Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I hit a sore spot. Despite that his face gives nothing away, I know I have. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to know his thoughts and I’m surprised to see that hasn’t changed.
“I want it back.” He watches me for a while, expression stern. The sands of time pass. I’m growing white hair when he finally pulls a set of keys from the front pocket of his jeans. Unclipping one from a silver keychain, he places it on the countertop.
“And I’d like to go to the lake day after tomorrow.” I know I’m pressing my luck but at this point I have nothing to lose.
He’s shaking his head before I can even finish. A piece of hair falls over his eye and he rakes it back. “I can’t. One of my managers quit and I’m too busy at the club…been neglecting it the last few months. Maybe next week.”
Right. I don’t intend on staying another three days let alone another week.
“I’m not staying another week. I’ve gotta get back to my life.”
“Suit yourself, but I can’t go to the lake this week. And you know it’s a two-day trip, which means camping.”
Nuts. I forgot about that.
He advances on me in a lazy stride, the charge between us building with each step he takes. Molecules about to collide. Nuclear fusion imminent.
I take a not-so-casual step back. My ass meets the wall. While my heart thunders inside my chest, my mouth goes bone dry. Regardless, I do my best imitation of a woman that has her shit together. Not one that can’t make up her mind whether she wants to throw her arms around him and hug him tightly, or stab him in the eye with a screwdriver. Phillips head in case you were wondering.
His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Who’s Phillip?”
“Who?”
“You said something about Phillip.”
“Oh, nobody.”
His gaze flickers to my mouth for a brief moment and I nearly go into cardiac arrest. I watch as he reaches out and gently takes my right arm, curls his big, warm, hands around the skin above my fiberglass cast. It’s too much, too fast, and it feels too damn good. The minute he touches me I start to panic.
“What are you doing?” I try to take my arm back and fail.
Lips quivering, he turns my hand to face up. The rough pads of his thumbs press and knead my clammy palm. He grabs the sunglasses hanging on the collar of his t-shirt, takes a hold of the stem, and wedges it under my cast.
A sigh of relief hisses out of me. Our eyes meet and for a split second I forget that I hate him. I forget that he hurt me. I forget that he ruined everything. Instead I fall into his burnished bronze eyes and find myself in the past, standing before the boy he once was. Selfless and sweet. Thoughtful and always ready to help. My best friend, my safe place, my everything.
“Noah,” a woman’s voice drifts from the open front door. “Noah.”
Until he wasn’t.
The fragile bubble around us bursts, the spell broken. He pulls the sunglasses out from under my cast, and hangs them back on the collar of his t-shirt. His eyes leave me, shifting to the open doorway. Without another word, he backs away and stalks out while I remain plastered against the wall with only a familiar sense of loss to keep me company.
Chapter Seven
Maren
It’s a little after nine by the time I pull up to my parents’ house and honk. Bebe struts out in a tight black top and jeans, her long hair blown out. She even has eye makeup on. Bebe dressed up is a rare sight so I can’t help but stare and smile.
“Get in, hot stuff. Let’s get this thing over with.”
She slides onto the passenger side and cranks up the music, Halsey singing Bad at Love. She mouths every single word in perfect timing.
It’s been a long road to recovery for Annabelle. Years passed where she wouldn’t even go to the supermarket, too self-conscious as she learned to identify with this new person life forced her to become.
She deserves someone who can appreciate how spectacular she really is. But that would mean Bebe would need to let him in first, and by the looks of it that ain’t happening any time soon.
“What the hell was Grandpa thinking buying this thing?”
My grandfather was as far from flashy as you can get and this truck is meant to draw attention. I’ve been garnering strange looks all over town when I drive it.
“I think he lost his ever-loving mind and you guys did nothing to stop him.”
My sister shrugs and goes back to singing along with the radio.
A short time later we pull into the very packed parking lot of my grandfather’s country western bar slash nightclub. It’s a beautiful old building, which once served as a hat-making factory around the turn of the century.