Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 57897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I was excited for a second shot with her and started pulling out all of my suitcases and duffels, putting everything away like I promised myself and simultaneously going through them to find something to wear. A duffel bag I didn’t remember packing was with my other things, and I put it on the bed to open it.
I wished I hadn’t.
The bag was full of Charlotte’s old clothes. Underwear and T-shirts, mostly things that I bought her. There was a folded-up note in there as well, with my name on the outside. I opened it up, and all the old anger and betrayal flooded my body again.
It was a Dear John letter, explaining her reasons for leaving. They were just as shallow and cruel as they were when she said them in person. I realized she had originally packed this bag and made this note with the intention of leaving without saying anything to me face-to-face.
Angry, I shoved the letter into the bag and dropped the whole thing to the floor, kicking it hard underneath the bed. I stomped off after that, heading for a shower while I vowed to myself to never let my heart get so wrapped up in a woman again. Not unless I knew for sure it was forever.
15
BETH ANN
I had actually been thinking it would be nice to take a drive that afternoon. I would be able to test the car out and see if it was on its last legs. I would be able to drive through some of the city of Ashford and see what kind of town I was working with, more than what I'd seen when I went to Sergio’s, at least. Plus, I would get to see Jason at the end of it.
Shrugging, I packed a small cooler with some water and tossed in a bag of chips and some jerky. It wasn’t exactly the healthiest food in the world, but I figured if my car did break down somewhere, at least I had something with protein and salt in it. That would keep me going for a while.
I headed out into the midafternoon sun and was happy to see that my car was neither overheating nor making any of the strained noises it had on the way to the trailer the first time around. As I wound through the quaint town of Ashford, I tried to take note of where everything was. Sergio’s came up quickly, or at least what passed for quickly around here. Then Dina’s Diner wasn’t far after that, just on the edge of town.
I passed through a shopping center with a couple of interesting-looking cooking classes being held in one of the empty lots and made my way through to the other side of the city. There I could choose to either go left and head toward the major shopping center at the edge of Ashford and the neighboring town, or I could head north, up Alphabet Mountain toward Jason’s place.
By the time I got to the address in the GPS, it was after four. It was a really cute cabin, cut out of the mountain with a huge yard behind it. I could see why Jason was excited to stay there. Just hanging out in a place like that for a couple of weeks would be like a vacation. For a moment, I wondered if the trailer or the house that was on my land would ever look like that. If I could ever be that happy. I knocked on the door, and Jason answered just a moment later.
The smell hit me first. It was delicious and enticing. The second thing to hit me was, again, how good-looking Jason was. He was wearing a T-shirt for a metal band that I couldn’t read the name of because of the strange razor-wire font, and jeans. It was a super-casual look, but with his barrel chest and thick, muscular arms, it looked like it was painted on him. I wasn’t going to complain.
“Hey, you,” he said. “Come on in.”
“Hey,” I said, smiling. There was a brief moment where it almost felt like the appropriate thing would be to lean in for a kiss, but Jason turned and headed back into the kitchen, leaving me to follow behind. “What smells so good in here?”
“Food,” he said, grinning. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see in…” He pulled out his phone and seemed to check the time. “About one minute and fifteen seconds.
“Very precise,” I joked. “Are you that dogmatic about everything?”
“Not even close,” he said. “But when it comes to cooking, I have to be. Otherwise, I end up burning stuff.”
The timer went off, and he held up a finger as if he remembered something before disappearing into the kitchen again. I heard him tooling around in there and felt compelled to go help. But he clearly wanted to do this on his own. Suddenly, his voice piped up.