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)
“Hey, are you okay?” he said, his brows knitting in concern. “What’s up, baby?”
“I’m going to do it,” I managed to say. “I’m going to do it.”
“Sit down,” Tris said, and I followed suit as he pulled out a bar stool and sat facing me. He reached out, grabbing one of my hands as we spoke. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m going to sell Dad’s house,” I said, nodding. “I am ready. And I want to start a life with you, even though it still makes me scared as hell to say it, because it feels way too good to be true.”
His brows went up. “You’re comfortable selling? Blue, you don’t have to do it so soon, like we talked about—”
“Sam is looking for a house,” I said. “Sam and Fox. And I can’t think of anyone better to have it.”
Realization spread over Tristan’s face. “That actually sounds like an incredible idea,” he said softly.
“Sure does,” I said. “I’m still going to be split up into a million pieces about it, but it feels right. It feels very right.”
Sam came around the corner behind the bar again, cutting me glances like he had been for the last half hour, uncharacteristically nervous. He’d removed the sweatshirt he’d been wearing and now was in a black tank top that said Two-Seater in all caps, with an arrow pointing toward his face and an arrow pointing down toward his crotch.
And all of a sudden, seeing that shirt on him at such a tense and emotional moment, something finally broke inside me. I laughed softly at first, and then I couldn’t control it, descending into a fit of laughter that made Tristan look at me like I was nuts, even as he laughed along with me.
“Baby, you really do need to get more sleep tonight,” Tristan said. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”
“I just know I’m making the right decision selling my house to a guy who wears shirts like that,” I said.
Tris looked over and saw it, shaking his head and smiling. “It’s perfect. And your dad would have cackled, too.”
“He really would have,” I said.
Tristan squeezed my hand. “You being in Colorado with me and my family sounds better than anything I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “Anything I’ve ever let myself want. And I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.”
I leaned over, catching him in a deep kiss. I loved that I could do this, right here in public, and know that he wanted it every bit as much as I did.
“Now, I’ve got to tell Sam before he pops like a damn bag of popcorn from all of his nervousness,” I said, eyeing him and seeing that he was still cutting me the same glances.
“He looks like those dogs who are all guilty because they rummaged through the trash or ate Grandma Esther’s cherry pie,” Tristan said. “Not something I knew Sam was capable of feeling.”
When Sam came back around my way, carrying a bucket full of ice to put in the front bin, I caught his eye, waving him over.
“Sam,” I said. “Could I get a summer harvest lager?”
He nodded once. “Sure thing, boss.”
“And,” I said, enjoying this moment just a little. “Could I also get your word, from your heart and soul and on Fox’s life, that you will take the best care of my old man’s house, see that it has a good second life, and… that you’ll make it your own, in whatever way that means?”
Sam paused, with the ice bucket in his hands, for a solid twenty seconds, just staring over at me with wide eyes.
“Do—do you—hah—do you mean—” he started to say, slowly setting the ice bucket down onto the ground.
My heart felt like it was being stretched to a new size. Like it was soaring, but that it would always have the ache of missing my dad, my old life, my entire time in Kansas somewhere deep inside. Right beside so much love.
But this was right.
I could do this. And Tristan had been the one to show me I was capable.
“I want you and Fox to have the house, Sam,” I said. “So long as you don’t knock it down and turn it into a cheap, modern Airbnb, it’s yours to buy and to love.”
Sam reached over and grabbed my hand on top of the bar. He had a deadly serious look in his eyes. “I solemnly swear, on my life and everyone’s in this bar, that the house will never be an Airbnb.”
I nodded once at him. “Then, just keep me updated on pictures of the ol’ place as you make it your own.”
I watched as a couple of actual tears broke off and streamed down Sam’s face. He paused again for a moment before letting out a whoop, a cheer, and he started bouncing up and down. “Yes!” he shouted, and as a couple more regulars walked through the front door, he beamed at them, welcoming them in and then telling them the good news.