Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“God, I forgot about that phase,” Shawn said from the driver’s seat, cutting me a glance.
My chest tightened and a little surge of guilt cut through my excitement. I didn’t want Shawn or any of my family to think of me as that person, anymore. I sure as hell didn’t live my life like I did as a teenager anymore, but most of their memories of me were from that time.
I still felt like I had so much to prove to my family, despite how kind they’d been during my last visit.
“Yeah,” I said. “I should have known Grandma would notice half of her gin was gone, even when I was a dumb sixteen-year-old.” If I couldn’t joke about my own past, how else could I move on from it?
“You were always smart, though, no matter how young and stupid you were,” Shawn said with a smile. “God knows I was dumb as a teenager, too.”
“Give me a break,” I said. “You were always perfect at school, had a bunch of friends, and made Mom and Dad happy.”
“I know that’s how it seemed on the outside,” Shawn said, his eyes barely visible past his glasses. “But everybody’s got their own stuff going on deep down.”
“Holy shit, look at that,” Jack interjected as we went around a bend and suddenly we had a clear sight of the river.
“There it is. That is our town’s namesake,” Shawn said. “Jade River. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
Jack was slack-jawed in a way I’d rarely seen him. The river did look particularly good right now, like a summer postcard example of how beautiful Colorado could be. The lightly flowing water was surrounded with green grass, wildflowers, and even greener trees. Butterflies floated along the banks. And, as if on cue, a deer and her doe walked along the opposite side of the bank, grazing.
I swore my heart could burst from seeing how much awe Jack had on his face. I hadn’t known if he’d hate every moment here in Colorado, just because it was the state that was taking me away from Kansas. But he clearly was open to it. I was pretty sure he loved it. And it made my heart swell with affection for him even more than it already had, by this point.
Five minutes later, Shawn pulled up the long gravel driveway to my parents’ house at the top of a hill. We got out and Jack seemed as awe-struck as ever, looking around at the surrounding thicket of pine and sloping mountain hills.
“The air feels different up here,” he said. “Fresher. It smells like pine and flowers and… weirdly, like berries?”
“That would be Mom making her blackberry crumble inside,” Shawn said with a smile. “But the air really does feel different up here. Be careful with alcohol at this elevation. It’ll hit you harder.”
“Oh, that’s a myth,” I said, waving a hand.
“I don’t think it is,” Shawn said. “Either way, Dad is going to be very giving with his liquor, and my parents don’t usually drink much, but they definitely do when they’re entertaining. They like to have a good time.”
“I already feel half-drunk just looking around at all this natural beauty,” Jack said. “You can see the edge of the river from up here.”
“We can go check it out down there tomorrow morning,” I offered, trying to hold back the ridiculous levels of excitement bubbling up inside me. “There are so many good camping spots up here. It’s nutty, Blue. If we lived here we’d be able to find a new camping spot every damn weekend if we wanted.”
The words had tumbled out of my mouth without thinking, but I realized what I’d said: if we lived here.
Quit it with the wishful thinking, I scolded myself in my head. I had to live my best life, for me. I knew I was going to miss Jack like hell, but he was a Kansas boy, and best friends didn’t normally move states together in pairs.
That was something that couples did.
And we aren’t a couple, I told myself. I knew I was definitely just way too excited with Jack visiting my hometown.
Chill. Out.
7
JACK
Both Tristan and Shawn had warned me that their parents were in full-blown visitor mode, but walking into the Wood household—which, incidentally, was mostly made out of wood—was a whole experience of its own.
“You made it!” Tristan’s mom said after we’d hauled our suitcases into the entryway and kicked off our shoes. She peeked her head out from around the corner that must have led to the kitchen, because her hands were coated in some sort of sticky-looking dough as she beamed out at us. “Oh come here,” she said, coming to me.
She wrapped her arms around me in a hug, carefully making sure to not touch me with her dough-coated hands. “What a pleasure it is to meet you, Jack. I’m Jolene. But don’t you dare mention that Dolly Parton song, and please, call me Jo instead. Or Momma Jo, like Tris does sometimes.”