Page 19 of Coerced

Britney was one of the only reasons I’d struggled with my decision to put some distance between myself and my family. Where I could easily justify my choice to go when it came to walking away from family, it was difficult to do with my best friend. I missed her terribly.

“You’re going to come and visit Sasha and me here in Steel Ridge,” I declared. “I mean, when was the last time you treated yourself to a vacation anyway?”

She groaned. “You’re right. I work way too much. I thought I was going to convince you to make a trip back here, but now that you mention my lack of downtime, I’m thinking you might be onto something. I’ll look at the work schedule and see when I can make a visit happen.”

Instantly, I felt better. Of course, I understood this wasn’t something that would happen regularly, but it was nice to know Britney was willing to help both of us with this transition by making the drive out sometime in the coming weeks.

“Let me know as soon as you know when you’re going to make that happen, because I might need to schedule some time off from work,” I told her.

“Work? I didn’t know you found a job yet.”

“I didn’t. But I’m rectifying that starting today,” I shared. “My hope is that I’ll be able to find something within the next week or two.”

Even though I’d hated to learn about where my money had been coming from over the last several years, I had to admit, it gave me the opportunity to save more than I would have been able to if our situation at home had neverchanged the way it did. Even at the peak performance of my family’s store, we never had the kind of income that was being brought in while I was painting.

I shuddered at the thought of my painting. I still hadn’t come to terms with the betrayal, the lies. None of it had been real. Because even if the money coming in said differently, my perceived success was just that… perceived. I was no artist, and I hadn’t dared to pick up a paintbrush since I made the decision to end things several months ago. From where I was standing now, I was convinced I’d never sit in front of another blank canvas again.

“Any ideas on where you plan to apply?” Britney asked, bringing me back to the conversation.

“Not yet. There are a lot of little local businesses in town, though, so I think I’ll start looking at a couple of those. At least I can say I’ve got experience in a family business, right?”

“That’s true, but even if you didn’t, I still think you’d be a great addition to any business.”

I smiled, feeling such gratitude for this woman. I truly was blessed to have her in my life. “If I’m going to stand any chance at making it happen, though, I should probably get started on it now,” I reasoned.

“Okay. Keep me posted on how it goes. And give Sasha a couple of cuddles from me.”

“I can do that. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good.”

Britney and I said goodbye and disconnected our call.

I sat there for the next several minutes, contemplating how much things had changed for me over the last two months. It had been like a breath of fresh air. It made me realize that I wasn’t thriving while I was at home, evenbefore I knew the truth about what was happening with my paintings. Ever since I’d moved, even when I was simply searching for a place to put down roots, I felt invigorated and energized in a way I hadn’t anticipated. But now that I’d found a place and had rented a home, it was safe to say I hadn’t expected to feel this good.

That alone was strange for me to admit and accept.

Because I was at a place where I was starting my life over without my family around, without the people who had meant everything to me.

My mom and sister still didn’t know the real reason I left. They assumed I was being selfish, and they didn’t hesitate to tell me as much.

It hurt.

God, it hurt.

I wanted them to know the truth, to understand why I had to stop painting and leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. I would have rather let them believe the worst about me than to have my mom feel guilty about her cancer diagnosis leading my dad—her husband—to making such a horrible choice.

From the moment I learned the truth and didn’t do something about it, I hated myself. And every time I took a brush to a canvas, knowing exactly where my painting was going to wind up, that feeling of disgust with myself only grew stronger.

Where had my dignity gone?

Unable to continue living like I had been, I needed to leave.

And maybe my mom and sister thought the worst of me. That was fine. I wasn’t going to try to change it. In the end, I had to be able to live with myself. That meant Icouldn’t continue what I was doing, but I also couldn’t turn against my family.

After all that the four of us had been through together, after all that we’d fought against, I couldn’t bring myself to go against them completely by contacting the authorities. I didn’t know where that would put my dad. And if he wound up in prison for what he did, it would have certainly left my mom and Jasmine even worse off.

So, I took the blame, kept my mouth shut, and walked away.