Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 68006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“Oh God. What happened?”
In monotone, I relay the story. “I used to love to play volleyball. You’ve seen my tattoo.”
“Yeah.”
“It was my tenth birthday, and of course she had shoved me in the closet—”
“Wait. On your birthday?”
“It’s a long story. I should’ve left that part out.”
“I knew you had it bad, but— I guess if she’s the kind of parent who shoves a kid in the closet, why would she make an exception on a birthday?”
“Just let me finish the story. Maybe one day I’ll tell you everything.”
He nods, playing with strands of my hair that have come loose from my French braid.
“Anyway, when she finally let me out of the closet, there was a present sitting at my place at the table. It was wrapped in plain red wrapping paper, but when I looked closer, it actually had a snowflake pattern in darker red on it. So she couldn’t even buy birthday wrapping paper—”
He opens his mouth but I gesture him to stay quiet.
“That’s not really important. Just something I remember.”
“If you remember it, then it is important. Something that stayed with you. But anyway, go ahead.”
I draw a breath. “So I open the present, and inside was”—I swallow against the lump in my throat—“my volleyball.”
“A volleyball?”
“No. My volleyball, Leif. The volleyball I had scraped and saved for with my own money. So that I could have my own volleyball when I played with the other girls after school. It was deflated in a shoebox.”
“She deflated your volleyball?”
“Not only that, she punctured it in several places so I couldn’t reinflate it.” My lips tremble. “It was ruined. She said I was spending too much time playing volleyball, and that she needed me here at home. And then she made me—” I swallow again. “She made me thank her, Leif. She made me thank her for such a thoughtful gift.”
He pulls me to him. “Kelly,” he says against my hair.
“So now you understand my tattoo. Volleyball made me happy. What I thought of as happy at that point. It gave me a break from my unsatisfying home life. And I was good at it. I mean, I probably never would’ve been as good as Aspen. But I liked it and I was good at it and I wanted to have my own volleyball. So I scrimped and saved and bought it, and she took it from me.”
“Your tattoo…”
I nod against him.
My tattoo. The volleyball surrounded by wilted black roses.
“To remind me. To remind me that anything good that comes into my life is just going to be taken away. As if I needed reminding.”
“My poor baby. After all you’ve been through, and then— the island.”
I nod.
In a flash, a memory and image come into my mind. I’ve talked to Macy about that day, but I don’t think about it a lot. I haven’t healed from it.
But now…with Leif’s love, I believe I have the strength to deal with it.
The days at the diner were always the same. My shift was breakfast and lunch.. Six a.m. to two p.m., six days a week. Tuesdays were my days off.
Today, one of the servers, Catania, called in sick, and I was pulling double duty.
I didn’t mind, though. Keeping busy kept my mind occupied, and I got double the tips. A win-win situation.
On top of that, the other server on duty—usually there were three of us at breakfast—Georgianna, got a phone call and asked me to cover her tables for a moment.
A nondescript man sat alone in one of Georgianna’s booths. He was nearly finished with his meal.
“Good morning,” I say to him. “Your server got a phone call, and she asked me to take care of you. Can I get you anything else, sir?”
He wipes his lips on his napkin and then sets it across his plate. “No, I think I’m good.” He pulls out his wallet and sets several bills on the table. “Just my check, please.”
“Right away, sir.”
I head to the kitchen, grab the order for his table number, and then return to the cash register where I total his order and print out his check. I hurry back to the table—
But he’s gone.
He left several bills on the table, enough to cover the check and leave Georgianna a hefty tip.
On top of the bills sits a piece of candy wrapped in foil.
All I did was bring his check, so I leave the entirety of the tip for Georgianna.
But I take the chocolate.
I unwrap it and pop it into my mouth.
Ah, the creaminess. It’s a milk chocolate unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Belgian chocolate, according to what is printed on the silver wrapper. I’ve never had anything so good in my mouth.
I do a quick check of the rest of my tables, and then take the order of some new customers seated in my area. As I’m turning the order in to the kitchen, my stomach churns.