Authors: Cassia Leo
Chasing Abby
Contents
For all the shattered hearts.
Note to Reader
M
USIC
is an important part of this series. Some chapters in this book begin with a musical note. The musical note indicates there is a song on the
Chasing Abby
playlist that pertains to or is mentioned in that chapter. The musical note links to a YouTube video of a song that pertains to or is mentioned in that chapter. Most of these links are mobile-friendly and work on internet-ready devices such as smart phones, tablets, and computers. These links will not work on all e-readers. If you are reading
Chasing Abby
on an incompatible e-reader, feel free to open the playlist on a compatible device and listen as you read.
The playlist is available on YouTube at:
http://bit.ly/chasingabbyplaylist
The playlist is available on Spotify at:
http://bit.ly/chasingabbyplaylists
PROLOGUE
Four months after
M
Y
HAND
IS
SHAKING
as I jam the key into the ignition. The smell of leather is making me even more nervous. I’ve never driven a car this expensive. Actually, I’ve hardly driven any car of any value. I’m not sure I can safely drive Jimi’s Mercedes. If I crash today, I guess I can thank my fabulous parents and their need to protect my fragile heart.
I turn the key and the engine hums. I shift into reverse and punch the gas pedal, then I nearly pass out when the car jumps backward into the driveway, almost crashing into the block wall separating the beach house from the neighbor’s house. My mom comes bounding out of the front door. I quickly switch gears and peel out of the driveway onto Sandpiper Street, then I head toward Lumina Avenue.
I don’t know if anyone will follow me. I hope they don’t. I just need to get away.
For eighteen years, I was the sickly, fragile daughter of Brian and Lynette Jensen. Now… I don’t know who I am. When I’m with my biological parents, I don’t feel like the frail girl I was eight weeks ago. I’m different. I’m the girl who got away. The girl who was strong enough to capture my parents’ hearts in a single twenty-minute meeting and hold them captive for eighteen years.
That’s the girl I want to be. I don’t want to be fragile anymore.
I turn left on Lumina and the Mercedes grips the slick asphalt beautifully. Racing forward, I turn right onto Highway 74 and draw in a deep breath. I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I can’t be there right now. I need to think without my mom’s pitiful gaze penetrating me. Or the look of disappointment and hope in Chris and Claire’s eyes.
I touch the power button on the touchscreen and Jimi’s favorite playlist begins to play. I listen to the beachy, acoustic melodies and think of the past few weeks. Flashes of my parents’ hopeful faces flicker in my mind. Caleb’s face materializes, and memories of that day on the beach come rushing back to me. My body relaxes and my hands stop trembling as a smile curls my lips. Caleb is my constant.
Even when I’m being pulled this way and that way, it’s Caleb’s face, his sturdy hands, his breath so soft on my skin, his love so fragile in my hands… Caleb is the rope that keeps me tethered to reality. As long as I have Caleb, I’ll get through this.
A buzzing noise pulls me out of my thoughts and I glance at the cup holder between the seats. My phone is flashing. I pick it up and glance at the screen. It’s Caleb.
I heave a deep sigh and answer. “Hello?”
When I turn my attention back to the road, something is wrong. The lane has moved. Or… Oh, no. It’s not the lane. It’s my car that’s veered into oncoming traffic. The last thing I hear is Caleb screaming my name before I drop the phone.
CHAPTER ONE
Two months after
T
HE
HAIRS
ON
MY
ARMS
stand on end the moment I step inside Fidelity Bank in Raleigh. As if I can feel every time my parents walked through here over the past eighteen years. See the ghost of their footprints trailed across the speckled tile.
Caleb squeezes my hand as we head for the line of patrons queued up in front of the teller windows. I want to smile at him to show him that everything is okay, but I’m too nervous. My heart is pounding like a snare drum inside my chest. My fingers begin to tingle and I know I should stop and take a few deep breaths, but I can’t stop moving toward that line. I wriggle my fingers a little and Caleb tightens his grip, stopping in the middle of the floor as he recognizes the signs.
I look up into his green eyes and his eyebrows shoot up as he draws in a deep breath. I copy him, sucking in a large breath through my nostrils then letting it out slowly through my mouth. He does it a few more times and I follow along until the tingling in my fingers is gone. Then I blink my eyes to stanch the tears. It’s not fair to Caleb that he has a broken girlfriend. He deserves a girl with a healthy heart who can keep up with his lust for life.
“Better?” he asks, his voice soothing and hopeful.
I nod and he kisses my forehead. “Thank you.”
What is it like having a defective heart? Sort of like having a defective TV that only displays a few channels. You’re forced to listen to your friends talking about all the cool shows they’ve been watching. Shows you’ll never be able to watch. And you try to pretend you’re perfectly happy with your defective TV, but everyone knows you’re just trying to be a good sport.
Sports. That’s one thing you can’t watch on a defective TV. I learned that when I was thirteen. That also happens to be the age I learned about the safe-deposit box that brought me to Fidelity Bank today.
“I can help the next person in line.”
I look up and the woman behind the bulletproof glass is giving me that impatient, eyebrows-raised look. I step forward with Caleb and slip my driver’s license into the curved slot on the counter.
“I’m here to… to look at my safe-deposit box.” Look at? She must think I’m crazy.
She takes my driver’s license and swipes it through a machine. She types in a few commands, then she looks back and forth between the picture on my ID and my face.
“Do you have your key?”
“Yes,” I reply quickly as I begin digging in the front pocket of my jeans for the small silver key my father gave me two months ago.
I slide it into the slot and she smiles. “You can hold onto it.” She slides my ID back to me and I take both the card and the key back. “Just give me a moment. I have to go get my supervisor to help you.”
She disappears behind a curved wall and comes back with a man in a suit who’s sifting through a gaggle of keys on a chain as he walks. They arrive at the teller window and the man smiles at me.
He nods to his right. “This way, ma’am.”
Ma’am?
I’ve never been called
that
before. I guess this is what it feels like to be an adult.
We reach an unmarked door that buzzes softly before it’s pulled inward. The man with the keys smiles as he waves us inside. He closes the door behind us, then he leads us to an enormous circular vault door. He slips a key into a lock, then he places his thumb on a print reader. A soft beep sounds and he enters a code on a touchpad. A heavy click sounds inside the door and he turns the wheel to open the door and pull it out.