Promises Promises

Chapter 1

Before the trial, I can't say I'd ever given much thought to the sound of a gavel, but as soon as that thing went down with a terminal crack, I knew it was something I'd never forget.

As hardwood met hardwood, my father's fate echoed with finality through the expansive courtroom and rang with the proclamation of another broken promise.

My mother cried and my brothers cursed. As for me, I ran outside to escape the noise. I wasn't shocked by the sentence, but I needed a quiet place to lick my wounds all the same.

From my spot on the stone bench outside the courthouse, the city loomed ahead of me, and nothing was actually quiet. It was all skyscrapers and the sound of busy traffic, people laughing as they walked by.

They marveled at the newly planted flowers along the sidewalk, as though the smell of summer blooms could hide the stench of corruption.

I hated it.

All of it. That vile city and all the towns that circled it like a crooked halo. I called one of those towns home, but it was no longer a place I was eager to claim.

Situated on the outskirts of Brighton, the idyllic Fairhaven was lined with adorable little shops and cozy houses that ran along the Kingston River. The smell of pine trees and fresh bread lingered in the air, and the cobblestone streets were such a vintage dream come true that no one even minded how slick they became in the winter.

It was a cute little town, picturesque even, and everyone knew everyone.

From the outside looking in, one might have seen a place that matched the likes of Mayberry. But those who knew better only saw the deception that hung over it like a fog, ruled by people who were ruled by greed. They inhaled money and exhaled lies to get more of it, stepping on anyone in their path.

My father became one of those people who did the stepping. He would spend the rest of his life behind bars for it.

A throat cleared beside me, followed by the warm presence of my twin brother, Dalton, as he took a seat on the bench at my side. His dark hair was combed out of his face for once, slicked back for the trial proceedings, and something about it didn't sit right.

He looked too much like Dad.

"Are you okay, Davina?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

My hands flew to my eyes and I wiped the tears away, sticking my chin up. "I'm fine."

It was a habit of mine, to act tougher than I really was. To pretend I could take things in stride and come out unscathed. I'd spent so long hating my father, I despised myself for crying at all that day, but...

There was a tiny girl inside me, and she was so naive.

Once upon a time, she thought her father was perfect and good. She would swing in the hammock he put up on her seventh birthday and think about all the good things to come.

Made of sky blue linen, with pretty tassels that hung from it like a dreamcatcher, that hammock was the perfect spot for my imagination to run wild, and I always made such plans. Big in the simplest of ways.

Mostly, I dreamt of staying in Fairhaven for the rest of my life. Close to family because what are we without family?

I'd be married to Spencer Lovejoy, my forever crush. We'd drink lemonade and eat sugar cookies on Sundays, and nothing bad would ever happen.

But bad things always happened.

By the time I turned ten, my father had become one of the bad guys, and it destroyed our home, stealing his time and integrity and all the respect I once had for him.