Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I wrapped my arms around her and held on until the storm of emotion drained away. When my chest loosened and my eyes dried, I brushed the heels of my palms against my cheeks, embarrassed to have lost it like that in front of her.
“Sorry,” I started to say.
She pressed her lips to my temple, then to my cheek. “Don’t be sorry, Forrest. You loved him. I’m so sorry you lost him.” Her lashes were spiky with tears, her eyes as bright as sapphires.
I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, but now wasn’t the time.
“I didn’t think this would be so hard,” I said, looking at the storage bin between my feet, filled with the remnants of my childhood. “I feel like a jerk for putting my mom through this.”
“You’re not,” Sterling said, “though I get why you feel that way. This is the legacy your father left for you. Of course, you want to follow it. It’s yours. And I understand why it hurts her that you have to. That doesn’t make you wrong.”
“No,” I agreed, “it doesn’t make me wrong.” A knock sounded on the door, and I looked up to see my stepfather, Jerry, his graying hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore a pair of leather thong sandals on his feet and an untucked, faded chambray shirt over a pair of jeans, so like my mother’s, I was sure I’d been right in guessing where hers had come from.
“Good to see you, Forrest. Sterling,” he said with a welcoming nod. “Looking forward to getting to know you. I’m Jerry. Emily says soups on. She made a strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert to go with those ginger snaps.”
He didn’t comment on my red eyes or Sterling’s spiky lashes, and none of us said a thing about my mom’s puffy, bloodshot eyes when we got to the kitchen. There were times when my family’s ability to ignore reality grated at me. This was not one of them. We all needed a break.
Dinner was easier than I thought it would be. We didn’t talk about why we were there, or my father, or the fact that all of us had been crying. Instead, my mom and Jerry gave Sterling a friendly third degree, and she played along, charming them both. She told them about working for her sister Quinn in the guide shop, the thriving artists’ communities in western North Carolina, and her new career goals, managing to fill them in while avoiding any mention of ciphers or clues or why we’d been in Atlanta.
Then we got to everything I’d been doing in the last year, which sadly wasn’t much other than work. But I loved my job at the inn and went into detail on a few of the projects my mom knew about.
Before I realized how much time had passed, I looked over to see Sterling, her jaw wide in a yawn.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s only eight here, but it’s late for me. It’s been a very long day.”
“You two need a good night’s sleep,” my mother said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You can get to business tomorrow. How long can you stay?”
I looked to Sterling, who answered, “I have to be back at Heartstone Manor in eleven days.”
“Well,” Jerry said, “you’re welcome here for as long as you have.”
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it.
“Jerry put your things in the guest room,” my mother said. “I’ll see you both at breakfast bright and early.”
“The chickens will have us all up at dawn,” I explained to Sterling as we climbed the stairs. My mom and Jerry’s bedroom was on the first floor, and I was grateful for the distance.
Sterling disappeared into the attached bathroom as soon as she’d opened her small suitcase. She emerged from the shower with her hair dry, piled on top of her head in a messy bun, strands of gold falling around her damp shoulders.
“Flying always makes me feel gross,” she said.
I couldn’t resist reaching out to touch all that damp, smooth skin, but I didn’t linger, heading for my own quick shower before joining her between crisp white sheets.
“This day has been about a million years long,” she said, turning into my arms.
“At least,” I agreed, rolling, gently pushing her onto her back.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “We’re in your mother’s house,” she said.
“I know, but she and Jerry are all the way downstairs, and I’m pretty sure you know how to keep quiet.” I pulled her out of the straps of the camisole she had chosen to sleep in, dragging it down from her shoulders to hook under her full breasts. “Can you?” I asked, looking up into her eyes shadowed in the near dark.
I saw her face shift as she smiled down at me. “I don’t know,” she said. “Can I? I guess we’ll find out.”