Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“What Jasper did…” I shake my head and try to find the right words that will convey everything I feel inside. “My heart broke for Austin, but I had nothing to do with it.”
Indecision flickers across her face. It’s the first break in her stoicism that I’ve seen. “Honestly, I don’t know what to believe.”
I press my lips together and glance away as our conversation stalls and an uncomfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Instead of continuing this useless exchange, I turn toward the exit, only wanting to flee.
Just as I reach the door and lock my fingers around the brushed nickel handle, I hesitate. Even though I should walk away, something won’t allow me to do it.
I swing around and meet her gaze. “I get why you’re angry. You think I purposefully set out to mess with your brother, but that’s not what happened. If anyone’s inflicted pain and damage, it’s him.” When she opens her mouth to argue, I hold up a hand. “It’s the truth. Whether you want to believe it or not. Regardless, what’s going on between us isn’t any of your business. It’s between Austin and myself. You need to let us work it out on our own.”
If that’s even possible.
She jerks a brow. “Is that so?”
I straighten to my full height and hold her penetrating stare. “Yes.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine as she brings the mug to her lips and takes a sip. It’s as if she’s silently assessing me above the rim.
My guess is that I’ve surprised her.
I’ve always been quiet, more comfortable lurking in the background, watching life unfold from a safe distance. That’s no longer possible. If I’ve learned anything over the past couple weeks, it’s that I need to stand up for myself, otherwise these people will chew me up and spit me out.
Honestly…it feels good to give voice to the thoughts swirling through my brain and not keep everything bottled up inside where it can silently fester.
When she remains quiet, I take that as my cue to leave. Nothing between us has been solved, but it feels like a small victory on my part. I could have allowed Summer to voice her opinion without saying a word, and I didn’t.
It’s a relief when the glass sliding door slams shut behind me. For just a moment, I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and inhale a breath of fresh air, holding it captive before gradually releasing it. As I stand motionless, allowing the chilly breeze to slide over my cheeks, I realize my body is shaking.
My fingers wrap around the banister as I jog down the wooden steps before making my way across the dunes to the shoreline. As I reach the water, my conversation with Summer gets shoved to the back of my mind as excitement grows inside me and I raise the camera to my face, snapping a few photos of the water along with the stretch of empty beach. I lift my face to the sky as the warmth of the sun pours over me and spot a few seagulls circling lazily overhead.
Contentment like I haven’t experienced in a long time suffuses every cell of my being as I walk along the hard-packed sand, careful to avoid the waves that lap at the shore. After passing a few sprawling mansions, I drop into a squat and pick up a small clam shell before wiping off the tiny grains of sand that cling to the smooth exterior and slip it into my pocket for safekeeping.
This moment has made the entire weekend worth it.
Everything loosens within me as I take about a hundred different shots of the lake, houses, trees, the dunes with their tall tan and green grasses that wave gently in the breeze.
This place is pure magic.
There’s something about the sand, water, and sun that soothes everything raw and chafed inside until it’s almost possible to forget about all the hurt that’s been inflicted. I want to bottle up this feeling and keep it with me long after I leave the beach.
As I stare through the viewfinder, a shape takes form in the distance, and I realize that it’s a person. I press the shutter trigger a few times in quick succession as the guy continues to jog toward me. My heart stutters a painful beat when I realize it’s Austin. Even though the temperature hovers in the mid-sixties, he’s wearing a black tank that shows off the bulging muscles of his biceps. It’s enough to make my mouth turn cottony and my pulse hitch.
I stand rooted in place and continue snapping shots. Already, I know that when I return home, I’ll pour over the photographs. Physically speaking, Austin Hawthorne is a perfect specimen. More god than man. The closer he gets, the harder my heart slams against my ribcage as memories from last night circle through my head.