Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
She shakes her head. “Actually, I kind of want to do this on my own,” she says, then gives me an apologetic smile. “I should go.” She pauses, frowning, looking like she wants to say something more. After a beat, she exhales. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re too hard on yourself. I really do, and there are a ton of things I want to say.” Her voice is laced with emotion, but her gaze strays to the clock on the wall even as her eyes shine. “I have to go.”
But what do you have to say?
The desire to hear those ton of things claws at me, like a wild beast let loose in my chest, but I have to give her space.
She heads to the door and I watch her leave, strangely impressed by her gumption, and her guts.
I want to chase after her. I want to insist she lets me drive her. But I flash back to what she said the other night—that she was a lot.
To how she felt I’d kept saving her, like I did on the first night, then less than a week later. I get it. Some things you have to do on your own. You have to save yourself.
She closes the door and leaves.
I wander aimlessly, a lost kid at the zoo. But a few minutes later, my phone rings. Maybe it’s her. Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe I can go pick her up on the corner at the bus stop.
I’m about to say all that when Natalie’s name flashes on the screen. I answer it, a little defeated. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“Listen. I need to know, are you going to Frieda’s for Christmas?” That’s where Dad is hosting this year—with his girlfriend.
I groan. “I tried to pretend that isn’t happening.”
“But it is happening. And Lila and I want to know if we should go.”
That’s her girlfriend. “You two should go,” I say dryly.
“What we’re trying to say is we want to go if you’re there.”
But I want to go to Christian’s with Josie—if she’ll have me. “I don’t know if I will be.”
“What’s wrong, Wes?”
My sister’s the one person who understands me completely, so I say, “I had a couple bad games. I was pretty distracted, and at first I thought it was because of Josie.”
“Wes,” she says kindly. “Do you think maybe the pressure isn’t Josie, but Dad?”
I don’t move. I don’t say a word. I stand in the kitchen with a simple and obvious truth.
She was never the distraction.
“You’re right,” I say to my sister, then end the call, my mind spinning over this revelation.
I have to tell Josie right away. Trouble is, I won’t be the complication in her life. Not today. Not when she’s worked so hard to achieve her dreams.
But I can leave her a letter because I finally know what I want to say.
I head into her room, grab her notepad of blue paper, and bring it back to the kitchen. I write her a short letter and leave it on the counter. She’ll find it when she comes home from work.
When I return the notepad to her room, I catch sight of the list sticking out of the blank book. I take one step toward it. Then another. It’s a tractor beam pulling me closer. I’m so tempted to look. I reach out a hand, my fingers itching.
I’m dying to find out what she’s crossed off without me.
But I stop, close my eyes, and shake it off. Then I open them and I tear myself away from her room, shutting the door.
I don’t have to see the list to know she’s crossed off more items. The question is—how many?
I take a yoga class, grab some lunch with the guys, and go to the animal rescue and volunteer. All day, I count off the hours till she comes home. Till I can apologize. Till she finds this letter, and I can talk to her and try to figure us out. But the day moves too slowly. The hands on the clock trudge by. I’m convinced her work will never end. Around four, I wander around the house. It’s eerie and dark since it’s late December. My footsteps creak on the floorboards, and I’m painfully aware that she’s not here.
And I’m just…waiting.
What is wrong with me? In hockey, you don’t wait. You do.
Spurred by a burst of adrenaline, I run upstairs, change into a nice shirt and jeans, and race to the garage. I can wait outside the library. Surprise her with a ride home. Be the guy who’s leaning against his car, ready to pick up his woman and celebrate her successes.
I hightail it to the library with the letter in the passenger seat. I park in the tiny lot. But when five o’clock ticks by, she doesn’t emerge from the main doors. With nerves strung tight, I march inside, looking for her and finding Thalia. “Hey, is Josie here?”