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)
She deposits seeds into each bowl and uses the spoon to cut the banana. I love watching her do things. Her soothing motions and gracefulness have stuck with me all these years. I could watch her do anything, and it would lull me into a peaceful state.
“Can we eat on your sofa?”
I look back at the sofa as if I forgot I had one. “Sure.”
Scottie plops into the corner with her feet tucked beneath her. “So I had something really embarrassing happen to me yesterday.” She takes a bite of fruit and grins while chewing it.
I don’t care what happened. As long as it keeps that grin on her face, that’s all that matters.
“At the store?”
She shakes her head and swallows. “After the shop closed, I walked with a friend and his dog. We played fetch in the park, which can be tricky at night because the park isn’t well-lit, but he had a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee. I became a little obsessed with trying to catch the Frisbee before the dog, and on the last throw, he tossed it in a different direction to give me a head start. Then he yelled for me to stop, but I was already airborne to catch the Frisbee, and I landed in a pond.”
God. She’s so beautiful.
I laugh because it’s funny, but also because her laughter is contagious.
She shakes in a fit of giggles. “B-but I caught it.”
I try to swallow but nearly choke as I picture her landing in the pond. “That’s all that matters.”
She tells me the rest of the story with animated expressions that captivate me, like everything else about her. By the end, she has tears streaming down her face, and I’m not far off.
I wonder if this guy, her friend, knows how lucky he is to experience absolutely anything with her. Countless memories of our summer together have permanent space in my mind.
Those memories are why I’m in Austin.
When the laughter dies, we start to speak at the same time. And we say the exact same words. “Remember when we—”
I grin. “You go first.”
“Remember when we planned that outdoor surprise party for your dad, which ended in a torrential downpour?”
I nod. And we spend the next two hours reminiscing. She has no idea how much she’s influenced my life.
“I should go. I’m sure you’re exhausted,” she says.
I stifle my yawn, but her frown confirms she doesn’t miss it.
“I’ll report for five o’clock duty tomorrow. Do you think I’m ready?” I ask, walking her to the door.
“Of course. You rise to every occasion like a phoenix in the Arabian Desert.”
With a chuckle, I open the door.
She slips her feet into her shoes. “This was fun.”
I rub my arms as the cool breeze barges into the entry. “It was.”
She presses her lips together and eyes me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s waiting for me to kiss her goodnight. But I do know better.
At least, I think I do.
While I ponder the idea, which is a bad one, she steps toward me and wraps her arms around my neck, lips at my ear. “Goodnight,” she whispers.
“Goodnight.” I gently wrap my arms around her.
Scottie’s hands cup my neck, and she kisses my cheek.
In the next breath, she’s out the door and hustling to her red truck in the driveway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IF THE TRUTH IS A DEALBREAKER, THEN LET IT BREAK.
Scottie
“House of Chaos, how can I direct your call?” My sister answers her phone.
I laugh. “Hey, Steph.”
“Please tell me you’re calling because you’re visiting Asheville, and by visiting, I mean coming to babysit while I have a spa day.”
“I’m pretty sure when you were pregnant with Winnie, you said three kids can’t be that much harder than two.”
“I was wrong. There. Are you happy? Three kids—three girls—under six is the definition of an early mid-life crisis.”
“Is it a bad time? I don’t want you to lose one of my nieces because I’m distracting you.”
She sighs. “Winnie’s still sleeping, and Avery and Mable are eating breakfast. I have maybe ten minutes of calm before the next storm. Tell me something exciting. Let me live vicariously through you. And if you don’t have anything, make something up.”
I open my glass jar of overnight oats and sit at my table. “Oh, I have quite the update for you. Guess who showed up at the store?”
“I slept three hours last night and said I have ten minutes tops. No time for guessing.”
“Fine. You’re no fun. Price Milloy.”
Silence.
I’m not sure if she heard me or if she’s still on the line.
“Steph?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. I know you gave me the option to make something up, but I’m not making this up. He lives in Austin. No job. No family. And something’s really off about him. I can’t explain it, but it’s a feeling. Kind of a dark feeling.”
“Like he’s up to something?”