Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“I was thinking apple.” I shrug.
“No, do cherry. Trust me.” His tone takes on a sharper note, and I can’t help but furrow my brows. “I’ll look into it.”
He smiles, pleased by my response, and then drops his hands to his sides. Not sure what that was all about, I shake my head and change the subject. “How was last night?”
A sly smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, and I can’t help but reciprocate. “Amazing.”
I laugh, heat blooming across my cheeks. Having him in my bed, with his arms wrapped around me, made me feel whole, safe, secure—things I haven’t felt in way too long.
He grabs his cup of coffee from the counter, and with his phone in his other hand, he winces and looks up at me.
“I gotta head out. I have a house to show this afternoon. Can I come by after I’m done?” I roll my lips, contemplating. If I say yes too fast, he’ll think I have nothing better to do than wait on him—which you don’t want a guy to think because he’ll freak out and think you’re moving too fast or are clingy—thank you, Cosmo magazine, at the checkout line. But if I say no, it could really put us back in our relationship, and I don’t want that either. I like having him here. His company soothes me, making me feel less alone.
“Yeah. If you feel up to it, come on by,” I answer, my voice relaxed and casual. He takes a sip of his hot brew while looking over the black ceramic at me. Swallowing, he places the cup in the sink and asks, “Will Paige be here?”
“Yeah. Cam usually drops her off before dinner.” Usually. There were a few times I had to go get her because he didn’t feel like it.
“Nice. She’s a good kid, you know? Having her here makes the house feel…full, like an actual family.” He stops at the door, his jaw tight, eyes serious. “Family is what shapes a person into who they become as an adult.” His right brow rises. His Adam’s apple bobs. He’s telling me so much without telling me, yet I can’t read between the lines. Something life changing happened to his family that much is clear; I just wish I knew what it was.
“Yeah,” my voice cracks, “family is everything.” I couldn’t agree more as I think about my mom and how she had always been there for me.
“All right, I’m off,” he states, his tone back to normal. With a wink, he shuts the door behind him.
Two hours, one shower, and a muffin later, I look at my shrubs. Some petals lie on the ground, dry mud creating a cast over them.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. Bending down, I hold one of the flowers in my palm. It took a beating, bit beneath the mud, it’s still bright pink and full of life. No matter the storm, it made it through and will grow into something stronger. Kind of like me, I’ve swam the waters of abuse and grief but I’ve come out on the other side where love and friendship surround me.
My head lifts at the rev of a loud motor barreling down the street. The hairs on my arm lift, and my stomach drops. Standing, I wipe my hands on my jean shorts and start walking around the white fence to meet Cam. He parks at the curb and shuts off the engine. The passenger door opens first, and Paige’s Converse hit the ground. She shuts the door, sees me, and instantly smiles. The sick feeling I had vanishes. Just seeing her makes everything else seem small and redundant. She’s the one thing I’ve done right. She has her hair in Dutch braids, a tie dye shirt on with some boyfriend looking jeans on.
“Hey, baby!” I shout with a grin. She walks right up to me, and I hug her tight, missing her.
“Hi, Mom,” she mumbles into my arm, and I realize I’m suffocating her as well as embarrassing her.
Letting go, I say, “Check out the flowers I picked out.” I point toward the door, and she walks over to look at them.
“Where’s your boy toy? Get enough of you after one night?” Cam’s rancid voice has me slowly looking in his direction. Hatred rattles in my chest, trying to block his insult, my heart already dented and scarred from his never-ending harassment. His mental attacks are unmatched. He’s a ghost I can’t lock behind any door. Reaching up, he tugs his red ballcap down on his head a little tighter, and I can’t help but notice his dirty shirt and ripped jeans. He sticks out here, looking like a man clinging to his high-school days. Not to mention, his loud ass truck and the cowboy attitude he brought with him yesterday.