Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Just some assholes banging on my truck window. They’re lost without me.”
“Are you their boss?”
“Nope. Just the only one who knows what to do.”
“Ah, gotcha. Well, I’ll see you in eight days.”
“Eight of the longest days of my life.”
I press a hand to my mouth to hold my squeal.
A dog barks.
With a deep breath, I regain my composure. Barely. “Do you take Scrot to work with you?”
“Of course. At least when I can.”
I don’t know why this makes me happy, but it does. “I love that. Well, see ya.”
He hums. It’s deep and sexy. Is he slowly killing me on purpose? “Bye, Scottie.”
I end the call and pull my shirt away from my skin to keep from overheating as the young woman who just came into the store reads the label of a bag of soup mix. Then, another customer comes through the door, and the rest of my afternoon turns into a steady flow of customers.
A few minutes before five, Price steps into the store. There’s something different about him, more than just the long span of years we’ve been apart. I can’t put my finger on it. When I’m with him, I have this urge to hug him and never let go. He’s a man who needs an eternal hug. That wasn’t the Price I met in Philadelphia. And I never thought I would see him again. There are so many things I want to say, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell them.
“Hi. Are you feeling okay?” I stare at him while stacking clean glasses on the shelf above the soda fountain.
He draws in a long breath and holds it while smiling. “Just nervous about my new job.”
“I believe everything you’ve done in life until this point has prepared you for this. All that hard work is about to pay off.”
Price’s raised eyebrows don’t seem convinced, but he manages a smile while averting his gaze to the display of crystal necklaces and bracelets.
I stack the last glass and retrieve a bracelet from the rack. “I make these.”
Price eyes me with surprise, or maybe it’s wonder in his eyes.
“This one,” I slide the bracelet onto his wrist, “has selenite, which has cleansing properties, strengthens immunity, and helps protect you from losing control.”
Price stiffens, gaze shifting to mine as I tighten the strings on the bracelet.
“Rose quartz for self-love, fluorite to replace negative energy with positive energy, and citrine for courage.”
He swallows hard. “I fear you think I need a lot of help.”
Holding his gaze for several silent seconds, I smile. “It is I who needs help. So let’s get you trained.”
Price pulls cash from his front pocket.
“Nope. It’s a gift. Wear it every day. That’s all the thanks I need. And when people ask you where you got it, send them my way.”
He stares at the bracelet with a heartbreakingly somber expression, whispering, “Thank you.”
Over the next two hours, I teach him how to make the sodas, malts, and sundaes and form a perfectly round scoop of ice cream to fit atop the sugar cones. Then I offer a tutorial on the cash register and finish his training by mopping the floor. I feel his gaze when I’m focused on showing him something. It’s like the night Koen came into the store, repeatedly inspecting me when he didn’t think I was looking.
“I won’t make you close up yet. I’ll be sure I’m here by eight to do that.” I return the mop to the back room.
“You don’t trust me with a key? Or you have to ask your boss?” he asks, resting his shoulder against the doorframe while I wheel the mop bucket into the corner by the broom.
Wiping my hands on my jeans, I glance up at him. “Neither. I just don’t want to overwhelm you.”
“The soda fountain overwhelmed me.”
I smirk. “As I recall, you mixed drinks like a seasoned bartender, trying to get a nineteen-year-old girl drunk. I don’t believe sodas overwhelm you. There’s a cheat sheet.”
When I reach the doorway, he doesn’t move but fiddles with his bracelet.
“You conquered the world, didn’t you?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Why do you think that?”
“Because you look like a man who conquered the world.”
He grunts. “I look like shit.”
“You look like someone who trained for months to run a marathon, then collapsed at the finish line.”
He seems to give it some thought before nodding several times.
“Well, I didn’t conquer the world. In fact, I don’t own this store or that trailer because I don’t need much.”
“To be happy?”
“To live.”
A tiny crease forms along the bridge of his nose. “It’s almost too simple,” he whispers as if his words aren’t meant for me.
“Price, I just wanna be here. I want to breathe the air, eat the food, converse with people, gaze at mountains, and dive into oceans. Make love. Watch movies that make me laugh until I nearly wet myself. Read books that tear out my heart. I want to live. Happiness is an emotion, a state of mind. But humans are not static. We’re constantly evolving, and our emotions shift without warning. The question is: What do you need to feel like you’re living?”