Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I just can’t.
CHAPTER 17
Orion
“It’s been six days. I have no idea what I’m still doing here.”
Mrs. Johnson smiles over a California roll, then does an eye roll of her own. We’re marooned in a corner table at what has quickly become ‘our’ sushi spot. It’s out of the way, and I feel like we can talk privately back here, and no one will overhear us. Not that it really matters since I’m not talking about illegal activities here. I’m just talking about losing the only woman who has ever made my heart literally skip a beat. I think it was literally. There were a few times when it was quite painful in my chest.
“I think we both know why you’re here,” she argues.
“Yeah, it’s obvious, but I’m starting to lose focus. How much is too much? How much is borderline desperate and pathetic and can’t take no for an answer and creepy and—”
“I think it’s noble that you’re still here,” she graciously says.
“It’s not noble just sticking around and waiting for her to change her mind, though. That’s desperate.”
The grin that accompanies a quick jab of the sushi with chopsticks tells me that Mrs. Johnson has been around long enough to call a bluff or two, and right now, she’s calling me on my pity party. “It’s not desperation that’s driving you. It’s honor and nobility. It’s concern and care. It might even be an attachment that packs a punch that you’re not quite ready to admit you’ve been hit by yet.”
“Hmm.”
“Wasabi shot?” she asks with a grin.
“How much?”
Mrs. Johnson rolls out a piece that’s double the size of a large pea. She lifts a brow daringly at me, then fluffs her white curls with her free hand, which reminds me of someone who is too cool for school sweeping back their greased-up locks and spitting a toothpick out the side of their mouth, except this lady is the real deal.
I roll out a ball of equal size, and then, on the count of three, we throw them back. The deal is we have to chew. Not just swallowing it whole and hoping for the best.
“Oh, peanuts and hotdogs,” I gasp as my eyes begin to tear up. “That’s wicked.”
“Wicked strong.” Mrs. Johnson doesn’t break a sweat or even get an extra wrinkle on her forehead. She just swallows and reaches for her water glass to wash things down, all without making a sound.
Meanwhile, I’m dying over here, stewing in my own juices, breaking into a cold sweat, and fanning my mouth because it feels like fire just took up permanent residence in there.
I quickly shove two pieces of sushi in my mouth and chew furiously to drown out the burn, but I can barely taste anything past the horseradish still flaming my taste buds.
“So you stayed because you’re worried about Echo. I know that’s the reason. Her mother came back out of nowhere, and then she dumped you and said she wasn’t going to move with you after all or even give you a chance. She basically said there was no room in her life for you.”
“It wasn’t really like that, but essentially, yes.”
“I know, I know, you’ve told me everything,” Mrs. Johnson says with a wave of her hand.
So, as soon as Echo called me that afternoon, I tracked down Mrs. Johnson’s number—and no, not in unethical ways. I can do a basic internet search in an online phone directory just like the next person. Then, I called her, and faster than I knew what was happening, I was invited over for freshly baked peanut butter cookies, complete with the fork indent, a sprinkling of grainy sugar on top, and chocolate milk. She surprised me with the chocolate milk but insisted it was heaven with peanut butter. And she was right.
I poured my heart out to her, and she listened thoughtfully. I could have called Granny or any one of my brothers, but I needed to talk to someone who knew Echo better than I did. I needed to know if it was a crazy bad idea to stay in Seattle for a while or if it was just crazy.
“You’re not here to pressure Echo into anything. She doesn’t even know that you haven’t flown back home yet,” Mrs. Johnson reasons.
“Yeah, I figured I’d stick it out for a few days and make sure everything was going to be okay. I don’t trust Echo’s mom, especially after what you told me.”
That makes two pink spots appear on the elderly woman’s cheeks. “I know for a fact that it wasn’t my story to tell, but I think you needed to hear it, so that’s the only reason I told you what happened.”
“I realize that. It makes me furious and hurt and…and all sorts of things to know that Melody just abandoned Echo when she was a teenager to go off and live her own life.”