Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
I know as I drive toward home, that I’ll have to get over a lot of things if I plan to stay. I’ll have to get used to seeing the boys playing in Henry’s backyard. I’ll have to get used to seeing Emily and Chase together. I’ll have to get used to the whispers behind my back, and the direct questions from those unafraid to approach me.
I’ll have to get used to missing a very large piece of my heart, because no matter how much I say I hate Chase Woodson, I know deep down that I’ll also love him forever. I imagine there’s no shortage of women spread across the US and possibly several other countries that feel the same way. His smile has never changed, and as much as I told myself I’d never be fooled by it, I was lost the second he directed it my way.
I know I have to make some decisions about my life. I need to accept that maybe an interior design business in Lindell might be in my best interest and that I need to give up on my dreams of designing homes for the rich and famous.
I need to stop looking for a job as a nanny because there are only two kids in existence that I want to be around.
The determination I started with after leaving the Lanes’ home begins to fade with every mile I put between myself and the city.
My hatred for Chase morphs quickly into pity and sadness. My confidence and resiliency turning into a litany of why me and questioning what it is about me that makes me so damn unlovable. It’s a repeat of the conversation I had with myself after the shit hit the fan with Sam, only this time, it’s accompanied with physical pain.
I pull over to the side of the road, parking in front of an old gas station that didn’t make it through the last downturn in the economy.
I press my fist into my chest, willing my heart to stop pounding. Deep breaths turn into sobs, and I do nothing to attempt to staunch the tears that roll down my face.
Life feels hopeless. I’m considering that everything that can possibly go wrong has gone wrong, but then my car sputters and dies.
I swear the universe hates me, but I can’t spend much time dwelling on it because it only takes minutes before the inside of the car is sweltering.
I open the door and try to crank the car. The gauges move, but it still won’t start.
Of course, I’m sitting on a stretch of road where no one is driving by, and honestly, I’ve seen too many episodes of Dateline to flag anyone down.
I pull out my phone and place a call to my dad, but it goes unanswered. My mom is next on my list, and thankfully, she answers on the third ring.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m broken down,” I tell her. “I need Dad.”
“Dad is out fishing with Bobby John. You’ll have to call someone else.”
“I don’t have anyone else to call,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I told you not to alienate yourself when you got back to town. People need people, Madison, and I think this proves that—”
“Can you call someone for me?”
“I don’t know of anyone who’s willing to drive to the city to help you. Do you have Triple A?”
“I had to cancel a lot of things when I left Austin, but I’m not in the city. I’m parked at the old gas station on Highway Twenty-nine just past the lake.”
“What in the world are you doing out there? You’re supposed to be in the city.” For the first time since I told her what was going on, there’s real fear in her voice.
“I left the city. I’m coming home.”
“I’ll find someone, Madison. Don’t talk to strangers.”
The line goes dead, and I huff in frustration. I’m able to sit for a few minutes longer with the door open before the heat is just unbearable. I grab my fountain drink from the console and head away from the car to find a little shade.
“Tell me they were just awful and you’re not moving,” Adalynn says instead of a hello when I call her.
“They’re awful and I’m not moving,” I say, a smile pulling up the corners of my mouth as I sit down on the picnic table under the store’s awning.
I remember my dad bringing me here to get saltwater taffy the owner had shipped in from a place in Galveston. It’s almost as good as the freeze-dried Skittles I tried at the bakery once Adalynn finally got it up and running.
I pull the phone away from my face while she squeals in delight.
“Is it bad that I spent the entire night hoping it would go that way?”
“I figured you did, but I also know that you woke up feeling guilty about it, too.”