Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Worth…” Monroe made a pained noise, one I felt deep in my soul.
“And say I blamed him for years. I’m in the story as well.” I was slowly coming to terms with accepting my role. It was the sort of part no one ever wanted to play, but I couldn’t spend the rest of my life running from it either. “I want you to tell the whole story, not just the pretty parts. Tell the parts where people screwed up. Where they jumped to conclusions. Where they were only human themselves.”
I had to stop there to wipe my eyes again.
“Wow. Are you sure you’re not the writer?” Monroe, too, needed to dab his eyes. Strangely, his tearing up calmed me. If my navy lieutenant big bad NCIS investigator friend could cry, so could I. “I’ll do my best. I’m honored that you’ll let me try.”
“You’re my friends.” I glanced outside the front window, where patrons continued to linger in front of the shop. So much love had filled the day that it was easier for me to see other places where love had been all along. “And you guys loved her too.”
“We did.” Holden’s voice cracked. “She was loved. We tried to showcase what she meant to the community, but maybe we could have centered her family and her love for them more.”
“That’s it.” Rocking in my seat, I struggled to find the right words. “It’s a love story. Maybe not a romance, but it’s a story with love surrounding it. And love that doesn’t go away simply because the facts don’t paint the perfect picture. Like I told Sam today, people don’t have to be perfect to be loved.”
“No, they don’t.” Monroe’s voice turned as stern as Sam’s could. It was easy to see how he’d been an imposing lieutenant. “And that includes you.”
“I’m working on believing that and letting people see my imperfections.”
“It’s okay to be a work in progress.” Holden smiled encouragingly.
“We all are.” I looked at my friends, really looked, perhaps for the first time in years. They were older and wiser, but like me, they were still human. “And in many ways, it’s all of our stories—mine sure, but the town, Sam, both of you, so many people had their lives changed because of what happened.”
Would Holden have met Cal without the case? Would Knox and Monroe have bonded as strongly? Like Sam said, some questions were unanswerable. And I didn’t require answers to know I wasn’t the only one impacted by my mother’s disappearance. The whole community had been shaped by it, and I had to acknowledge that. And for all those people, Monroe’s book deserved to be written.
“I’m grateful you’re trusting us.” Monroe’s voice continued to waver.
“There’s no one I’d trust more.” It was my turn to reassure, so I reached for his hand, gave it an awkward pat.
“And there’s no one we’d trust more with Sam.” Obviously sensing we needed a lighter topic, Holden gave a forced chuckle and eyebrow raise. “Ordinarily, this is where we’d threaten you.”
“As friends do.” Monroe gave Holden a warning look.
“But those jokes are less funny here, so I’ll simply say treat him right.” Holden’s next laugh was far more sincere.
“And he better treat you right as well,” Monroe added.
“And you both better not miss another trivia night.” Holden wagged a finger, mock scolding, but I caught the message: come around more often.
“We’ll be there.” I nodded. Like Sam, these friends were rare and precious, not to be taken for granted. And I didn’t need to waste time worrying about if I deserved their friendship. I had it, and that was what truly mattered.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sam
I rode an endorphin high all day, reuniting with former baristas, catching up with old friends, and serving gallons of coffee. The Blessed Bean had stayed busy all the way to closing, and if even a fraction of the increased business kept up, we’d be able to justify night hours soon. The thought of being able to help more people had me more than a little giddy.
And working next to Worth all day had been a further rush. Too wired to cook, we’d split a pizza, a novelty since Worth’s stomach was still healing. After I put the leftovers of the pesto chicken pizza in the fridge, I walked back to the couch where Worth was sprawled. Good. He was right where I wanted him.
“What a day.” He yawned and stretched his arms across the back of the couch before glancing toward the stairs. Delilah and Buttercup had disappeared up there earlier. “I might sleep a week.”
“Not yet.” I closed the remaining distance between us, coming to stand between his spread legs. “I have plans for you.”
“Plans?” He perked up, voice going from exhausted to interested in a single syllable. “I might wake up for plans.”