Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I couldn’t argue with her. It was indeed my job, and honestly, a story like that could put me on the right path. Making a note to look into this Adams character, I listened to her talk about the rest of the townspeople, including my father, before hanging up. I checked my email again, grimacing when I saw a response from my boss.
If you weren’t needed, I wouldn’t have sent you there. Or bothered to email you. We can discuss this further when you return.
Fantastic. Now I had two things to look forward to when I got back to the States. The new mystery man in Ashford and a pep talk from my boss. I kicked my shoes off, changing into something more comfortable. What would happen if I turned in my notice? Would it be that bad? I had some savings, and I could pick up some freelancing gigs. I was sure my parents would let me stay with them until I got back on my feet.
Opening the blinds, allowing what was left of the sun to stream into the room, I watched the city pass me by ten floors below. I wondered if Simon was out there somewhere or settled inside for the night. He’d told me his wife passed away several years ago. They’d never had children, and as the youngest of three siblings, he was the only one still alive.
Groaning, I decided my mother was probably right. I needed to either work on my relationship skills or adopt a few cats and call it a day. Adding that to the mental to-do list I kept locked in my head, I grabbed a book and read for the rest of the night.
2
LANDON
The refrigerator was empty save for a bottle of water, and the cabinets weren’t much better. I didn’t know why I’d even looked. I hadn’t stocked up when I moved in. The choice had been made on purpose, knowing I would be forced to go into town sooner or later. Glancing at the keys on the hook by the front door, I ran my hand down my face, sighing. The time had come, and I’d put it off one too many times already. The four walls of the cabin I had rented had quickly become a safe space. But after twelve days, even my safe space was starting to close in on me.
The floor creaked with every other step as I walked across the wooden slats on bare feet. I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, along with the last packet of oatmeal. The whir of the microwave was the only sound in the small space other than my breathing. As I waited for the oatmeal to heat, I watched two deer running through the woods just outside my window.
A blinding pain split my forehead just then, a by-product of my accident ten years ago. The accident that had changed everything. I grounded myself, holding on to the edge of the counter, riding the waves of pain until they subsided. The doctors had prescribed medication, but it made me feel fuzzy, dampening my creativity. Not that it mattered since I hadn’t written a word since that fateful night anyway. The beeping of the microwave caused me to jump, banging a knee against the bottom cabinets. Damn, that hurt.
I felt much older than my thirty-six years. The accident had inflicted permanent damage in the form of arthritis in my joints, a constant aching in my lower back, and the aforementioned pain in my head. I was certainly living the furthest thing from my best life. The rickety chair groaned as I sat down and placed the bowl on the table.
Looking around the cabin, it was perfect for me. Nothing too big, everything within eyesight. The only rooms not open to the living and kitchen areas were the bedroom and bathroom, and they were just off the main space.
I’d moved to Ashford for a new start, for inspiration to write again. I doubted I would find inspiration if I stayed cooped up inside all the time. No. I needed to go into town. Spooning sugar into the oatmeal, I let my mind wander to the way my life used to be, before the accident. It wasn’t a path I took very often; there wasn’t any need other than to torture myself. I did what I did, and now I’d pay for it for the rest of my life. I wasn’t looking for pity—just stating the facts. I was aware it sounded dramatic.
My phone pinged, alerting me to a text. I had half a mind to ignore it, but I was also fairly certain who it was, and she wouldn’t stop until I answered. The chair screeched against the floor as I pushed it back. I’d left the phone on the charger in my bedroom. By the time I picked it up, there were three more messages waiting for me, all from Shelby. It amazed me she still tried after all this time. One would think she would have given up a long time ago.