Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
They stepped in line and when it was their turn, Pete’s eyes went wide when he saw who was standing in front of him.
“Lauren!” he exclaimed in a fond tone. “How have you been? How’s the big city life in New York treating you?”
“Just great, Pete,” she said, her typical infectious grin lighting up her face. “It’s nice to see you’re still peddling the best ice cream in the state.”
He scoffed at the compliment, but he was smiling as his gaze shifted to Chase, who was still holding her hand. “And who is this young man with you? He doesn’t look like a local.”
“He’s not.” Lauren beamed up at him before returning her gaze to Pete. “This is Chase. He’s here with me for the weekend, to attend my sister’s wedding.”
“Ahhh,” Pete said with an understanding nod. “Well, welcome back. What can I get for the two of you?”
He opened the lid on the top of the cart, revealing tubs of various ice cream flavors inside the freezer compartment. Chase opted for a single serving of freshly churned butter brickle on a regular cone, while Lauren selected two scoops, one strawberry and the other chocolate.
They found a vacant park bench and sat down to eat their dessert, which was admittedly the most delicious ice cream Chase ever had. He finished his cone first, and since he found watching Lauren’s tongue slowly lick around her ice cream too damned erotic, he diverted his attention and pulled out the books he’d bought earlier on the Civil War. He skimmed through the pages, immersing himself in the pictures and explanation of each captured moment of battle.
“Sooo,” Lauren started tentatively, prompting Chase to glance up at her to see why she sounded so hesitant, and realized she’d finished her own ice cream cone at some point. “Is a love of history something you shared with your father?” she finally asked.
The question made him visibly tense, as any discussion about his father did, and even though she’d clearly seen him stiffen at her inquisition, she didn’t try to backtrack or recant her question, even knowing what a landmine she was possibly walking into. Instead, her unflinching gaze held his, so hopeful and compassionate, even.
She was giving him an opening to share something deeply personal with her, and he couldn’t forget the last time she’d made a casual comment about his dad and how he’d snapped at her, that anger and resentment he harbored toward his parent always simmering beneath the surface. Talking about Eli Gossard in any capacity had always been like picking off a scab on an old wound, but as he stared into Lauren’s caring eyes, he realized that he desperately wanted those scars to heal. He didn’t know if it was even possible, but this time, he didn’t try to evade, or avoid, the painful conversation.
“No,” he finally said in a quiet tone. “Getting lost in history books was my escape and distraction from the life I was living with my father.”
Her eyes were brimming with questions, but she remained silent, allowing him to make the decision of whether or not he continued to give her a glimpse into his own childhood and past. Knowing there would be no judgement from Lauren, he allowed those walls to lower enough to give her a glimpse into his past.
Setting aside the history books next to him on the bench, he exhaled a deep breath and dove in before he lost the nerve, starting at the beginning so Lauren could understand the whole story. “My parents, Eli and Darlene, got married because they were pregnant with me. I doubt love ever played into that decision, because from as young as I can remember, they fought constantly. Loud, bitter, nasty fights that were horrific to watch, and hear, as a kid. The things they said to one another were so awful and hurtful. The one thing my mother would always tell my father was that she never would have married him if she hadn’t gotten knocked up with me, which of course, made me feel as though I was the issue.”
“I’m so sorry, Chase,” she said softly, and he didn’t miss the ache in her voice.
He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, and stared down at the concrete beneath his leather loafers, determined to finish the story. “When I was seven, one day I came home from school and my mom was gone. She’d left my father for another guy, and my father told me they were getting a divorce.” He cast a glance at Lauren, his own heart twisting in his chest at the pain he saw in her eyes, for him. “She never said goodbye to me. She just packed up her things and left, and I never saw or spoke to her again, so I thought her leaving was all my fault. That I was to blame.”