Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
"Son …" He tries not to laugh. “I’ve been with your mother for over twenty years. I’ve gotten many looks in that time, but that"—he points at the door—"was a woman who is pissed. And I know a pissed-off woman when I see one." I open my mouth and then close it. “I don’t know what you did to her, but if she had a gun, she would have put a bullet in your foot."
"I’ve been gone for six years." My hands are still on my hips, and my feet are glued to the ground. I stay here waiting for her to open the door and come back out and be like, just kidding. I look at my father, who starts walking toward the barn, and back at the door that she just slammed in my face.
"What the fuck?” I follow my father. “Jesus,” I say when I have to make my way through the weeds. “This is bad,” I say, looking at my father, and he nods. “Kaine never had his property like this.” I take a look around and then back at the house. Weeds as tall as me are along the back porch. The back porch that looks like it’s going to fall off the house. I look into the windows, hoping to see her one more time.
"It got bad last year," my father starts. “Grandpa and I came by and did his grass when he was out." I listen. “Then he called and told me if I stepped on his property again, he would shoot me."
"Well, then, maybe that’s why she was pissed,” I say, looking down to make sure there are no snakes.
"She was pissed at you," my father reminds me. “She smiled at me."
We get close to the barn, and my heart speeds up again. My father goes into the barn through the open door, and I gasp. It was so clean six years ago, and now it’s dusty. The only thing still in the barn in the corner is his tractor. I look up at the loft where I spent the night with Hazel and see that the ladder has been removed. Half the roof has rotted through, too. "This thing needs to be demolished," my father says, looking around. “Let’s get out of here before someone gets hurt.”
I walk out now and stand with my father. “It’s a lot of land,” I say, looking far off into the distance where I know his land ends.
"It is," my father says, turning to walk back to his truck. After getting in the truck, I take one look back at the house, my eyes going to the window that I know is her bedroom. When we drive away, I close my eyes.
When my father asked me to come to work with him, I thought we would be in the clubhouse doing office work or even at the riding track. What I was not expecting was to be touring farms. The minute he turned into the road to the house, my heart sped up.
"What are we doing here?" I asked, looking at the trees as we drove closer and closer to Hazel’s house.
"I told Grandpa I would pass by here," he told me, and I thought nothing of it. "Kaine passed away a couple of days ago,” he said, and my head whipped around so fast I thought I was going to get whiplash. My only thought was that Hazel must be devastated. He hung the moon and the stars according to her, and she was his everything.
He got out of the truck, and I sat in the passenger seat, my leg bouncing up and down. My eyes took in the house, and I remembered Hazel as if she were right in front of me. Then the door opened, and she was. I was shocked. My hand came out and opened the door before I even knew what was happening.
I looked at her, and I swear on my life, my heart did a fucking flip at the same time my stomach sank and then rose again. My heart was going like a jackhammer, and there was nothing I could have done to stop it. She was so fucking gorgeous I couldn’t stop the smile from coming to my face. Her hair was tied up on top of her head, and her jeans hugged her just like they did all those years ago. Trust me, I know. I spent a good month working side by side with her, carrying one of the gray plastic buckets to hide the hard-on I had for her.
"Why are you so quiet?" my father asks, and I turn back, playing that scene over and over again in my mind.
"Just thinking,” I say as he pulls up at my grandparents’ house.
He doesn’t push me as he gets out of the truck, and I follow him into the house. The smell of baking hits me right away as I make my way to the kitchen, where my grandmother is standing with fresh baked muffins in front of her. "Hey, Grandma,” I say, walking and bending to kiss her cheek.