Echoes Beneath (The Truth Series Book 2) Read online

  “I’m not leaving until your plane takes off, so don’t even suggest it.”

  “Alright, fair enough. I’d watch your flight leave too.”

  “You’re gonna do great,” Emma said.

  “Yeah, I hope a change of environment will help,” I said as I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

  “I bet it won’t be long before you meet some amazing guy in Oregon who’ll sweep you off your feet.” Hope filled her face as the words left her mouth.

  “Well, you’ll be the first to hear about it if I do. I don’t know if I’m ready, though.”

  “I know, but you’ll have different classes and be surrounded by new people. I’m sure that’ll help.”

  I glanced out the window as the boarding call for my flight sounded through the airport speakers.

  “Okay, call me when you get settled,” Emma said.

  “I will,” I whispered as I hugged her.

  “It’s not goodbye, it’s an ‘I’ll see ya later,’” she said, assuring me.

  “I like that better,” I replied as I pulled away and picked up my bag.

  I took a few steps and then turned back around to see Emma wiping tears from her cheeks. My breath caught as I took one last look at her, at the airport, and at Arkansas. I was about to leave everything that was familiar and start over without knowing a single soul. Fear gripped me at the thought.

  I waved to her. “See ya later, Emma,” I said. Then I walked away before I couldn’t.

  I stepped onto the plane and located my seat. I flipped open the overhead compartment and tossed my backpack in. I’d been assigned the window seat, so I settled in before anyone else filed into my row. I stared out the window and waved to Emma, but she couldn’t see me. She already seemed far away, and we hadn’t even left the ground.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk to anyone on the plane, and I hoped I wouldn’t be seated next to Chatty Cathy or her brother. I just wanted to have a smooth flight and get ready to start my new life.

  I folded my hands in my lap and closed my eyes as someone sat next to me. I figured if I established boundaries before takeoff, no one would bother me.

  The flight attendant’s voice floated over the PA system as the engines roared to life. I turned toward the window and watched as we began to move. Emma was in the same place she’d been ten minutes ago. She’d struggled with my decision to leave, but she had put up a strong front and never discouraged me from moving. She was a true friend. I mentally blew a kiss to her as the window went out of sight and we accelerated down the runway.

  The plane gathered momentum, and I let out a small gasp as I was pushed back into my seat. I dared to peek out the window again once we’d gained altitude. Little Rock drifted farther away as everything—and everyone—became little specks.

  “Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Walker,” I whispered.

  I still hadn’t acknowledged the person sitting next to me. So far, my boundaries were working. I pulled out my Walkman and placed the headphones over my ears, drifting off to sleep as I listened to Prince’s “I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man.”

  * * *

  My eyes shot open as the plane lurched forward.

  “Oh God, we’re gonna crash,” I muttered under my breath.

  I clutched the arms of my seat and squeezed my eyes shut. Then I remembered that the flight attendant had told us to grab the little mask thingy in case of an emergency. But where was it? Why hadn’t I paid attention?

  I forced my eyes open and peered around. I bit my lip. No one else had oxygen masks on. I willed my heart to slow down as I realized that I’d just freaked out in front of everyone.

  “First time flying?” the guy next to me asked.

  “No, I’m a frequent flyer,” I replied with more sarcasm than I meant.

  He leaned his head back against his seat and smiled.

  “It’s only turbulence. It makes the plane bounce around and it can be scary sometimes, but that wasn’t too bad,” he said. He ran his hand through his blond hair. It was about an inch shy of his shoulders; longer than most guys wore theirs back home.

  “You must not be from here,” he added. His brown eyes danced with mischievousness.

  “Where’s here, since we’re on a plane and not exactly anywhere?”

  “I meant Oregon. We’re only thirty minutes away from Portland.”

  “No, I’m not from Oregon.”

  He smiled again, and my heart stuttered. Maybe moving on from Walker would be easier than I’d realized.

  “My name’s Xander,” he said, gesturing to himself.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “And you are?”

  “Lacey,” I said and extended my hand.

  He chuckled as he shook it.

  “And what do you find so funny? I seem to have an uncanny ability to entertain you,” I said as a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

  “It’s your accent.”

  My eyebrow rose as I waited for him to continue.

  “You’re clearly from the South. I’d heard Southern women were beautiful, and I guess they weren’t kidding.”

  I swore mentally as a familiar flush crept up my neck and cheeks. I turned away and stared out the window.

  “What brings you to Oregon?”

  “College. I’m beginning my sophomore year at the University of Oregon.”

  “What a coincidence. I’m headed there myself. It’s my senior year.”

  “Really? What’s your major?” I asked. My curiosity was piqued.

  “Criminal justice,” he responded with a smirk.

  “I’ve always found criminal justice and psychology fascinating.”

  “Yeah? The U of O has a great program—that’s one of the reasons I chose it. And for the parties, of course.” His smile softened.

  “I don’t care about those. I’m here to get an education, not a table-dancing degree,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “Oh God,” I muttered, grabbing the armrests again as the plane bounced.

  “It’s just turbulence,” he said as he placed his hand on my arm.

  I pulled it away, horrified that he’d touched me. I didn’t know him from Adam.

  “Sorry. Look, there’s Mount Hood.” He pointed out the window.

  I gasped as the mountain came into view. The snow-covered peak stood out boldly against the bright-blue sky.

  “Holy shit,” I mumbled.

  “You like that word, don’t you?”

  “What?” I asked, not taking my eyes away from the window.

  “Shit.”

  “Not as much as I like holy shit,” I said, no longer paying attention to him as we flew over the mountain. “My God, this is beautiful,” I whispered.

  I wanted to suspend time and stay in this moment forever as we flew over the mountain and I saw the magnificent beauty of Oregon. I felt so tiny compared to everything down there, and for a moment, all the pain slipped away. Everything I’d lost—Mama, Walker, and the friends I’d left behind—seemed minimal compared to the scene below me.

  I took it all in: the snow-capped mountain, the sunlight bouncing off the peak, the green trees dotting the ground. I had no idea that colors other than brown even existed in the summer. I suddenly felt two thousand miles away from Emma and everything familiar.

  I leaned back and continued to watch as Portland came into focus. Within minutes, we landed, and everyone started to stand up. Xander slipped out and allowed me to step out in front of him. I exited onto the Jetway and into the airport.

  “Welcome to your new home,” Xander said. “Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, giving him a small wave goodbye.

  I stood still for a moment and watched everyone around me. Xander had caught up with a group of guys, and they all headed toward the baggage claim. I slipped my backpack on and decided that I should follow. I had to get my luggage too
, so it seemed like the most logical step.

  It was another forty minutes before I had my bags and rental car. I still had a two-hour drive to Eugene. I loaded up the car and pulled onto the interstate. I fiddled with the radio until I found a good station, turned on the air conditioner, and got comfortable. I would reach Eugene by six. It felt weird being two hours behind Arkansas, but I was grateful I would reach the university before nightfall.

  Chapter 3

  I’m not sure if I was blessed or cursed, but for whatever reason, my roommate never made it and I had the dorm room to myself. Part of me was relieved in case I had more nightmares, but I’d also hoped to make a new friend.

  I took advantage of the unexpected space and used the four days before classes started to decorate. I transformed the dull, white room to my taste: black and pink. I’d managed to not rip my eight-foot Bon Jovi poster during the move, and he now hung on the back of my dorm-room door. My telephone service had been turned on, and I had a nice new phone and answering machine. I checked it often, even though no one had called me yet.

  * * *

  School started after Labor Day in Oregon, which I found odd. Not only was I in a new city and state, but I was quickly finding out that things were done very differently here.

  I wrapped my towel around myself and padded down the hallway in my slippers to the showers. The bathroom was crowded with girls walking around naked. I left my towel on until I was in a shower stall with the curtain closed. My Southern shyness about my body would remain intact. I promised myself that I would not be one of those girls who walked around naked and flaunted their assets.

  One of my first lessons for the new school year was to shower fast, or you’ll be left standing under cold water. I rinsed all the soap off, grabbed my towel, and hurried back to my room. Thirty minutes later, I was dressed in my favorite jeans and soft, green T-shirt, my makeup was applied, my backpack was slung over my shoulder, and I was ready to go. I took a deep breath as I pulled my dorm-room door closed behind me.

  I stepped outside into the cool morning air and pulled my jacket around me. I’d been cold since I got here; the days were at least fifteen degrees cooler than they were in Arkansas. All the other students wore shorts and T-shirts, but I stuck with jeans.

  I took my time and strolled across campus, absorbing all the colors. The thick green grass crunched under my shoes as I noticed the abundance of maple, birch, and pine trees. Large planters brimming with every color pansy possible hung from the lampposts, creating bright splashes of color against the green.

  I located my building and stopped in my tracks. This single red-brick structure was bigger than half the campus combined back home. I ascended the stairs and fell in step with the other students as we filed through the front doors. I searched the hallways and located my classroom.

  “Holeeee shit,” I muttered as I entered my history class. The auditorium comfortably held at least a hundred students. I mentally kicked myself for not arriving sooner, but how could I have known that the class would be so big?

  I stood at the top of the stairs and scanned the room for available seats. I didn’t want to sit up front or in the back. I was normally most comfortable in the middle.

  I located an open seat and made my way down the stairs.

  “Is that seat taken?” I asked and pointed six seats into the row. Six people groaned at me and stood up. I apologized as I scooted past them, trying not to step on their toes as I made my way to the seat I thought would be perfect.

  I settled in as the professor entered the room.

  “Welcome to Oregon History! I’m Professor Scott, and I’m here to make your life hell.” He laughed. “I’m kidding, but don’t think you can sleep in my class and pass. Show some respect and interest and I might give you a C,” he said, smiling from ear to ear.

  The class groaned as he turned his back to us and began writing on the board. I glanced around at the other students and realized I might blend in after all.

  “My teaching assistant is giving the person at the end of each row a stack of papers,” he continued. “Please take one and pass it down. This is the class syllabus. I don’t care if you work ahead or behind, but by the end of the term, I want all your work turned in. Don’t be late. I hate late. And if you think you’re smarter than everyone else, you can write a thirty-page paper on the history of Oregon. If your paper passes with a C or better, you can skip the final. If you don’t get at least a C on it, you’ll still have to take the final. It’s up to you. I couldn’t care less if you actually come to this class or not, but you do have to pass this class to graduate.”

  He wiped his hand on his jeans, leaving a trail of chalk across his backside.

  I muffled my giggle as he turned toward the class and put the chalk down.

  “Wow, thirty pages,” I whispered to the guy sitting next to me.

  “Mhmm, he’s a ballbuster,” he said under his breath. “I don’t care what he said—I’ve heard he loves to fail the papers so you have to take the final anyway. No thanks. I’ll show up and take the test. Besides, he is so not hard to look at.”

  He handed me the stack of papers that was making its way across the row. I took one, passed the stack down, and began scanning the class syllabus.

  “Is this your first year at the U of O?” I asked quietly as I peered at him. His jet-black hair was slicked forward with his bangs flipped up in the front, accentuating his flawless complexion.

  He turned toward me and stared. His dark-brown eyes scanned my face as his eyebrows rose.

  “No, I’m a sophomore this year. But you’re definitely new here,” he said, laughing softly.

  “How do you know I’m not from Oregon?”

  “Seriously? You did not just ask me that question, girl. You do realize your accent is as Southern as it gets, right?”

  “It is?” I asked, frowning.

  “Definitely,” he replied.

  “I’m Lacey,” I said and extended my hand.

  “George,” he said. “And the first thing you need to learn is that no one shakes hands here, so put that away.” He nodded at my extended hand.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said as I put my hand in my lap. I dipped my head and focused on my shoes as the dreaded flush crept up my neck and cheeks.

  Professor Scott began lecturing, and I grabbed my notebook and pen and took notes. History was by no means my best subject; hopefully I would find a few study partners who actually liked it.

  Class wrapped up, and I stuffed my textbook and notebook into my backpack.

  “So, Hillbilly, where exactly did you come from?”

  I glanced up at George. He was already standing, waiting for me to get up and file out of the row.

  “That’s rude. Do you talk to everyone like that?”

  “Yup,” he said and motioned for me to hurry up.

  I stood up, and a smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. At five foot six, I cleared George by a good inch.

  “Yeah, I’m short, Hillbilly, so smile away, but move your ass. I’ve got another class across campus,” he said as a grin flashed across his face.

  I hurried down the aisle and joined George as we walked up the stairs.

  “Do you just say anything that comes to mind?” I asked. I hated to admit it, but I was a little intrigued by how bold he was. People weren’t this outspoken back in Arkansas.

  “Sometimes. But you’ll find that most people are like that around here.”

  “Are you from here? Eugene, I mean?” I asked as we pushed open the door and walked outside. The fresh air tickled my nose.

  “Born and raised. And you never answered my question. Where in the South are you from?”

  “Arkansas.”

  “Oh, wow,” he said as he looked me over.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Hey, I need help,” I said as I pulled out my class schedule. “I need to find this room.” I pointed at my next class on the list.

  �
��Well, aren’t you lucky. That’s my next class too. Follow me, but you gotta keep up,” he said and sped up. “You’re gonna get your exercise here, Hillbilly. Our next class is on the other side of campus.”

  “Oh!” I said as I tried to keep up, barely managing to hang a few steps behind. “What’s your major?”

  “Interior design. What’s yours?”

  “Communications.”

  “You’re gonna have to ditch your accent if you want to work in that field,” he said, laughing.

  “Okay, you’re hired.”

  George stopped in his tracks and I bumped into him, almost knocking us both over.

  “Hired? What do I look like?” he asked as he put his hand on his hip and glared at me.

  “Well, if you’re gonna call me Hillbilly and make fun of my accent, the least you can do is help me get rid of it. So, you’re hired as my tutor,” I said, waiting for him to agree with my logic.

  “I’m not sure anyone can help you,” he said as he began walking again. “But you’re fun to listen to, so I’ll check my schedule.”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or roll my eyes as I jogged after him.

  George was right, our sociology class was clear across campus. I would have to hustle from history on these days or I’d be late. I tended to get distracted on campus, gawking at the architecture and how green everything was.

  We grabbed seats near the middle of the room and George introduced me to two other students he knew, Adalyn and Cassidy. They welcomed me to Oregon and asked about Arkansas, but unlike George, they didn’t make fun of my accent. They were also in the same dorm as me, so we decided to meet up later that evening. We chatted until the professor walked in and class started. Even though I’d already met a few people, my heart ached for Emma and Joss.

  George pulled me aside after class and opened his planner. “I have time around nine tonight. I can come to your dorm then,” he said.

  I checked my schedule and realized that all my classes were in the first half of the day, which left the afternoons free for studying. It also meant that my evenings would be wide open.

  “Perfect,” I said and gave him my room number.