Runaway Love

by Washington, Pamela

  Copyright © 2015 Pamela Washington

  Published May 28, 2015 by Pamela Washington

  Cover Design by Danielle Burton

  Editing by Tina Donaldson

  Formatting by That Formatting Lady (Angela Shockley)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Dedication

  Grace

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Acknowledgments

  About Pamela

  Sneak Peek: The Protector, Tony’s Story

  Sneak Peek: The Risk, Scott’s Story

  This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Dorothy…

  I hope you're proud of the woman I became. I love and

  miss you. Continue to watch over me and the family.

  Follow your dreams! It's never too early, and it’s never too late!

  Take chances and the rest will follow.

  Love...I’m damned if I do, damned if I don't.

  How did I get myself into this complicated situation? I just wanted to be loved, to matter to someone, to feel like I’m worth something, to belong…

  I grew up in foster care where I met my first love. Hell, the love of my life! He left with a promise to return, but he broke his promise…and my heart. I was shattered! I wanted to die!

  But I was saved by a man who loves me, protects me, takes care of me, and worships me. I married him, but I can’t give him my heart. I can’t love him as much as he loves me. We have a son, whom I adore. My life appears to be perfect, but it’s not enough! I still yearn for my first love!

  When he returns, I’m faced with a decision…Do I choose what's right or what seems right, but is wrong? Do I choose safe love or runaway love?

  This is my story, my life…Can I handle it?

  All my life I had known nothing but rejection, loneliness, and abandonment. I had no idea what it felt like to be loved or even cared about. I had never felt secure, safe, or protected. I was born into this world just to be neglected and forgotten, and I feared I would die the same way.

  No one could ever tell me how I ended up in the foster care system; my case-workers just said I had been there since I was born. How does someone not know how they came to be? I can’t answer that question even though it’s the story of my life. All I know is that I am pretty fucked up inside, and I have no idea how to fix it.

  Foster care is a joke for kids like me. Sure, the posters show happy kids who are chosen to be part of happy families, but most kids don’t get to experience that happiness. I certainly didn’t. My case-workers told me it was because I was moody and uncooperative. They told me I needed to try harder to include myself into the families, be a “team player” when I was in a home. Instead, I stayed to myself. I preferred looking out a window, thinking and watching the world pass me by. How could I become a part of a family when I had no idea how to do it? No one taught me how to love or be loved. All I knew was myself. All I knew was that I wouldn’t let myself down; hell, I couldn’t very well abandon myself! So, I was bounced from foster home to foster home for fifteen years until I wound up in a group home run by Ms. Allen.

  Ms. Allen’s group home was a special kind of hell, almost like a hell for misfit kids who were outcasts among the millions of kids who lived in the world. It was an old, two-story house that had seen better days. It was clean and organized, thanks to the kids who lived there; but the sadness and despair that lived within its walls seeped into everyone who walked through the front door. It was a place for society’s rejects – the furniture no one else wanted, the food no one else would eat, the clothes no one else would wear, and the kids who no one else wanted…I have no idea how many kids were there at any given time. I preferred to stay to myself, and Ms. Allen didn’t care as long as I completed my chores, didn’t cause any trouble, and stayed out of her way. But trouble always seemed to find me in the form of Paul, a fellow group home member who loved to suck up to Ms. Allen. As a reward for his obedience and loyalty to her, Ms. Allen happily punished me based on whatever lies Paul told her. I don’t know why Paul hated me so much or why he liked to see me suffer. I guess I was just an easy target, and he was just an ass.

  I spent my days at Ms. Allen’s writing, drawing, and wishing my life away. I was miserable – I had no friends, school was a nightmare, and no one cared about me. I hated the world as much as it hated me…until Scott saved me from my isolating hell. Scott was the first person to break my protective barrier and get to know me. He showed me what life could be, should be, like with love, understanding, and friendship. Scott was truly everything to me – friend, brother, confidante, protector. He was my whole world, and I thought I was his as well.

  Scott and I spent most of our time at Ms. Allen’s together. We talked a lot – well, I talked while he listened. Scott even tried to protect me when Ms. Allen was on one of her tirades; he’d take my punishments for me until Paul told her what was happening. Then she’d get extra satisfaction out of punishing both of us. However, not even Paul and Ms. Allen could ruin my joyful happiness with Scott.

  I felt so carefree and light to finally have someone who cared about me, listened to what I had to say, and included me in different activities. I was always content to just be in Scott’s presence. I especially loved watching him play soccer – his talent and skill were over and beyond how the other kids played, but he was a gracious player. He never tried to steal the spotlight or show off; he was a team player first and foremost. I loved Scott even more for that. It showed how much he considered other peoples’ feelings and looked out for those he cared about. Yes, my Scott was truly an amazing guy.

  To say Scott saved me is an understatement. He brought light into my dark world. He brought companionship to my loneliness. He brought life into my dead soul. For the first time in my life, I felt like I mattered to someone, like I belonged. Finally, I knew what it was like to be worthy of love and affection, and I knew what it was like to share myself and care about someone else. Scott and I even made plans for our future. We were going to be together, no matter what. We had thought about running away, but Scott knew it wouldn’t work because he’d have no way to take care of me. Plus, if we were caught, our case workers could decide to separate us, and there was no way we could take that chance. We were happy just to be together with the world and its possibilities at our fingertips.

  My entire world collapsed the day Scott told me he was leaving. He was seventeen, so he was able to leave whenever he chose; but since I was only fifteen, I had to stay behind. Scott promised me he'd be back. He said he had a plan to create a happy, stable life for us - he was going to get a well-paying job and find a nice home. He told me I would always be on his mind until we could be together. I never doubted his promise to come back for me. In fact, that promise is what kept me going during my darkest, loneliest days. I was certain I would open the door one day to find Scott ready to whisk me away from my living hell.

  Now it’s ten years later, and I'm a twenty-five year-old married woman with a five year-old son. One would think that I’m happily s
ettled down and living my dream, but even after all these years, I’m still waiting…

  Holy shit! I feel my heart accelerate and my body shake as I stare in shocked disbelief at the glossy magazine covers while I’m waiting to check out at the grocery store. I somehow manage to place my items on the belt before I grab a magazine. Sure enough, it’s him. I run my fingers over a picture of Scott lying on the beach with a beautiful blonde. I quickly flip through the pages to find his story: SCOTT PETERS RELAXING ON BEACH WITH MAXINE RIVERS!

  I’ve tried Googling him throughout the years, but I was never able to find information on him. Now I know why! He changed his last name and moved to England. He must’ve really wanted to get away from me!

  “Excuse me, people have places to go!” a rude customer behind me snarls out, interrupting my thoughts. I place the magazine back on the shelf and pay for my groceries. I glance at Scott’s picture one more time with a new mission in mind.

  When I get home, I’m relieved to discover my husband, Tony, isn't there so I have some private time before I have to pick up my son. With an odd feeling of urgency, I grab my laptop and immediately start Googling SCOTT PETERS. I practically devour the pictures and information that pop up on my screen. I search through the images first, needing to see the boy – er, man – who shattered my heart. I find several pictures of him with the same gorgeous, blonde model he was on the beach with in the magazine. I'm guessing this is his girlfriend. I start reading some of the articles about him and learn he's a famous soccer player in England. Wow! How did that happen? I knew he was a great player, but I never imagined he’d become a wealthy, famous professional!

  I feel an intense hunger to know everything about him as I totally immerse myself into the online world of Scott Peters. I should be pissed at him and angry that he almost destroyed me, but I can’t hate him or even be mad because Scott is still part of me. If I’m being honest for a change, I still want him in my life, even though I am married to an incredibly wonderful man. Yes, I’m fucked up.

  I’m elated when I find his contact information on his personal website. Before I can second-guess myself or feel guilty, I send him a quick e-mail saying hi and reminding him who I am. I doubt he’ll ever see it, but at least I tried. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I’m hoping he gets my message and responds right away. Yes, I’m really fucked up.

  I look at the time. Shit! It’s five-thirty already, and I only have thirty minutes to get across town to my son's karate lesson. I drive like a mad woman and make it there in fifteen minutes. As I settle my nerves, I watch Scottie finish his practice. Yes, I named my son Scott - don’t judge me.

  “Mom! Mom, today was so much fun!” I watch Scottie bounce up and down as we walk to the car. He’s always such a happy and energetic little man. I wish I could have some of his energy and exuberance!

  “That's good, son! Are you going to help me cook dinner?” He enjoys helping me cook, and it’s one of my favorite activities for us to do together.

  “Yes, Mom. I want hamburgers with CHEESE!” Scottie’s smile reaches his ears as he announces his dinner choice, and my heart melts.

  “All right, Scottie, hamburgers with cheese it is,” I respond with a smile as I buckle him into his car seat. “But first, what is the magic word?”

  “Please, Mom?”

  “Okay. Anything for my favorite guy.”

  When we get home, Scottie and I immediately start making my famous hamburgers with cheese so dinner will be ready by the time my husband gets home. As if on cue, Tony walks in with his briefcase in one hand while loosening his tie with the other hand. I look at my husband with his whiskey brown eyes and tussled black hair; he must’ve been running his fingers through his hair because of the stress.

  “Is everything okay, honey?” I ask even though I already know he’ll say everything is okay.

  “Yes, baby, I'm fine. The office is doing some downsizing, and unfortunately I had to let go of a few good people.” I watch him ruffle Scott's hair before he pours a glass of Scotch.

  “Scottie, let's set the table, please.” Scottie, ever so helpful, immediately scuttles off to grab the napkins and silverware while I get the plates. I love that I don’t have to ask our son more than once to do something. Even though Scottie is only five, Tony and I have made sure to instill in him the importance of respect, cooperation, and compassion. My, how life would’ve been different if those qualities had been practiced in the group home!

  When we sit down to eat, I watch Tony and Scottie interact with each other. I love seeing the special father-son bond they share. I hear my phone chime, breaking my reverie. I get up to check my phone and see that it's an email from Scott's publicist simply saying:

  Scott would like for you to call him at the following number at nine am U.S. time.

  I stare at the phone number in disbelief. All I have to do is press those numbers to hear Scott’s voice again? I’m going to talk to Scott again after ten years! My excitement makes me forget the pain of his broken promises. In fourteen hours, Scott will be back in my life! I’m smiling from ear to ear when my husband stops talking to Scottie to look at me curiously.

  “You’re smiling! Who sent you such good news?” Tony questions me, an affectionate smile forming on his face.

  “Oh, just Kimberly. She has news about the new neighbors,” I lie as I try to tone down my smile. I have to remember to keep my excitement to myself so Tony doesn’t get suspicious.

  “Ah, you women and your gossip,” Tony says jokingly and winks at me before he turns his attention back to Scottie.

  Before I return to the table, I save the number and delete the email. Should I be surprised that I can lie so easily to my husband? Probably not since I’ve never been fully honest with him since the day we started talking to each other. I sit down with a more relaxed look on my face and join the conversation as much as my mind will let me. I’m thankful for some alone time as I clear the table while Scottie does his homework and washes up for bed and Tony goes in the living room to watch the news. I can't wait for morning to come so I can call Scott! Luckily, I have international calls.

  I finish the dishes, kiss Tony, and head upstairs to help Scottie get ready for bed. My son's room is karate themed from floor to ceiling, and it’s the perfect place for a five year-old boy to feel safe, peaceful, and loved. I made it a point to have Scottie involved in choosing the décor for his room and then decorating it as a family.

  “Scottie, is your homework done?”

  “Yes, Mom. It was easy! It was just cut and paste. I even cleaned up my mess.” Scottie’s so bright and independent for his age!

  “That’s great, honey! I’m so proud of you! It’s time for bed, do you need Mommy to tuck you in?”

  “No, Mom. I'm almost six.” The indignant tone in his voice makes me smile and love him even more. Scottie is going to grow up to be a fine man like his father. He’ll be respectful, dependable, loving, and kind. What more could a mother ask for in her son?

  I laugh while I give him a kiss on the forehead and tell him, “Okay, Scottie. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom.” Every time I hear Scottie tell me this, I break inside because I never had the opportunity to say those words. I would’ve been an amazing daughter, but no one gave me that chance. I shake my head, trying to clear away my sadness and close the door to let Scottie sleep.

  I go into the shower and just let the hot water from the showerhead pour down my body. As I wash off, I notice the big scar on my knee and remember how it happened.

  I was mad and rebelling after Scott left. I tried sneaking out the window, but I ended up falling out of it and deeply cutting my knee on a piece of glass, instead. I sat in that spot for about twenty minutes until I realized I needed to go to the hospital. I was crying silently because I didn’t want anyone to hear me, but I guess I wasn’t quiet enough because when I looked around the corner, I saw a ticked-off Ms. Allen with her hand on her hip.

  “Well, Grace, what were you trying
to do?” I didn’t answer her, I couldn’t get any words out. She looked down at my knee, saw all the blood, and laughed at me before turning away.

  I wondered if she was going to leave me there, but she returned with Tony and Paul to help me back into the house. I thought that was the nicest thing she had ever done for me, but that was until they took me into the bathroom and she had a big bottle of vodka in her hand. They sat me down onto the toilet seat. Paul, being Ms. Allen’s lackey, stayed while Tony left. I knew his tender heart couldn’t handle being there to watch.

  Paul began to roughly clean my cut out so Ms. Allen could slowly pour the whole big bottle of Vodka on to my knee. I had never been in so much pain in my life! I screamed so loudly that Paul covered my mouth with his hands. I thought I was going to be sick, but I didn’t see anything else because I blacked out.

  I hear a knock at the bathroom door that brings me back to reality.

  “Is everything okay, baby?” Tony asks with obvious concern in his voice.

  “I’m fine, honey. I’m coming out right now.” I turn the shower off, wrap a towel around my body, and walk into our bedroom. I sit in front of the vanity and dry myself off. I watch Tony approach me from behind to help dry my hair.

  “Grace, you’re so beautiful… I’ve been in awe of your beauty since the day I met you. I love you more and more every day, if that’s even possible.” I love how Tony looks at me with so much love in his eyes.

  “Well, thank you, honey. Let’s be like old people and lie in bed and watch I Love Lucy.” He knows that’s my favorite show, so I know he won’t deny my request.