Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

Where is this damn elevator?

I start to turn away but stop when my eye catches something and I do a double take, taking a step forward, my nostrils flaring.

I watch as a woman dressed in a brightly colored skirt almost runs past the floor to ceiling windows, swerving in and out of all the people in suits that line the sidewalk. She stands out like a sore thumb but it’s not that that gains my attention. It’s the dive my stomach takes as I watch her flit past. Her hair is piled up high on the top of her head and her arms are flailing about as if she’s talking to herself. It’s the way she walks, the way her arm moves about, almost animated that makes me wonder… No, it can’t be; I must be seeing things.

I shake my head and turn back to face the elevators but something in my gut tells me that I’m right, and by the time my body catches up with my brain and I look out the windows into the sea of dark colors swarming past again, I’m too late... she’s gone.

The pinging of the elevator doors catches my attention and I step inside, looking back out at the windows; that strange feeling still swirling around in my stomach.

I punch the button for my floor, my mind not on anything but the past. I try my hardest to forget but I can’t stop the images from flying through my mind like a movie reel.

I barely hear what Catiya is saying and I’m still not concentrating fully when I step into the board meeting ten minutes later.

My mind whirls with questions.

Could it really be her? Why the hell is she back?

Standing at the head of the table, I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. It doesn’t matter if she’s back. What we used to have was over a long time ago; I don’t want her back here dragging up the past. I have two children and a business to concentrate on, and even forgetting about that, I know she will never forgive me. What I did to her was unforgivable.

I still don’t forgive me.

Clay, Amelia, and I shuffle along with the rest of the people that are waiting to pass their tickets to the lone person that is standing at the large, wooden double doors of the theater. As we move forward, we hear someone whistle.

My head snaps around to where the sound came from, searching for who the culprit is, although I should have known that only Nate—my best friend from col

lege and the kids’ uncle—would have whistled like that.

“Wait up!” he shouts, waving his arms in the air frantically as he pushes through the crowd of people, earning him some dirty looks and a few choice words about pushing in front of them.

“Nate,” I say, shaking my head when he comes to a stop in front of us. He always has to demand all of the attention anywhere he goes. “Do you have to be so… so...”

He raises a brow. “So, what? Good-looking?” He swipes his hands down his chest, raising his brows up and down in their own dance.

Amelia snorts and turns around as we make it to the door, holding her hand out to me for the tickets.

I stare at Nate for a beat longer, my eyes narrowing on him before I pass Amelia the tickets and she hands them to the woman who punches a hole in them, nodding at us to go ahead.

As we make our way inside, Nate is still listing off things about himself, none of us taking notice of him as we walk up the stairs, finding a seat halfway up and in the middle, right in front of the stage.

“Where’s your mom?” he asks, searching for her as if she’ll turn up at any second.

I run my hand down my face, already irritated with him being here. “She’s away in Japan, sourcing new material,” I answer, but what I really want to say is that I wouldn’t have wanted her here anyway.

He nods his head and then shouts, “I can’t wait to see this!” Causing more heads to turn toward us.

“Will you stop?” I grind out, leaning over Clay as I stare at Nate with murder in my eyes. I’m on the edge, balancing on a thin beam, ready to fall off at any second.

His eyes widen and he holds his hands up in the air in surrender.

Leaning back, I shake my head and let out a breath. Why it couldn’t be only Clay and me here, I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing more and more control over everything lately, and I don’t like it one bit.

Nate suddenly claps his hands together and I turn my head slowly to face him, watching as he opens the backpack he brought with him, pulling drinks and candy out.

“What the…”

“What?” He snaps his gaze to mine. “I’m not paying the prices they charge at these things.” He scoffs like it’s a ridiculous notion.

“I… I can’t even…”