Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
I take one last look at myself, seeing so much of my mother looking back at me. Another reason to avoid the mirror: Taylor Rawlins would kick my ass backward and forward. Then she’d pick me up off the ground and go through all the necessary shit in order to make Shane leave without another thought. But my protector isn’t here, and I’m left to pick up the pieces of foolish mistakes. I do a quick and rough job of brushing my teeth, knowing I’m going to have to hoof it to the diner in order to make my opening shift. I’ve already got on my work clothes of jeans, sneakers, and a Down Home Diner black shirt. My hair is up and out of my face. There’s not a spot of makeup on my face, just some drugstore moisturizer, because Taylor Rawlins drilled it into my head to stay hydrated and to never leave the house or go to bed without moisturizing.
My alarm on my phone goes off, so I drop the toothbrush in the holder and hit the button as fast as possible. Waking up Shane right now would only cause me to be late. There’s no way I’ll allow that to happen. The diner is my bread and butter. The medical transcriptionist job pays for the schooling I’m putting myself through years later than I care to admit. I flip the switch to the ensuite bathroom, then grab my coat off the foot of the bed, refusing to think about how a package was left on my front porch after a certain Johnson family member gave me a ride home. I’ve tried to bring it up to Mrs. Johnson, but she only told me it wasn’t her. I knew, deep down, he’d be the only one to do something so sweet and not say a single word. I should reach out to him, thank him at the very least or offer him some money. Except I’m a big baby and am avoiding Ryland Johnson like usual.
He sees too much.
He senses too much.
Ryland is everything I’m not—sensible and stable. The complete opposite of me. I’m foolish and unsteady. A lot like an active volcano where you’ll never know when they’ll blow.
I pocket my phone, grab my bag, and compartmentalize another piece of my life. I’m light on my feet as I walk through the house, not bothering to make a pot of coffee or grab a bite to eat from my own home. Nope, my main goal is to be as quiet as possible and get out unscathed. I’m halfway to the door when I hear Shane’s voice.
“Pick up a six-pack of beer on your way home, wife.” I look over my shoulder. Shane is sitting in the dark at the kitchen table. The one I watched my mom painstakingly restore after finding it on the side of the road. He tarnishes everything, and I loathe myself a little bit more.
“Get it yourself, and I’m not your wife. I haven’t been in a long time,” I smart back, bracing for his verbal comeback.
“Living under the same roof; a piece of paper doesn’t mean dick.” Shane brings a bottle of beer to his lips and drinks more than half of it. Great, he’s on an all-night bender.
“Not for long,” I mutter under my breath. We’ve been divorced for a while now. I managed to get him to sign the court documents when he’d been drinking, making sure to file them the very next day. The only problem was the aftermath. He went on a rampage and screamed he wasn’t leaving, which is where we are now. The eviction process is long and lengthy. Soon, though. I open the front door and escape into the jarring cold air.
“What did you say?” I hear roared behind me before a thud hits the door. I’m going to have to be careful coming home tonight. Usually, he’ll keep to himself. There will be days when I don’t see or hear from him. But since Lady Luck is not on my side, I’m sure this evening is going to be one for the books. It’s rare to have any interaction with Shane lately, but twice now, in less than a month, he’s made comments, the last time being when Ryland dropped me off. A conversation I’ll never forget and refuse to revisit.
Today is not the day. Tomorrow isn’t either. But there’s always the day after that.
TWO
RYLAND
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” I turn my head toward where Mom is standing. I’m watching the herd of cattle file in; we’re rotating them from the north pasture down to the south. The weather is going to be brutal this winter. Where we’re moving them provides more shelter, more water, and is easier for us to get to should something happen.