Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
We come to the display for the date with a book. Each book is wrapped in non-descript brown packaging with a note written on the outside describing the genre.
“Oh, let’s do this,” Piper says. She sorts through the books until she picks one that’s a shifter romance and I grab a young adult fantasy. I love discovering magical new worlds. Books like these saved my life when I was a teenager so even though I might be grown, I’ll always support young adult authors.
I pay for our books and guide her to the outdoor patio behind the bookstore. It’s surrounded on every side by a trellis that’s thick with red and gold ivy. In the center of the patio is a firepit that fills the air with the scent of woodsmoke. Surrounding the firepit are seating options including an outdoor couch and several chairs.
This place was my own personal oasis once upon a time. It still is, even though I don’t get here very often.
Piper selects the couch with faded blue cushions to sit on and I’m secretly delighted that she picked a spot where I can sit right next to her. My thigh rests against her denim clad one and I have to will my cock to behave. Being so close to Piper and smelling her sweet scent is intoxicating.
Every so often, she nudges me to share a line from her book and I do the same to her. There’s just something special about reading with someone else, and I love that I get to share this with her.
Hours later, we’re eating sandwiches on the patio and sipping fresh coffees. “You said you spent your teenage years here.”
I swallow down the last bite of tomato mozzarella panini. I debate telling her my story for a moment before deciding I want her to know. I want Piper to see me, the real me. “My mom got sick. Multiple sclerosis. My dad skipped out and that left me to take care of her and my three younger sisters. This place was my refuge in the moments when the pressure felt like it was too much to bear.”
With mounting medical bills and a wedding lodge on the brink of disaster, I put my head down and got to work. Now my mama is long gone but her legacy lives on in the Forever After Lodge.
She lived to see me turn it into the premier wedding destination in the Southeast. She was the face of the whole operation but since her passing, the place has continued to flourish. She left a legacy and that’s more than I can say for the man who drank himself to death.
Piper lets out a soft breath. “That sucks.”
I’m grateful that she didn’t tell me she was sorry. It’s a catchphrase that people say when they don’t know how to fill the silence after a sad story. It doesn’t help. Nor do any of the useless platitudes that are offered. Everything happens for a reason. It could be worse. Time heals all wounds.
Sometimes, it’s just better to acknowledge that life sucks and that you’re here with the person who’s suffering.
She toes off her shoes, revealing socks with little owls on them. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. In a soft whisper, she says, “I was always a big reader, but I got into romance books a few years ago. A call came in and this one was begging for help. She was trapped in her car, teetering on the edge of the bridge.”
Tears slide down her face and I slip my arm around her shoulders. I can’t give her much, but I can give her my presence and a safe place to tell her story. She sniffs and continues, “She was begging me to send help and I’m getting the information as fast as I can. But then there’s this awful screeching noise and she was just gone. Went over the edge. They dragged the river, but they never found her. Sometimes at night, I can still hear her frantic cries for help.”
I’ve always admired first responders like police officers and firefighters who rush into dangerous situations. But I’d never considered how stressful and traumatic it has to be for the dispatchers who answer the phone, the ones who can only sit and listen as horrific tragedies unfold.
“I just needed happy endings after that. Stories that could give me a reason to keep hoping, keep seeing good in the world.”
“I think that’s a great coping strategy.” I press a kiss to the top of her head and for a long time, we sit together and don’t say a word.
When the sun is finally low in the sky and there’s a slight nip in the air, I tug on her hand. “Come on. I know a place not far from here.”