The Girl I Once Loved: Love & Hate Duet

An incoming text wakes me up from my restless sleep the next morning.

Since I’ve been home and back in this room, it’s fair to say that a good night’s sleep just isn’t in the cards for me. Not when memories of every little thing that transpired on this very bed insist on keeping me alarmingly awake for most of the night, haunting me at every turn.

Needing a distraction from my current predicament, I stretch out my arm to pick up my phone on the nightstand, hoping it’s my boss with a new assignment for me to keep me busy, only to feel a pang to my chest when I find that the text came from Gael.

I stare apprehensively at his simple three-worded text, asking how I’m doing, in the same way most authors tremble at the sight of an empty page. I’m at a complete loss for words as to what to reply, which is ironic since words are supposed to be my bread and butter.

What should I do?

Do I give him the usual non-committal response of telling him that I’m fine, or should I be honest for once and tell him the truth? That since I left Boston, I’ve reverted to being a hot mess of a woman, and that my predictable easy-going day to day life is now infused with such chaotic confusion, that I’m no longer able to distinguish up from down anymore. But I know Gael.

If I go with the truth, then he’ll want more of it, and I’m not in the right frame of mind to have that difficult conversation with him yet—if ever. Hence why I’m not surprised that in the end, I chicken out, and give him the bland reply of I’m good.

When he quickly messages me back to say he misses me, I have to curb my knee jerk reaction of asking why.

How can he miss someone who never truly existed?

The Skylar he knew was a fabrication I made up. One that was strong and independent, uncaring of anyone’s opinion but her own. A woman who was so focused on succeeding in her professional life that her emotional one took a back seat to everything else. I made her up, and for years I deceived myself into believing that was who I really was, and I was just fine living someone else’s life.

Gael had been right when he accused me of being a ghost.

I was a ghost.

I’ve been one for years now, just going through the motions, and never letting myself truly suck in the marrow that a full life has to offer.

Oh, I pretended to.

I did a bang-up job of pretending to be wild and free in college, going to parties and hooking up with total strangers just for the hell of it. I went through fuckboys faster than most people go through Kleenex reading ugly-cry books. And when that got tedious, I flipped the switch and became the perfect girlfriend to the most wonderful man anyone could ever encounter.

But even then, I was still just playing a part.

None of it was real to me.

For it to be real, it would mean I’d have to open myself up and be vulnerable. Truly vulnerable. Let someone else in and entrust them with my heart. I’d have to cut myself open and show all the ugly dark parts of my soul, trusting they would accept me for who I was, warts and all.

But I had made that reckless mistake once before and vowed never to make it again.

And because of that decision, Gael ended up being punished for it.

He doesn’t deserve half a life.

He’s good, and kind, and so damn in tune with his feelings, that he puts my unwilling attempts to shame. He’s one of the most incredible, decent men I have ever met.

He deserves more.

More than I’ll ever be able to give him.

And because I know this, I vacillate texting Gael back with an ‘I miss you too’, preferring to stick to callous ways of leaving him on read instead. Whether we are on a break, or we’re officially no longer together, he doesn’t deserve to have his feelings played with. Even if I miss him, it wouldn’t be fair of me to say so.

And I do miss him.

But selfishly, for all the wrong reasons.

I miss how he calmed me. How his influence steadied me. He was able to tame the violent storm that lived and breathed within me, giving it a safe port to seek refuge in. It took me returning to Thatcher’s Bay to see how I took that calming influence for granted.

Maybe there is a lesson here.

A lesson on how it feels to have someone love you so unconditionally when your heart is incapable of loving them back. But if that’s the case, then it’s a pretty fucked up way to go about it.

Besides if anyone has a karmic teaching coming to them, it sure as hell shouldn’t be me. Noah is the one who karma should pay a visit to. That bitch should be banging on his door nonstop instead of wasting her time with me.

But then again, life is never fair.

Sometimes the bad guys win in the end.

And the good ones never measure up.

“Nope,” I say out loud into my empty room. “This is not how I’m going to start my morning.”

My stepbrother doesn’t get to ruin my day when it’s barely started.

Determined to ignore the chaotic whirlwind that is Noah Fontaine, I lift off the bed and cross my legs, placing myself in a meditative pose. I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath and then exhale, forcibly pushing every wayward thought out of my head, focusing only on my breathing.

Ten minutes later, it’s in this meditative state that my sister finds me.

“Well, this is new,” Daisy singsongs, pulling me away from the only moments of peace I’ve had since I came back to this godforsaken island.

“I see you still don’t know how to knock,” I chastise, shaking my head disapprovingly while keeping my eyes shut.

“What can I say? Old habits are hard to break,” she teases, jumping onto my bed behind me.

“Kind of busy here, Daisy,” I mumble when I feel her getting comfortable, stretching her legs on the duvet until her bare feet graze my knee.

“Don’t mind me. Just do your thing, squirt. I’ll wait.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, forcing myself not to say anything in return, determined to finish my meditation in the hopes that it will balance me out for the day ahead.

But when I hear a familiar flick of a page, all my senses skyrocket in alarm.

“Hey!” I exclaim in outrage after catching my sister reading the notebook I always keep on my bedside table. It’s the same one I scribble on in the middle of the night when my thoughts and ideas get too loud for me to sleep, needing me to purge them out of my brain and onto a blank page. “Don’t read that!” I order, pulling it out of her grabby hands. “That’s private.”

“Sooooorrrrry!” she says exaggeratedly. “It’s not like it had a ‘don’t touch me’ sign on it. Geez!”

“It doesn’t need one. This is still my room, Daisy, which means everything in it is hands off.”

But instead of getting upset with me, Daisy bursts into a fit of giggles, leaning forward on the bed just far enough to place her chin on my shoulder, and hug me from behind.

“I know it’s silly, but I missed this. I can’t remember the last time you told me not to touch your stuff.”

A warmth spreads through me at her innocent confession, destroying whatever furious indignation I had before. I cover her clasped hands with mine and tilt my head to the side to gently press against her temple.

“I missed it, too.”

“Yeah?” she whispers expectantly.

“Yeah.” I nod.

The beaming smile she offers me in return works better than any meditation possibly could. If I wanted to find some solace, an inkling of peace, I should have known I’d find it in my sister’s company. Daisy is still that ray of sunshine that has the power to cast away any stormy cloud. It shames me how much effort I had put into forgetting that about her.

But then again, it was never her I wanted to forget.

It was him.

“You’re here early this morning,” I state, not wanting that sullen thought to ruin the perfect moment we’re having.

“I know. I thought you might like to come to the farmer’s market with me this morning.”

“Farmer’s market?! Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” I laugh.

“Stop.” She giggles, hugging me tighter. “I know it’s not my thing, but it’s for a good reason. Tonight is the big Fourth of July party on Main Street, and Derrick signed us up as volunteers to tend to the corn on the cob booth. Can’t have that if there’s not enough corn to sell. That’s why I need to go to the market this morning and buy some more, just to make sure we have enough for tonight. And since Derrick is busy with today’s big boat race, I could use another pair of hands to help me out. What do you say? Want to come with me?”

“Sure. Why not? Sounds like fun. Let me just grab a quick shower and get dressed, and then we can go on your corn hunt. I’m curious to see my big sister try to haggle an ear of corn from one of the vendors.”

“It will be like stealing candy from a baby.” She beams, releasing her grip from me so she can lean back on the bed, holding herself up by her elbows. “All I’ve got to do is flash one of these,” she points to her wide grin, “or flash them one of these,” she adds mischievously, shaking her shoulders in a way that has her breasts doing a little dance.

“I very much doubt that your fiancé will be thrilled to learn that his soon-to-be-wife is shaking her goodies for a discount.” I giggle teasingly.

“Nah, Derrick won’t mind. He knows it’s all harmless fun, and that at the end of the day, no matter who I flirt with, I always end up in his bed. It’s been that way with us since the very start. Trust me, Derrick is used to it by now.” She grins with a wistful sparkle in her blue eyes, as if reminiscing about those first few romantic encounters between them.

I won’t lie. I’ve always been curious about how Derrick and Daisy ended up together in the first place. Not that I’ve had much success in figuring it out. Daisy has always been a private person when it came to her love life, but with Derrick, she’s like a locked vault, keeping every little nugget to herself, not wanting the outside world to influence them in any way. I’ve only ever been able to catch a few little breadcrumbs here and there over the years, but I don’t need to know the whole story to know they are meant for each other. They might be polar opposites, but somehow, they make sense. Most importantly, Derrick has a knack for always putting a smile on my sister’s face. He makes her happy, unabashedly so, and that’s enough for me.

‘Hmm, I don’t buy it. Are you saying Derrick doesn’t get jealous? Ever?’ I ask with an arched brow, calling bullshit on that scenario.

‘Oh, he gets jealous alright,’ she admits with a hooded gaze. ‘But that’s half the fun. Because when D gets jealous, then Big D comes out, and he’s very possessive, if you get my drift.’ She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

‘Ew. I don’t want to hear how you two freaks get it on. Not before I’ve had my morning coffee at least.” I laugh.

But before Daisy is able to open her mouth with one of her witty comebacks, she’s interrupted by the sound of our mother’s boisterous laughter coming from outside our front yard.

“I guess you’re right. Some things never change around here. Looks like Mom and Curt still go at it like a pair of teenagers,” I state evenly.

“Nope, it’s not Curt. He left early this morning on an errand. It’s probably just Mom and Noah goofing around.” She shrugs like what she just said is a common occurrence and not the earth shattering revelation that it is.

Did she just say Mom and Noah?

Together?

Without being forced?

What the hell.

Needing to see this with my own eyes, I jump out of bed and rush over to my window, sliding my curtain to the side.

My frown deepens when I see my mother on her knees tending to the garden, laughing away at something Noah just said. They look completely comfortable with each other, their back-and-forth banter feeling like someone just punched me in the gut. And when Noah helps my wide-grinned mother to her feet, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek before giving her a hug, my jaw slams to the floor.

It’s official.

Hell has frozen over.

And the devil is currently hugging my mother with a fucking smile on his face.

“What the fuck?!” I growl, unable to keep my temper at bay.

“What? What’s going on?” Daisy asks worriedly, rushing towards me. When she spies over my shoulder and sees the same scene I am, her curiosity morphs into confusion.

“Jesus, Sky. You startled me. I thought something was wrong.”

“Doesn’t get any more wrong than that. Seriously, that doesn’t bother you?” I point at Noah and our mother being all…all…caring with each other, like they’re friends or something.

No.

Like they’re family.

“Why would it? Nothing I haven’t seen before.” She shrugs, unfazed, walking back to the bed to sit down at its edge. “Those two are inseparable. I swear they even have their own language, always whispering in the corners. If I didn’t know Mom loves us to death, I’d swear she would have preferred having sons to daughters. And Noah loves the attention she dotes on him. Don’t tell him I said this to you, but the dude is quite the momma’s boy.” She laughs, unaware how those words strike such a painful chord inside me.

Yes.

Me, more than anyone, knows just how much Noah has always craved motherly affection. Guess he finally found it. Not sure how I feel about it though, given the fact that it’s my mother showering him with it. The same mother who has shown me nothing but her cold shoulder since I left home.

“When…” I croak, unable to get the words out, “when…did…they become so close?”

Daisy’s expression turns pensive, as if trying to recall exactly what catalyst event could have brought these opposing forces to unite.

“Hmm, maybe after you two graduated from Bayshore High. No, wait… maybe it was when you went off to college or when Noah started working with his dad. Honestly, I’m not sure when they ended up gravitating to each other. One day they were still using monosyllabic sentences, and the next, they were spending hours sitting at the kitchen counter just talking to each other. I think they both needed someone to just vent with and ended up finding each other. I don’t know. It was so long ago. I can’t even remember a time when they weren’t mother and son.”

Mother and son.

This time, I feel the metaphorical punch to my stomach so strongly that I need to physically wrap my arms around my waist to keep the pain at bay.

“Babe, are you okay? You look pale,” Daisy states worriedly, springing to her feet and hurrying to me.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just a little lightheaded all of a sudden.”

“You know what this is? Hunger pains. You should eat something,” she says. “Grab your shower and I’ll make some breakfast for you. Do you still like toast with sprinkled cinnamon on top?”

My beloved sister having to ask me that question, like I’m a stranger to her, only increases the pain I feel inside. Not having the strength to dive into why that is, since I know damn well it’s my fault we’ve been out of sync for so long, all I do is nod.

“Okay then. I’ll wait for you downstairs, sis.” She smiles, planting a kiss to my cheek before skipping out of my room.

But instead of getting ready like I should, the masochist in me has me turning towards my window again, just to watch Noah with my mother. My brows furrow when I see that their prior light conversation has turned serious, my mother saying something to him that has them both looking lost and upset. Curiosity gets the best of me as I find myself inching closer to the window, silently opening the latch, hoping that their voices might be loud enough to carry up to me so I can eavesdrop on their conversation.

Unfortunately, it’s a futile attempt since they keep to their hushed tones—so no such luck there.

But then my shock of seeing them together increases tenfold when they both stop whatever they are talking about to stare up at my window, making me drop to the floor like a thief caught with their hand in the cookie jar. My heart drums in my chest, so loudly that I’m positive they can hear it all the way outside in the yard. It’s only when I hear the familiar sound of a bike’s throttle speeding away from the driveaway that I bravely rise from my hidden position.

Am I losing my mind, or did I just catch Noah and my mother talking about me?

I mean, why else would they simultaneously look up to my room, mid conversation?

If I want answers, then the logical thing to do is go straight to the source. And seeing as I want to limit any, and all, interactions with Noah, having a stern word with my mother will have to do. I’m not sure how I’ll bring the conversation up with her without causing a fight, but I’ll think of something.

Unfortunately for me, it will have to wait.

I promised Daisy I’d spend the morning with her, and seeing as today is the Fourth of July, I’m sure my mother will also be busy for most of the day. Though she doesn’t need a national holiday as an excuse to always keep herself busy with something or other. It hasn’t been lost on me how she hasn’t been eager for us to have some mother-daughter quality time together since my return.

Then again, neither have I.

Until now, that is.

Now, I want answers.

And my mother is going to give them to me.

“Why is everyone staring at us,” I mumble uncomfortably, holding onto the crook of my sister’s arm for protection against the wandering eyes on us as we stroll through the market situated in Town Square.

“Can you blame them?” she laughs. “I mean, look at you. This is a farmer’s market, not a fashion show.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, insulted.

When I left the house in my white buckle belted flare pants and dark blue top that fell to the left side with golden imprinted roses trickling down on it, I thought I looked pretty good in my chosen ensemble, but now with everyone staring at me, I’m wondering if I didn’t make the wrong choice.

“Don’t get me wrong. You look like a million bucks. It’s that usually people who look like you live on the other side of the island and never come down here to do their own shopping,” Daisy explains, giving my arms a comforting squeeze.

“Hmm. I think you might be right. I forgot how divided Thatcher’s Bay is. Maybe while we’re here in town, I can drop in on a few shops and buy some new clothes that have more of the island’s vibe.”

“You don’t have to change to please anyone, Sky. Just hold your head up high and own it. You’ve come a long way from that shy, awkward girl you used to be. No shame in showing everyone how much you’ve grown. You shouldn’t let anyone dim your light just because it’s too damn bright for them. If anyone gives you a hard time and has a problem with it, then they should just buy some fucking shades, or look the other way.”

God, I’ve missed her.

Daisy always has the right words to say to get me out of any funk.

And right now, her words mean more to me than she’ll ever know.

“What? Why are you looking at me with that goofy face of yours?” She giggles.

“It’s nothing. Just glad to be home, I guess.” I smile meekly.

“Well, thank fuck for that. It will be easier to convince you to help Derrick and me volunteer at the corn booth tonight. You up for it, squirt?”

“Sure.” I laugh. “But if I’m going to do that, then I’d really like to buy a few things. Maybe a few T-shirts and shorts. Just to be more comfortable.”

When her brows begin to furrow, I quickly ease her protective concern.

“The new clothes will be for me, Daisy. Not for them.” I add assuredly.

After all, my sister’s right.

Be it good or bad, I have come a long way, and I shouldn’t hide who I am from anyone.

“Okay, then,” she says with an easy grin, only for it to falter from her lips seconds later. “Shit. This is not how I wanted this to happen.”

“What?” I ask, confused. “What are you talking—” but before I have time to finish my sentence, an annoyingly high pitched shriek stops me in my tracks.

“Daisy! Skylar! Hi!” Stacy Monroe shouts at us, waving like we’re best fucking friends and not mortal enemies. But it’s not the shock of seeing Stacy that’s frozen me to the spot—it’s the baby stroller she’s holding onto.

“Come on,” Daisy mumbles under her breath, forcibly dragging me to cross the street with her.

Before I realize what my sister is doing, I’m already face to face with the girl who tried to kill me in high school.

And no, I’m not being dramatic.

Stacy really did almost kill me with that pecan stunt of hers.

Huh.

What do you know?

This bitch wanted nothing more than to make sure my heart stopped beating back in the day.

And in a way, she got her wish.

Kudos to her.

But if I thought seeing the girl who made my life a living hell in high school was bad enough, then the way my sister warmly gives her a side hug only pours salt to the wound.

“Hi, Stacy,” my sister greets with a sincere smile.

“Hi,” she greets, eyeing me nervously. “Welcome home, Skylar.”

“Thank you,” I reply dryly, purposely keeping my ‘fuck you’ expression in place.

“I…uh…,” she stammers before giving her head a little shake, as if she needed those extra seconds to compose herself. “Derrick told me you might be here this morning.” She grins at my sister. “Since it’s such a nice morning, I thought I’d bring little Joshua for a little stroll on the beach.”

“And how is my little guy?” Daisy coos, kneeling down to the stroller and finding a sleeping baby boy with hair as crimson red as his mother’s cheeks.

I don’t know why I do it, but I let out a sigh of relief when I see his hair, expecting it to be blond instead.

Thankfully, neither woman catches the faux pas, as they are too busy gushing over the little guy. I, on the other hand, am painfully aware of how awkward I’m being. After all, it’s only normal that my sister be on good terms with Stacy. In a few months, she’ll be her sister-in-law and part of Stacy’s family. Which means, in a way, she’ll be part of mine too.

Fuck.

I’ve been so in my head that I didn’t even realize that this woman will be in my life for the long haul. She’ll be as much an aunt to my sister’s future kids as I will be. I make a mental note to spoil those kids rotten and be the cool aunt. Like hell I’ll let her turn them against me.

Goddamn it.

I’m already amped up to go to war with this woman over my nephews and nieces, and they haven’t even been born yet.

I don’t even know if my sister wants kids.

I mean, she never wanted to get married before she met Derrick so I’m sure she’s probably changed her mind on that front too.

It’s not even noon and I already have a headache.

I stand there silent as Stacy and Daisy talk about some wedding preparation, counting down the seconds until they’ve said all they need to say for us to be on our way.

But just as I think that they are finally done, Stacy shocks the hell out of me with her next words.

“Daisy, would you be a dear and take Joshua to his dad so me and Skylar could have a private word? Micheal should be in there somewhere,” she points to the crowded market.

‘Don’t do it, Daisy! Don’t you dare leave me with this woman!’ my gaze begs, but apparently my sister either doesn’t see the plea in my eyes or ignores it completely.

“Sure. After you’re done, you know where to find me, Sky. Okay?” She arches a stern brow.

Fuckity fuck.

She wants me to play nice.

With Stacy fucking Monroe!

Is my sister high?!

“Why the hell not?” I answer with a bitter tone, uncaring if my sister likes my attitude or not.

She throws me a displeased frown but takes hold of Stacy’s stroller and begins to walk the opposite way into the large crowd of people, without so much a goodbye.

Not liking the position she’s put me in, I cross my arms and stare daggers into Stacy as she tries to find the words to say to me.

“God, I’ve thought so long on what I would say to you when this moment came, I’m a little lost on where to start,” she says nervously.

“An ‘I’m sorry’ would be a good start,” I quip back with all the venom I have running through my veins for her, but it doesn’t seem to dismay her in any way.

“You’re right. I am sorry. I wasn’t very nice to you when we were kids. In fact, I was a total bitch to you. I know that. And I’m sorry if I ever did anything to cause you any pain. It was never my intention.”

Is this woman for real?

“You’re joking, right?” I scoff. “You and I both know that it was always your intention to hurt me. Or do you think I’ve forgiven you for sending me to the hospital almost at death’s door? How about how you almost drowned me? How you made me the laughingstock at school, and how you and your asshole friends bullied me every day. Trauma like that isn’t so easily swept under the rug and forgotten, you know?”

To her credit, her eyes lower in shame, as if embarrassed of the things she did to me.

And as I scowl at her lowered gaze, I’m not blind to how she carries herself differently. She looks softer, kinder even, but I’m not fooled. I’ve been on this merry-go-round before, where people aren’t exactly as they seem. They say one thing but do the opposite.

No.

I don’t care if Stacy believes she’s changed.

A snake may shed its skin, but they are still cold-blooded predators, ready to jump at you the minute you’ve lowered your guard to pierce their fangs into your flesh and poison you from within.

And Stacy is a snake if I ever saw one, and not her, or anyone else will change my mind on that front.

“You’re right,” she repeats sullenly. “I know you’re right. I did do all of those things. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and that I hope that maybe one day we can put the past behind us and be friends.”

Scratch that.

Daisy isn’t the only one that’s high around here.

Stacy must be on some very powerful hallucinogenic drugs if she thinks we’ll ever be friends.

“I know it will take some time, but I honestly believe we can get there. I mean, we’re about to become family after all.”

Oh, no she didn’t.

“Listen to me very closely, Stacy.” I seethe through gritted teeth. “We are not family. Not now. Not ever. There is no written rule that says just because Daisy is marrying your brother, we have to be close. I can be civil, for my sister’s sake, but don’t expect me to be your friend, much less your family,” I explain arcticly, doing everything in my power not to drop her here where she stands with just one punch.

Stacy might have spent time wondering what to tell me if our paths ever crossed again, but so have I. And in all the scenarios I played in my head, she was on her hands and knees with a bloody lip after I sucker punched her to the ground.

I’d love nothing more than to see her bleed.

Considering this bitch has nicked me more times than I can count.

“Look at me, Skylar,” she insists, with a heartfelt tone worthy of an Oscar. “I know I hurt you, but what I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not that person anymore. I’m someone’s mother. Someone’s wife. I’m happy. Too happy to dwell on the stupid shit that went on in high school. Aren’t you?”

I stand there amazed at her brazen disregard for what she did to me.

“I mean, out of the both of us, I was sure you’d have matured into seeing things differently by now. But from what I can tell, you’re still stuck there—in the past where only heartache lives. You have to let that pain go, Skylar. For your own sake.” She sighs, as if genuinely worried about me. “I see that no matter what I say, you’ll never believe me. But I can assure you this much. I do regret many things that I did back in the day, but not all of them. Because they were all lessons in disguise, and I grew from those mistakes. Without them, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And I like who I’ve become. You might not, and that’s okay. Because the people who love me know my worth and see me for who I am.”

“Are you done?” I all but bark at her.

“Yes.” She sighs. “I guess I am.” She then gives me a disappointed look before turning around to leave in search of her family.

It’s only when her back is turned that I find my voice and say the one thing I shouldn’t.

“I loved him. And you…you…ruined it,” I choke out with closed fists, my nails biting into my palms.

She halts her step with those words and turns her head over her shoulder to look at me, complete sadness marrying her features.

“You forget that I loved him too. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for him. Nothing. Even lie.”

And with that ominous remark, she walks away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me in shambles in the middle of the street.