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)
Me: She’s fine. I text back.
What about you? Are you fine? - Heston
My fingers hesitate over the screen, a man asking me how I feel is a new to me. Cam never asked or cared. It’s also peculiar that this guy, Heston, is so okay with everything that happened today. Shaking my head, I reply back.
Me: Better, not so shaken up. Thanks for asking. Are you okay? I don’t want to be rude; he’s checking on me and my daughter, and he did give us a ride to the hospital.
Heston: I just wanted to check on you guys. I feel terrible. My brows furrow with apprehension. Why is he so concerned? I would think he would be frustrated, and pray to the gods that his insurance doesn’t rise through the roof.
Me: Why?
Heston: I want to get to know you.
Biting my bottom lip, I stare at his last text. It seems a little forward… kind of weird too. Do Paige and I seem that interesting? I don’t know how I feel about this.
“Dad’s here,” Paige murmurs. I lock the screen to my phone and look up. There he is, my ex-husband, with his big and boisterous self. He glares at me with the same beady eyes he did not so long ago.
Whispering under my breath, “here we go,” I prepare myself for another round of fighting. It’s what we’re good at.
2
Two weeks later
After the wreck, and having to listen to my ex-husband yell at me over the accident and the cut on Paige’s face that wasn’t my fault, we missed the movers. They couldn’t redeliver for two weeks because they were down a driver, putting me and Paige in a hotel to the new house. Cam didn’t even offer for us to stay with him, I’m not surprised. We’re finally moving into the house today, but she’s currently with her dad, so I’m left unpacking most of our things by myself. Our new place is bigger than our apartment and has more space than I know what to do with. It’s two stories: gray siding with white panels. It’s hard to stay inside and unpack when all I want to do is smell the fresh cut grass, and flowers. Walking outside, a cup of coffee in hand, I can’t help but scout the porch and yard. It’s bare of anything but a concrete walkway. Even then, the grass creeps over the edges like skeleton hands wanting to take it into the deep dark soil. Patches of the yard are discolored from the sun, weeds popping up like acne everywhere. The yard has been long abandoned of any care.
I look at the house beside me, its lapis-colored door matching the pots filled with beautiful blue flowers. The next house has a red front door, an abundance of crimson roses lining the property. Then yellow, green…every door is a different color. I look back at my house.
Black.
My nose scrunches up.
Despair. Darkness. Rebellion.
All things I don’t want for our fresh start. This is the other side, where the grass is greener and everything is supposed to be brighter.
First thing I’m doing is painting the damn door. But what color? I’ll have to see if Paige has any ideas. Drinking the last of my coffee, I step into the house. The fresh smell of paint and balmy coolness from the air-conditioner settles on my skin. Our old place above the Chinese restaurant barely kept us cool with an added window unit. I remember Mom covering the windows with vibrant-colored throws to mask the heat from making the place hotter. Reds, oranges, yellows. You couldn’t miss our apartment when you walked around the corner.
My phone dings from beside the boxes on the floor. Sitting back down in the circle of chaos, I grab it and unlock the screen.
Heston: So, are you settled in?
He’s been texting me here and there, just small talk. The crash has turned us into little pen pals, and the interaction is nice. At least I have someone to talk to. He has a sense of humor, and even though he’s kind of an ass, there’s a touch of softness to him. Or maybe the cracks of loneliness from my mother being gone has me longing for anyone to fill the void.
He asked me to go to lunch with him yesterday, but I don’t date. I wouldn’t know how to act or what to say. I just want us to stay like we are, blindly talking from our sides of the world.
Me: Almost.
Heston: I wish I could see you.
My heart stutters, the feeling reminding me of missing a step and almost falling on my face. The only difference is, I can’t help but smile. His charm makes my heart warm. What should I say back? Something just as sweet? I shake my head. No. I don’t want him to think I’m the girl who falls heads over heels for a man because he’s persistent and nice.