Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“A little bit. I just needed some fresh air.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I sigh, gazing at the stars.
There’s something different about sitting on the deck at night and conversing with someone instead of doing it over the phone. Taking up space next to her and being honest and vulnerable is such a blessing. It’s validating and freeing, and for once, I’m not alone.
“I’ve spent the last year at a standstill,” I say, the words flowing easily. “Christopher’s car accident threw all of us for a loop, and I’d like to say that I’ve spent the months since making sure the boys are okay. But if I’m being honest, I’ve had to grieve too.”
Cricket touches my leg. “Of course you have, honey. I’d know you were lying if you said otherwise.”
I look at my cousin and smile softly. “I told Della today I wanted to have fun again. But it’s more than that. I want to feel alive again. You can have a fun night or weekend—and I want those too. But I also want to walk through my everyday life and feel like . . . me.”
“This makes me happy to hear.”
“It does?”
“Yeah. It does.” She pushes off and starts us swinging again. “I hoped coming home would give you some room to breathe again. You’ve had a lot on your plate.”
You’re telling me.
For the last thirteen months, I’ve spent every waking hour keeping a careful eye on the boys. I had to sort out Christopher’s estate since he left everything to me for safekeeping for the kids. And that, on top of watching out for the boys’ emotional well-being, has consumed me. Drowned me. It’s all depleted me in so many ways.
“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” I say. “I’ve spent much of my energy and spirit on other people, not that I’d have it any other way.” I drop my gaze to my feet. “But I’m ready to climb out of the trenches and live my life again. But . . .”
Cricket rubs her hands together and then blows into them.
“It’s not that cold,” I say, shaking my head.
“Maybe not for you.” She repeats the action and then drops her palms onto her lap. “Do you want me to give you permission?”
“Permission? For what?”
“You’ve spent this whole conversation trying to convince one of us, if not both, that you deserve to get back out there again.”
Oof.
“Gabby, it’s your life. You don’t need anyone’s confirmation or approval to live it however you want. And if Christopher were here, he’d say the very same thing.”
Even though she’s wrong—I wasn’t seeking her approval for anything—her words touch my heart.
“Thank you,” I say, fighting a lump in my throat.
Her eyes sparkle. “You’re very welcome. Now, can we go inside? Because I’m turning into a sheet of ice out here.”
“Wear a coat next time,” I say as we get to our feet.
But just before she steps into the kitchen, she pauses by the railing.
“What happened here?” she asks, her brows pulled taut.
My gaze flips to Jay’s house just as the light goes off.
The story is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite back the words before they can pass my lips.
Maybe it’s a story for another time. Maybe it’s a story I keep to myself. Either way, I don’t want to share it. Not yet.
I gesture for her to go inside. “Oh, nothing. It just broke this afternoon. I’m going to fix it tomorrow.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit ready.”
“Hey!”
We laugh as the door shuts behind us.
“I’m going to head home,” she says, continuing through the kitchen to the front door. “I just wanted to check on you. And I didn’t want to hear another thing about golf. Peter is on this golf kick, and it’s driving me batty.”
“Well, thanks for coming by. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She stops on the threshold. “Tomorrow is the first Saturday of the month.”
“Okay . . .”
“Della, our friend Scottie, and I all get together on the first Saturday of the month. We have cocktails at one of our houses at seven. This month, we’re at Della’s. So if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you there.”
“What if I can’t come?”
She laughs and makes her way down the sidewalk. “You can come, or I’ll come get you. You only have to go across the street. No excuses.”
It’s very matter-of-fact—a simple explanation to a question she deems a joke. Even though people demanding my time usually make me want to push back, this time, it feels nice.
“I’ll see you there,” I say just before she’s too far down the street to hear me.
Before I close the door, I glance to my left. I hope the darkness conceals my wide eyes at Jay’s shirtless figure across the way.
My gaze follows the lines of muscle down his back. The security light overhead illuminates him. He grabs something from the cab of his vehicle and then heads back to the house. But just as he reaches the garage, he looks my way.