Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I moved my arm to my lap and righted myself in my seat. A myriad of conflicting emotions swirled inside me.
“Ramsey,” she breathed.
I had no words. It was already happening. One conversation and the carefully crafted walls I’d painstakingly built brick by fucking brick were starting to shake. It was what I’d feared would happen if I let her in even an inch.
“Please don’t shut down on me again.” She covered my hand with hers. “Come back. Please.”
I couldn’t go back. I’d ruined her life once. I’d never forgive myself if I did it again.
Nora was right. Thea was never going to stop until I was happy. After the hell I’d put her through, I had no idea why she cared at all anymore. Misplaced guilt or a sense of responsibility, I couldn’t be sure. But whatever the reason, it had to end.
I’d fooled her when we were kids. Wearing my smile as a mask when in reality my world had been crumbling around me. It had been a long time since that smile had been a part of my arsenal.
It was time to bring it back.
Giving her hand a squeeze that was as much of a goodbye as it was a hello, I split my lips into a smile so painful that it felt as though it had been created with the blade of a knife. “Let’s try the friends thing.”
Her head swung my way and her whole face lit like the New York City power grid. “Really?”
“Sure. Why not? It can’t hurt, right?”
It was a lie. It was going to fucking slay me.
But there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to set my Sparrow free.
“Thea?” Ramsey called as he padded barefoot down the hall.
The grin I’d been wearing all day stretched across my face. “In the kitchen.”
It was well past seven, and Nora was out having drinks with a few of her fellow teachers. She didn’t go out often, and it was awful convenient that the day I’d texted her the good news about Ramsey and me giving the friends thing a shot, she’d suddenly had plans and wouldn’t be home until “late.” She’d followed it up with a GIF of Daisy Duck covering Donald’s face with lipstick kisses, so I thought her hopes for my first evening alone with Ramsey were slightly more aspiring than mine.
Ramsey and I had been busy at work that day, so our paths had only crossed a few times since our conversation that morning and our interactions had been limited. My dad and Misty had eaten with us when I’d walked over to have lunch, and when Ramsey had popped over to return a package that had been mistakenly delivered to the barbershop, I’d been on the phone with a client. That afternoon, he’d spent the ride home on the phone with his parole officer discussing the paperwork he needed from the prison so he could schedule the exam for his barber’s license. He had years more than the fifteen hundred hours of experience required, but until the prison signed off on his hours worked and he passed the exam, he was stuck cleaning and observing at my dad’s shop.
As per usual, when we’d gotten home, Ramsey had gone straight to his room, shut the door, and turned on the shower. I swear he was the cleanest man I had ever met. My water bill was going to be a bazillion dollars, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Question,” he said, settling on one of the barstools that overlooked our kitchen.
I nervously toyed with the tie on my Yeti for Bed pajama pants before turning to face him. “Answer.”
He ran his finger down the yellow page of the open book and asked, “What do you know about Peach Ink?”
My chin jerked to the side. “What is that?”
“It’s a tattoo shop.”
“No, I mean, what is that you’re looking at?”
“A phone book?” He frowned adorably—and a lot hot too.
Dammit! Just friends, Thea. Just. Friends.
“Right,” I said. “But where did you find it? I didn’t know they made those anymore. You do know you can look up all that stuff on your phone, right?”
“Yeah, I’m not using that thing again. It’s possessed by that deaf Siri woman.” He looked back down at the phone book, shaking his head and mimicking, “I’m sorry, Ram-zay, I didn’t catch that.”
I barked a laugh. “You can turn her off, ya know?”
“I don’t even know how I turned her on. You think I can figure out how to turn her off?”
I walked around the bar, my hand outstretched. “Here, give it to me. I’ll show you.”
He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and slapped it in my hand. “So anyway, Peach Ink. What do you know about it? Are they any good? From one to ten, what are the chances I’ll catch hepatitis?”