Tamed

Chapter Two: Not Today

Charlotte (Present Day)

My comforter is still laying on my bed exactly the way I left it almost five years ago. For the longest time I felt guilty for not coming back to visit, but I couldn't. Being in this town reminds me of all the mistakes that I made and all the heartache I left behind. Maybe I'm a coward, but I think I have a good reason to be.

Coming back is only temporary and I have to keep reminding myself that while I pack up the rest of my Gram's belongings. It shouldn't have taken me this long to come here and get everything settled. She passed away unexpectedly almost four months ago. After the funeral I went straight back to New York. Back to the life I made for myself and far away from one I've long forgotten.

That's a lie actually. I think about it every day.

My sister Scarlett has been keeping a watchful eye on me since we got here this morning. I don't know what she's so worried about. It's not like I'll actually see him. He's probably long gone by now. Someone like Oliver Monroe doesn't settle for small town life. It would never satisfy him. I'm not sure anything would.

With an armful of hangers, I carry another load of clothes down the old wooden stairs and lay them with the others on the dining room table. On impulse, I step towards the window and draw the blinds back again as another loud truck rides past the house. A snicker sounds beside me and I turn to see Scarlett covering her smile with her hand.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she says. Her smirk gets wider. "You just run to the window every time an obnoxiously loud truck drives by. Expecting someone?"

I let the drapes fall back with a huff. "No." I stalk past her and go back to sorting my Gram's clothes for Goodwill. But my sister was never one to let things go. She walks over and stands beside me, her arms crossed.

"Are you going to talk to him?"

I laugh. Not out of amusement, but out of the sheer absurdity of her question. "Absolutely not." My folding becomes angry, my fingers fumbling with the hem of a skirt. "I'll bet he's somewhere far away from here surrounded by everything that he loves." I shoot her a pointed look. "Himself."

"Okay," she says, holding her hands up. "I'm just asking."

I shake my head and turn back to the table, irritation coursing through me. "He didn't even come to the funeral."

"Maybe he was afraid."

"Don't defend him," I snap, turning over my shoulder again. Her eyes widen, but I keep going. "There's no excuse for being a shitty person. He has to grow up sometime."

She nods, tucking a strand of platinum hair behind her ear. "True," she says, her voice softer. "But he did mow her lawn for the past five years."

"He probably paid someone to do it."

She shakes her head. "No, he did it himself. She told me." I swallow the lump in my throat and turn to face her. "He did a lot of things for her."

My eyes start to burn. Not because I'm touched by his generosity. I'm not. Ollie never does anything that doesn't benefit him the most. He's inherently selfish to the core. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me to know that he did that. Why would he?

I sniff once and plaster a fake smile on my face. "Well, I don't care what he did. I'm over it."

Scarlett doesn't look convinced, but thankfully doesn't press further. She simply pats me on the shoulder and walks towards the kitchen without another word. I get lost in my thoughts for a moment, my mind drifting to a place I never like to go. That's when the bass from a stereo vibrates the windows again. This time I don't run to the window. I focus on the task I came here for and refuse to look back no matter how much I want to.