Chapter 2

"No one. Wrong number." I looked down, avoiding his eyes.

Marcus strode over, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and dragged me toward the phone.

"You think I'm stupid? Were you calling the cops?" he roared, slamming the bat down on the table.

"I wasn't!" Pain shot through me as I struggled against him.

Marcus sneered and hit redial. All he got was a busy signal. He hurled the phone to the floor and kicked me in the stomach.

"Behave yourself. Pull another stunt like that and I'll kill you."

I curled up on the floor, pain washing through me, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

Meanwhile, Queens, New York. 1982.

The eighteen-year-old me stood in the hallway of the Rose Motel. The air smelled of cheap perfume and mildewed carpet. My heart was pounding, my palms slick with sweat.

That strange phone call wouldn't leave me alone. The old woman's words — the one who claimed to be sixty-year-old me — kept circling in my head like a curse.

Room 204...

I walked up to the door and put a shaking hand on the knob. It wasn't locked all the way. There was a gap.

What I heard through that gap cut through me like a blade.

"Marcus, are you seriously taking that idiot Nora to Nashville?" It was Paige's voice, all sugary and coy.

"Of course. She's the honor student with the full ride to Stanford." Marcus's voice carried a coldness I'd never heard from him before. "Once we're in Nashville, she'll land a good job in no time. She can bring home the money, and I'll finally get to focus on my band."

"You're so bad." Paige giggled. "What if she finds out about us?"

"She won't. Her head's so full of love, she'll believe anything I tell her." Marcus sounded pleased with himself. "Once I've squeezed everything I can out of her, I'll dump her and send for you."

I stood outside the door, cold all over. Tears spilled down my face.

This was the man I'd given up everything for? The one I'd cut off my own parents to follow?

This was my best friend?

I shoved the door open. The two of them scrambled apart in a panic. Marcus was shirtless. Paige's clothes were half off.

"Nora? What are you doing here?" A flicker of panic crossed Marcus's face, but he quickly slipped back into his usual devoted expression. "Let me explain. This isn't what it looks like..."

He stepped toward me, reaching for my hand.

I stepped back, out of his reach.

"Don't touch me. You make me sick." I clenched my teeth, glaring at him.

Paige shrank into the corner of the bed, dragging the blanket around herself. "We were just rehearsing a play..." Her voice was all false sweetness.

"Shut up!" I screamed, then turned and ran out of the motel.

It was pouring outside. I ran straight into the rain, letting it soak me through.

By the time I made it back to the basement, I was drenched.

The phone on the table rang. I lunged for it like it was a lifeline.

"You saw it, didn't you?" That same hoarse, worn-out voice was back on the line.

"Why... why is this happening?" I broke down sobbing.

"Because he's a complete bastard." Sixty-year-old me was still on the floor in 2024, gritting her teeth through the pain. "He never loved you. All he's ever loved is what you could do for him."

"But I gave up Stanford for him..." I was crying so hard I could barely breathe.

"Then go get that acceptance letter back." Her voice went flat. "A woman's real security is never a man. It's herself."

"Get your education. Make your own money. Take control of your own life."

"But... how do I do that?" My voice came out small, uncertain.

"Right now, pack your things and get out of that basement." She took a deep breath.

"And then—"

Before she could finish, Marcus lunged across the room and tore the receiver out of her hand.

"Who are you talking to?!" he bellowed.