Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Above the pain.
I’d had enough pain. As a teenager, I only wanted to traffic in happiness, dominance, and success.
Then, I grew up. I started therapy and realized strong men don’t hold vulnerability at a distance. They embrace it. They feel their feelings and express their feelings and in doing so, show the people they love that they’re not alone.
But Mel isn’t alone. She has so many people who love her. I know she’s hurting right now—I could see how upset she was when she ran out of the police station—but this is for the best. She’ll get through this hard patch just fine without me and find a hometown guy who can give her what she really needs.
As painful as this is, there’s comfort in doing what’s right.
Or so I tell myself, but as the gray afternoon turns to a grayer evening, I can’t seem to get up from the couch. I tell myself to go take a shower, make a sandwich, grab a beer—something—but I don’t move. I don’t even turn on the television or light the pellet stove to start a fire.
I just sit, staring out the window at the softly falling snow and the squirrels that occasionally scurry through the bare branches, wondering how I ever thought Nutty was one of them.
It’s obvious now that he’s a different species from these creatures…and possibly possessed by some sort of horny demon. But I’ll miss him anyway, and I’ll never look at a squirrel again without thinking about Mel and Chase and this magical sliver of time when becoming a family felt inevitable.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Mel and I were planning on a late lunch, but then the police knocked on the door, and the rest as they say is history.
Shitty, awful, no-good history…
But my body needs fuel. This injury isn’t going to continue to heal at a breakneck pace without proper nutrition.
I drag myself off the couch and shuffle into the kitchen. I open the fridge, take one look at the vibrant, healthy ingredients Melissa procured to make another incredible meal and slam it shut. I won’t do those ingredients justice. I’ll have something delivered and drop the groceries by her place on my way out of town tomorrow.
Or, better yet, ask Nora for one last favor. She didn’t like clearing Melissa’s things out for me today, but she did it. If I beg hard enough, my sister will always step in and do me a solid. I’m lucky that way. I may not have a big family, but Nora and Gram are the best of the best.
I should order something delivered to Nora’s house, too, as a thank you.
I’m scrolling through my phone for deliverable dessert options—my sister and Matty both have a sweet tooth—when a sharp knock on the door makes me jump half out of my skin.
I curse and shout, “Who is it?”
The only company I want right now is the delivery driver who will drop my food once I order it, take their tip, and go.
“It’s Nora, and don’t worry, I don’t want to come in,” comes my sister’s voice from the other side of the door. “I’m just leaving you something on the porch that you should collect as soon as possible. It’s time sensitive. Bye, love you!”
My brows snap together. Setting my phone on the counter, I stride toward the door, determined to get there before Nora bails. Whatever she’s leaving, I get the feeling I’m not going to like it.
I whip open the door to find Nora already pulling down the long driveway and sigh. Then, I look down to see Nutty’s cage sitting on the porch and Nutty himself standing at one side. He clings to the bars like a tiny prisoner, gazing up at me with liquid brown eyes that beg me to set him free.
“I can’t, dude, you’re a humping maniac when it’s just the two of us. You only behave when Mel’s around,” I say, wondering what this is about.
Has Mel decided she doesn’t want the squirrel, after all? If so, I’ll have to return him to the shelter. Once I’m travelling again, I’ll be gone too often to commit to a pet.
Especially one who reminds me of the one who got away…
“You can come in tonight, but that’s it,” I say, gripping the handle at the top of the cage. Nutty shifts as I lift him, drawing my attention to the small tube hanging around his neck.
I squint, but I can’t tell exactly what it is. Still, it sends hope rushing through my chest. I carry Nutty inside, setting his cage on the tile beside the stove. I flick the switch to start the fire before sitting down in front of it and reaching for the door to the enclosure.
“I’m going to let you out, but if you come for my face, that’s it. You’re going back in the cage or out the door, I don’t care which.”