Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (19 page)

“What was his last name?” I asked. I don’t know why I needed to know, but I did.

“Wynn. Derek Wynn,” she answered immediately.

“Olivia
Wynn,” I whispered quietly. “Do his parents know about me?”

“No,” she shook her head. “After he died…I didn’t believe there was any point in t
elling them. They knew about me and they didn’t approve. Not that I blame them. I was married.”

“Are they still alive?”

“They are,” she glanced over at me.

I was still in a state of shock, but the questions kept pouring from me. “Do you have a picture of him? Of
Derek?”

“Yes,” she swallowed thickly.

“Can I…” I paused, “see it?” I asked as she pulled into the garage.

“Of course,” she looked at me like I was crazy for thinking she would say no.

I unbuckled my seatbelt mechanically.

“Liv,” my mom reached for my arm, grabbing it before I could get out.

“Yes?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“Do you hate me for what I did?”

I studied the broken woman before me and thought of all the years of torment she had endured from my father—Aaron. How could I hate her for trying to find happiness with someone else?

“No,
mom, I could never hate you. I…I feel very confused right now,” I answered honestly, shaking my head as I gazed at my lap.

“That’s understandable,” she released my arm.

I followed her inside and upstairs to the master bedroom.

She opened the bottom drawer to her dresser and dumped out the contents.

Once everything was cleared, she lifted out a false bottom. Beneath it was pictures, a whole stack of them.

She smiled sadly and began handing them to me.

I stared at the stranger in the picture who really
wasn’t
a stranger.

I
clearly saw the resemblance. It was indisputable. I had his lips and just like my mom had said, I even had his smile. His hair was wavy, bordering on curly, and I assumed that was where I got my natural waves.

She handed me more
, and I flipped through them, finding more of myself in him.

Finally, the last picture she handed me was one of her with
Derek. It was a close-up and you could see Derek’s arm as he held out the camera to take the picture. My mom was curled against his side. Neither of them was looking at the camera though. They were looking at each other, and the love on both of their faces was unmistakable. I had never seen that look on my mom’s face in all my twenty-years of life. I think a part of her must have died that day with Derek.

I flipped through the pictures
, again and again, memorizing his features, and imagining how different my life could have been if Derek Wynn hadn’t died.

But…if
Derek hadn’t died, and I hadn’t grown up with Aaron as a father, I would’ve never been desperate to get away.

I would’ve never met Trace.

Like I had told Trace that night in my dorm room, we can’t undo the past, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Tho
se bad things, led me to Trace.

Every decision, every moment, has the opportunity to change the course of our lives.

One moment can change everything.

For me, that moment was when I met Trace.

For my mom, it was when she met Derek.

We were similar in that regard.

“Can I keep one?” I held up the pictures, surprised to find that I was crying.

“They’re all for you,”
she whispered, draping an arm over my shoulder. I hadn’t realized she had sat down on the floor beside me. I had been too taken with discovering a piece of me that now only existed in these photographs. “I can’t bear to look at them. It hurts too much. They’re for you, Liv. They’ve always been for you.”

I bundled the photos into a neat stack
, and cradled them close to my heart, crying for a man that I would never know.

c h a p t e r

Fifteen

I woke up, and the first thing I did, was look through the photos again. Unfortunately, the photos didn’t reveal much about Derek. After all, they were only photos. They couldn’t tell me what his voice sounded like, or his favorite color, or his hobbies.

I did notice that a lot of them were taken outside and I wondered if
Derek—my dad—enjoyed being outside like I did.

I’d always rather be outside, soaking in the sun, than stuck indoors.

A banging on my door startled me.

I glanced at my bedroom clock.

It was nine o’ clock in the morning; I should’ve been up two hours ago, to avoid this wrath.

“Olivia Owens! Open this
door right now! You know you’re not allowed to close your bedroom door!” My dad’s-er, Aaron’s-voice bellowed throughout the house.

I hopped up from my bed like it was made of hot coals
, and bound across the room in two large steps, swinging the door open.

“You may sleep in late at that school of yours but that’s not allowed in my house!” He bellowed.

“I’m sorry,” I reached up, pushing my ratty hair from eyes.

“What’s this?” He hissed, his large meaty hand capturing my arm. He gripped it tightly and I cried out as he held it up for inspection. Cold eyes glared at me. “What is this on your arm?”

Oh, no.

I swallowed.

When I didn’t answer right away, his grip tightened.

“What is it Olivia?!” He shook me roughly, hard enough that my teeth clanked together.

“It’s a tattoo,” I cried.

His fingers dug painfully into my arm. His face reddened as his t
eeth clamped together. It felt as if he held me like that, for minutes, but the logical part of my mind knew that wasn’t true. My adrenaline had already clicked in.

He released me roughly and I fell, sliding across the hardwood floor
, where my head smacked into the wall. I reached up and fingered the tender part of my skull, half expecting there to be blood.

He glared down at me
, and I flinched, waiting for him to strike.

My breath
came out in ragged gasps, like I couldn’t get enough oxygen.

“You’re nothing but trouble,” he glared at me with eyes that were anything but human. He was a monster. “
Your mother should’ve had you taken care of.”

Surprising words from a man who preached about the sins of abortion.

He stood there, seething, his chest rising and falling as his hands flexed at his sides.

For some reason, he looked around my room
, and his eyes landed on the pictures on my bed.

“No,” he growled softly. “No!” He screamed, storming over to my bed, reaching for the pictures.

I knew that he was going to ruin the pictures, the only thing I had tying me to a man I had only learned about yesterday, and that spurned me into action.

Those pictures were the key to a life I knew nothing about and I wasn’t about to give it up.

With energy I didn’t know I possessed, I stood.

He picked one of the pictures up
, and crumpled it into his hand, yelling unintelligibly.

I jumped on his back, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck
, as he reached for another picture.

“Those are mine!” I screamed. I wouldn’t let him ruin them.

“She was never supposed to tell you!” He roared, rearing back in an effort to dislodge me. I may have been small but adrenaline was on my side. I wouldn’t be easily thwarted.

My arms tightened around his neck, I wasn’t really trying to choke him, I
only wanted him to stop destroying the photos. They were the only things I possessed that made Derek real.

“Stop it!” I shrieked when he reached for another. “Those are mine!”

“I raised you! You’re my daughter!” He yelled, his spit landing on my arm.

“I was never your daughter!” I screamed shrilly. “Never!”

He started to rip the photo and time slowed down further.

I found myself letting go of his neck with
one arm, and clinging tightly to his waist with my legs, as I reached for the heavy light on my bedside table.

I yanked the cord from the outlet and hurled the lamp at his head.

He grunted, and fell slack, falling to the side.

I fell with him, my knee harshly colliding with the
hardwood floor. He landed on my leg, passed out, and I pushed at him.

Blood poured from
the gash on his head. It wasn’t fatal, but he’d need stitches, and he’d definitely be out of it for a while.

“Oh my God.”

The words didn’t come from me. I turned to find my mom standing in the doorway of my bedroom. She clutched her chest as she looked from Aaron to me.

“Oh my God,” she repeated, rushing to
my side, and falling to her knees. “Liv, oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I heard the yelling and then the thump. Oh my God. Is he?”

“No,” I shook my head. “He’s not.”

I rose unsteadily to my feet. I had to leave before he woke up. If he woke up and I was still here…the consequences would be disastrous.

I didn’t know where I’d go and that didn’t matter. I had to get away.

“I need to leave,” I whispered, scurrying around my room, gathering up my things. I hadn’t removed much from my suitcase so it didn’t take long. “He was going to ruin the pictures, mom. I snapped. I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him destroy them,” I rambled.

He had already destroyed a part of me
, a long time ago, there was no way I was letting him destroy my only connection with my real father.

“I have to go, mom. I can’t stay here,” I rambled, gathering the photos from my bed
, and the ones that had fallen on the floor.

I looked down
at Aaron, the man whom I had believed was my father. I had never loved him, only feared him. But shouldn’t I have felt some kind of remorse for hurting him? Instead, I felt relieved.

“I have to go, mom,” I rep
eated, because she kept standing there with shocked, wide eyes as she looked at Aaron passed out on the floor.

Slowly, she looked up at me.

“And you need to go too,” I pleaded. “He’s going to be livid when he wakes up.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” she shook her head, “I can’t.”

I grasped her hands in mine. “Please, mom. For me. You have to. He’ll kill you.” I looked down at the broken lamp and the gash on his head. “He’ll blame
you
for this,” my voice cracked. “You have to leave.”

“There’s nowh
ere for me to go, Liv! Nowhere!” She was flustered, fanning her face, and fighting hysterics.

“Find a place,” I begged
, taking her hands in mine to soothe her. “I can’t lose you too. Come to Virginia. I’ll get a job and so will you. We can find a place and live together. If you stay here, you’ll die.”

I knew in my heart, that if Aaron woke up
, and she was still here, he’d kill her…just like I knew he’d kill me.

His anger had been growing progressively worse over the years. I had blocked a lot of what he had said and done,
in order to cope, but if I really started digging through my memories, I knew I would find that Thanksgiving wasn’t the first time he’d grabbed me like that.

Acting on instinct, I grabbed her long sleeve shirt, and yanked it up. “Look at this!” I pleaded, looking at the purple, yellow, and green bruises, on her arm in the shape on his fingers. “If you think this is bad, what happens when he wakes up will be worse! Don’t let him control you anymore!” I
begged. “Where’s that woman I saw yesterday? Huh? The woman that was going to leave her husband for Derek? Where is she, mom? Find her! Find her, and hold onto her! If you were going to leave dad for Derek, you can leave him for
me
.”

Her whole body shook from crying
, and she kept looking from me to Aaron, and back again.

“You can do it
, mom. Find that woman Derek fell in love with.
Please
,” I sobbed.

She nodded. “Okay, okay. I know where he keeps some money hidden. I-”

“Just hurry, mom,” I begged. “Get rid of your cellphone and anything he can use to track you. Leave your car. I’ll drive. Grab necessities only. Got it?”

She nodded mechanically and dashed down the hall to the master bedroom.

I eyed the small pool of blood that had gathered on the floor from Aaron’s wound. It wasn’t a dangerous amount of blood, I knew that, but the sight of it still upset my stomach.

While my mom was gathering her things, I changed from my pajamas into clothes, and brushed my hair, quickly braiding it.

I stepped over Aaron’s slumped form and tore my dresser apart. I had hidden money in each drawer from all the summer’s I had worked at the local ice cream shop. I knew I would never be coming back to this house.

This house wasn’t my home, it was a prison, and I wanted none of these things
, because they would only keep a part of me chained here.

I was glad that I had bought most of my things. I’d even saved and bought my car and I had managed to get into college with a full scholarship.

Once I stepped out the front door of this house, nothing would tie me to this place.

I would be free to float.

Free to wander.

Free to find myself.