Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 71074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
He walks over to her and bends to kiss her lips. Their love is one of a kind. The kind of love you wish for. The kind of love that survives the hard times. The kind of love I have wished for my whole life. "So what’s troubling you?" Grandpa says, sitting down at the counter and looking over at me. "Twelve pies," he says. "Something must be weighing on your mind.”
"Can’t I just want to bake?" I throw up my hands. "Or that I missed Grandma."
"That," he says, pointing at me with his fork, "means someone has gotten under your skin."
"No one is anywhere," I say, walking to the fridge and grabbing the sweet tea. "Besides, if someone was under my skin, I’d be out shooting with you."
He chuckles. "You always had the best shot out of everyone," he says, and he is not wrong. He taught me how to shoot when I was almost twelve, and my aim was on point. He takes another bite. "How’s your house guest?"
"Alive," I say, taking a sip of the tea. "Speaking of, I should get going."
"You coming on Sunday?" my grandfather asks, and I just nod my head. "You better or I’m going to come and get you."
"That is six days away," I say. "I’ll be there."
"Good," he says. "Now let me finish my pie, and I can drive you home.”
"I can walk," I say, putting my purse over my shoulder, and he just gives me the side-eye.
"You think just because I don’t show up at the meetings with the men that I don’t know what’s going on," he says. "I know everything about my family. So let me finish this pie, and then I can take you."
"You can’t argue with him, honey," my grandmother says, smirking at him. "Trust me, I’ve been doing that my whole life," she says.
"I let you win," he says, looking up as he takes his last bite, and my grandmother glares at him. "Like now, I’m going to let you win and kiss you right before I leave."
She shakes her head but lets him kiss her. "See you soon." She comes over to me and hugs me. "You come on back and cook with me whenever you have yourself in a pickle."
I shake my head and follow my grandfather out of the house. His pickup truck is the same one he’s had for the past twenty years. Even though Uncle Casey bought him a new one five years ago, he still drives this one.
The door creaks when I open it, and when I sit down, I feel the springs under my butt. "It’s time we retire this truck,” I say. "Don’t you think?"
"She still has a couple of years left in her," he says, and I laugh at him.
"You’ve been saying that for the last ten years," I remind him, and now he’s the one laughing.
We pull up to my house, and I lean over the seat and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for driving me home,” I say and open the door to get out. The creaking is even louder now, and I slam the door, and he watches me walk into the house.
I slip the key in and unlock the door, not sure if Mayson will even be back. The cool air of the house hits me right away as I step in, and my eyes go to the green duffel bag at the front door. The same bag Ethan brought him over last week. My heart starts to speed up in my chest even faster than it did this morning when he walked away from me. I put my keys down on the table in the front hall.
My hands are suddenly sweaty and shaking. I lock it down, blinking away the tears climbing into my eyes. With heavy feet, I walk into the house, expecting him to be sitting on the couch waiting for me.
When I walk in and don’t see him there, I go to the kitchen and take a glass out, walking over to the sink and filling it with some cold water. My mouth suddenly dry, my eyes are fixated on the trees outside.
I hear movement in his room, and I brace myself for what is coming. "Hi," he says, and I make the stupid mistake of looking over my shoulder and seeing him in jeans and a black shirt. His hair is still wet from the shower he must have just taken.
"Hi," I say, turning back around to look forward.
"Did you just get home?" he asks, and I nod my head.
"Yeah, Grandpa just dropped me off," I say, putting the glass in the sink and then turning around. "I’m going to go change." I avoid his eyes. I avoid even walking next to him. The lump in my throat is stuck when I get into my room, and I close the door. It’s the first time I’ve done that with him in the house.