Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I still remember the sick feeling that hit me in my gut when I called them to schedule a time to pick up the small portion of her ashes they hadn’t placed at her gravesite. They told me over the phone that they wouldn't be handing them over until I settled my bill.
I knew right then that my mom’s side of the family had used their influence in town to make things harder for me like they weren’t already difficult enough. I’m sure they believed doing that would force me to stay, but I was done trying to make everyone happy by that point. So I gave Tyler his ring back, traded in my car for a van, and started driving without a clue of how I would make it. I just knew I needed out.
Dropping my gaze to the map once more, I wonder what my mom would think about my choices over the past few months.
She’d probably be disappointed about some of them and worried about me traveling alone, but I also like to think she would be proud of me for taking a risk and stepping outside my comfort zone. Like her, I assumed I would live and die in the small town in Wyoming I grew up in, never seeing more than a few hundred miles around it. Now, I’ve seen a slice of Montana, a little of Washington state, and a whole lot of the Oregon coast, including Cannon Beach, where I’ve been living and working for the past five months.
I lucked out when I stopped at The View and met Ernest. I needed a place to rest my head without the worry of something happening to me since I’d been driving in my van for five days at that point, sleeping in parking lots and showering at rest stops along the way. I asked him on a whim if he needed any help, and he told me all he had open was a housekeeping position. He offered me the job that day, along with a room to stay in for free—a kindness I’m still not sure I deserved but will forever be grateful for.
When my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the Pop-Tarts I had this morning, I glance at my phone to check the time. I have a little over an hour before my shift at the bar, enough time to go eat and still make it back. After folding up the map, I tuck my money away and slip on my shoes before I grab my coat and keys.
As soon as I step out of my room, the door next to mine opens. I don’t bother saying hi or even turning to look at the man I know is there. I head for the stairs and down, hearing him behind me as I tuck my hands into my coat pockets to fight the chill in the evening air.
Stopping at the edge of the street, I wait for the traffic to clear so I can cross.
“Is there anywhere to eat around here?”
I look at him over my shoulder and find him scrolling on his phone as he walks toward me. “Are you talking to me?”
His startling colored eyes meet mine. “Yeah,” he replies, tucking his cell away in his pocket.
“There’s a small café not far from here. I’m going there now if you want to come with.” The offer is out before I have a chance to overthink it. Or maybe I only offer because I expect him to turn me down.
Catching up to me in two long strides, he falls into step with me when I start across the street. Neither of us speaks on the short walk down Main Street—something I’m thankful for. I hate when people fill silence with meaningless words about the weather or whatever is happening in the world.
When we reach the café, he opens the door, and I enter before him.
“You’re not working tonight, El?” Martin, one of the owners of The Coasts, asks when he comes out of the back and spots me. His eyes briefly go to the man with me, filling with surprise and maybe even a little appreciation.
Not a surprise.
“I am, but not for another hour.” I walk up to the counter.
“Who’s your friend?” he asks, and I look up at the man at my side and wait for him to answer. I might have a guess what his name is, but I haven’t asked him myself.
“Roman,” he tells him, and the confirmation he’s Valentino’s brother sinks to the pit of my stomach like a lead weight.
“How do you know El?”
“He’s staying at The View,” I cut in, then change the subject. “What are the specials today?”
“Tomato soup and turkey pesto grilled cheese.”
“Did Jeff make the soup?”
“What if he didn’t?” His eyes narrow slightly.