the way he treated me lately.

  His smile slipped as he realized I was trying to get away. He reached out a hand to place on my shoulder in what I am sure he meant as a comforting gesture.

  “Tess, you’re not still upset about the breakup, are you? You know I never meant to hurt you that way. I just needed to finally be true to myself.” See, extremely sweet. Sickeningly so lately.

  By true to himself, he means he had to go find someone with a bigger dick than I had. As in, he left me for another man. Which is fine, honestly. I let go of the bitter feelings about a month afterward and realized that it was not me, he just truly needed someone to give him things I was missing. Namely of the penis variety. Now, if he would just stop treating me like he needs to handle me with kid gloves then we would be fine. It has been a year and a half and it is time to move on.

  Fortunately, Jeremy started coming down the aisle and interrupted Paul’s “It wasn’t you, it's me” speech. I smiled a real smile at Jeremy. He was hot and sweet, the total package. If he swung both ways and was interested in me, I might have even fought Paul over him. Alas, it was not meant to be. I waved and quickly diverted my attention to the absorbency products and picked out what was needed for me and my sister.

  I heard Jeremy trying to redirect Paul's attention behind me as h
e attempted to continue trying to comfort me in his way. I held up the box of pads and tampons with another smile and trudged on down the aisle ignoring both men. I knew Jeremy would keep Paul distracted while I made my getaway.

  Unlike Paul, Jeremy noticed that I did not need to be coddled and was truly over the failure of a relationship between Paul and myself. Of course, that could be because I cursed Paul out quite a few times in the past from these talks. It gets annoying when someone won't shut up about something that happened in the past I would rather forget. I may be over it now, but shortly after it happened, I felt depressed that I turned my boyfriend gay. Illogical, I know. I questioned if it was something I did for almost a whole month.

  Abby was the one who pointed out that my moping was depressing to watch, causing me to fix myself and be better for her. I'm honestly just to the point of exhaustion with the man now; therefore, it's always best to avoid him. I shook my head to clear it of past failures and hurts.

  I walked towards the checkout as I mentally tallied my total, realizing I would have five dollars left to last me the next two days. Might as well get a candy bar or three.

  I would say I'm tired of being broke, but I'm pretty sure that's just another topic I have exhausted myself on. I feel no reason to stress out about something I'm unable to change. At least not until I can get what I need for school, then make more for Abby and myself. Which won't be easy with the way my schedule stays so packed. I end that thought process knowing that it will lead to that unnecessary stressing I refuse to do.

  Yeah, a candy bar sounds good right about now.

  Pulling into the parking lot at a quarter to six, I sighed. It was starting to grate on me that I was never here when Abby got home from school. Hell, most nights it was dark by the time I pulled into my spot. I never got those extra moments of helping with homework or making dinner.

  With Sundays being my only day off, we had less time together than I cared for. I know she is plenty old enough to take care of herself and that she was taking care of herself for years before she ever met me. I guess somewhere along the way I just realized I needed to be her big sister probably more than she needed me to.

  Staring at the blue apartment door ahead of me I took a deep breath and released everything from my day. At least I could get this night with her. I was going to take advantage of that fact.

  “Honey, I’m home.” I sing as I kick the door shut.

  Our one-bedroom apartment is small, but it is all I can afford for us right now. Everything is an open concept with the exception of the bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen has a small round wooden table where Abby sits doing her homework currently with her laptop and books spread out. The living room has a three-seater green sofa and CRT T.V. with a VHS player. It works fine so there’s no point getting a new one right now and I can still watch my VHS’s. I glance away from the couch that is calling my name before I do something foolish like sit down.

  My eyes drift to the folding doors that hide the washer and dryer along the wall. Looking that way, I make a note to pick up the clothes off the floor of the bedroom and get them done. I probably have three loads by now, because I don’t really care for house chores. Thank goodness for dishwashers or I would hate to see my sink area. I look towards the sink with our glasses and plates from this morning. A few more dishes rest inside needing to be taken care of as well.

  Abby looks up and mumbles something, I am going to assume it was a greeting, before going back to her work. I make my way through the bedroom to the bathroom to put up the tampons and pads (because variety is the spice of life) and head back to her in no time.

  She looks exhausted with her brunette hair sitting in a messy bun as she slouches staring at her book. Well, this won’t do. Abby squeals as I engulf her in a giant hug and pull her down from the chair.

  "What is wrong with you?" She shouts, her voice muffled from myself and the floor.

  "I'm home before dark and you can't even say 'hey' to me?" I start tickling her sides. "How was your day, Tess? I'm so glad your home, Tess!" I mock her and refuse to give up tickling her ribs as she howls.

  "Stop! I'm going to pee!" She laughs.

  Well, that's the magic word. I release her and smile at the happiness I see on her face. Much better.

  "How was school?" I ask and hold out a hand to help her up. I make my way to the fridge to figure out what is for dinner as she talks.

  "Fine." She replies. I stare at her with raised brows waiting on her to elaborate. "Jimmy asked Amber to prom today." She shrugs her shoulders and gets back to her work.

  I feel ashamed to admit that I have no idea who Jimmy or Amber are. We really need a girl's day to catch up on all that I'm missing in her life right now. Maybe I can save up and take those archery lessons with her that she asked about? Or we can just take a day trip to Boston, which is cheaper. I rolled my eyes at my thoughts.

  “Amber is your friend from Chemistry?” I take a guess as I decide on doing quesadillas and rice for dinner.

  “No, that’s Jessica. Amber is the one I asked you about coming over last week. The dancer.” Oh, right.

  I wasn’t here until after she had left that day. Damn Earl made me stay to fix a transaction that was filed fifty times too many in the computer. I still do not know how that happened and it was a nightmare to fix. I may have gone on a rant that made my coworkers scared of working the computers afterward. At least they are still double checking each transaction before completing it.

  “Well, I am glad she got asked to prom. Have you made up your mind about going yet?” I took a seat at the table as she started putting her books and laptop away.

  “No. I was waiting for someone to ask me. I don’t know if I will go now though.” She started plucking at her shirt as she looked down at the table.

  “And why ever not?” I raised my brow.

  “Because Jimmy asked Amber.” She repeated sullenly. Why would Jimmy asking…Oh. Jimmy asked Amber.

  “And that bitch is going with him?” I was outraged on Abby’s behalf. What kind of friend makes a move on a guy that you like? Abby laughed at me.

  “I thought you were happy that she got asked?” She smirked.

  “That was before I knew her Jimmy was your Jimmy. Why did I not know that you had a Jimmy?” I was affronted.

  I may not be around as much as I would like, but crushes are something you tell your sister. Right? She rolled her eyes at my question.

  “I don’t have him obviously.” She pointed out.

  I growled and turned off the boiling pot of water I just made. Startled, Abby watched me get my keys and purse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To take you to kick a teenage bitch's ass, obviously. Come on, wear comfy shoes.” I nudged her tennis shoes towards her with my foot.

  Abby really started losing it then. Full belly laughs where she was bent over trying to catch her breath and stop. At this rate, I was going to have to put her shoes on for her.

  Rule one of girl fights: wear comfy shoes. You always fall in heels and sandals snap easy. Comfy shoes make for good balance which makes for a decent fight. Cross your fingers that the other chick is wearing sandals and you’ll be golden. She finally got control enough to walk to me and wrap her arms around me.

  “I told her it was okay. If Jimmy wanted to go with me, he would have asked me. Yeah, it sucks. But I can’t make him like me instead of her and I won’t deny her happiness just to please me.” She pulled away and looked at me. "I’ll be fine eventually. Just like you always are when things don’t go your way."

  Tears welled in my eyes. This is my sister, not by blood, but by choice and she makes me so damn proud. I did not have the words for how proud I was of her maturity at the age of sixteen, so I just hugged her. I may have held on tighter than was necessary, but no one would know the difference.

  “I love you.”

  “Love you too, big sis.”

  "Proud of you," I mumbled in her hair.

  "You
have to say that." She responded. We both knew she was playing it off though.

  Neither one of us had someone in our lives who was proud of us. It's part of the reason that we click so well. Trying to ease the serious moment, I snorted at her.

  "Be prouder if we kicked the bitch's ass though," I stated still offended that Amber broke girl code. Abby just chuckled at me.

  "Want help with dinner?” She offered, making me smile.

  "Sure. Do you want to make rice? I'll do the quesadillas." It was her turn to snort.

  "You're just saying that because you either undercook or burn the rice every time." She went to empty out the pot and refill it. "Here's a hint, measure the amount of water and rice. Then cook it fully.”

  "Well, they should write that on the package." I sniffed.

  "It's written right on the back!" She went as far as to point it out on the rice bag. "Maybe you need some glasses in your old age." She taunted.

  I gasped. Being twenty-four makes me only eight years older than her. Seven actually, since her birthday was coming up.

  "You little shit! Just for that, you get laundry duty too!" I crowed.

  I set about making the best canned-chicken quesadillas our broke asses could make. Abby and I continued our bantering until she went to sleep in the bedroom and I went to sleep on the couch.

  I was lucky enough to smile and laugh the whole night because I had her with me. The lumpy couch, crap paying job, and cheaper dinners were bearable as long as I had these moments with my sister. Yeah, I admitted it to myself as I closed my eyes for the night. I needed her more than she needed me.