Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I back away carefully and tell myself to take things slow. It might not even be Thaddius. It might be his grandma coming back to tell me that I’d have better luck finding my own farm and adopting my own chickens than ever seeing Thaddius’ place again.
I almost don’t want to open the door, as stupid as that sounds. The only thing worse than being an optimistic, hopeful person and believing that life sometimes works miracles with the lemon tree it has growing strong and steady at all times is that hope sometimes stings. Like lemon juice in the cuts that life also throws your way.
My hand hovers over the handle. The doors here are heavy metal, but not the music. Just heavy and metal. Ha. I amuse myself sometimes. The handles are bronzed and shiny, but they feel flimsy. I’m not sure where the logic is in that.
Just open the damn thing.
But I don’t know if I can. If it’s not him, I’m going to be so disappointed. And if it’s him, and he’s just telling me that I need to leave so his family stops pestering him, then I’m going to be doubly disappointed. A double dose of disappointment is too much to stew on all the way across the country. A regular amount alone is already too much.
I know if I don’t face what’s coming, then I’m forever going to be a coward. I have a fifty-fifty chance here—the coin toss. Taking a deep breath, I twist the handle.
It’s not Thaddius’ grandma. Or his mom. It might be kind of a funny thing to think, but I know he’s here because he doesn’t want me to leave. My heart flutters madly. He looks rough. Like he’s been driving with one hand and tugging at his hair all the way here with the other. He also looks freshly showered and gorgeous in his usual faded jeans, but he went for a plaid button-up shirt, which is more dressed up than I’ve ever seen him yet. That has to mean something. And his left eye is twitching, which also means something. I know it does, and not just that he’s crazy annoyed. He looks tired. As tired as I feel. And he likely didn’t sleep, either. Was he thinking about me or just thinking about how to fix things with his family and put his life back together so he can finally get that peace and quiet he’s been craving? All the other signs say he was thinking about me. I know his annoyed face by now, and this isn’t it. It’s also not a mad face. It’s not a face that says I didn’t build that spike belt because you convinced me not to, so my grandma got through and gave me a piece of her mind, and now I’m here because I need to make things final, and if you don’t leave, one of us is going to end up going batshit bananas, and spike belts will be the least of our worries.
“H—hey.” My voice seems to be a rusty steel trap that’s all rust and no trap.
“Can we talk?”
“Uh, yeah. In here?” I rasp in reply.
“Sure. Please.”
“I don’t have any coffee.”
He doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy. Instead, he just nods. I step back, and he takes a step in. The rooms at this place are enough for a queen bed, a dresser on one side, a TV on the wall, and a small bathroom with a shower only, but it suddenly feels like it’s both the size of a closet and a huge open field. I can’t breathe. There’s not enough air in such a tiny space, but the field isn’t big enough to contain all my hope.
I sit down on the edge of the bed while Thaddius stands. He leans against the door like he can hold the entire place up with just his strength, and it sends a hot shiver racing through me even though now isn’t the time. It’s not the time to be noticing how adorable Thaddius looks when he’s uncertain like this or how that dark bristle of stubble on his jaw makes him look even more rugged. It’s not the time to go hot in the lady bits over his plaid shirt or shitkicker boots. My va-jay might be screaming at me that we have unfinished business, but my brain needs to be the one in control.
I told Thaddius we could live in the moment, but I’m not sure I was right.
He sighs and leans harder against the door. So hard that something cracks. He winces. Dear lord, was that his shoulder or his spine? “I thought you were everything that was wrong in my life. I blamed this notion of you—the faceless fiancé that I didn’t want to think about—for the relationship I had that went wrong, the way my family smothered me, and the burning desire I had to escape. It was never you. It was never even the concept of you. You were never what was wrong in my life. You were the good parts, and I didn’t even know it.”