Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
“Please,” Delaney mumbled, trying not to sound totally fucking pitiful. As if she needed more reminders that she had been a trash friend.
“I’ll send a couple,” Gracen assured, still not seeming bothered. “We want to get married in the late spring—here on the Flats.”
Delaney dragged in a shaky breath that she held inside her chest until the air burned in her lungs. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from letting it all out to say, “I’m definitely going to have to come home for that, huh?”
“I do need a maid of honor.”
Yes, she did. It should be Delaney. Like they’d always planned from the time they were teenagers.
“I’m gonna be home for that,” Delaney said.
“Just … don’t make promises, okay? I understand that coming back here isn’t easy for you, but it’s harder to make sense of it when you say one thing and willingly do another.”
“I get it, Gracen.”
A sigh crackled over the phone before Gracen asked, “You’re just heading into work, right?”
Even from three hours away with only phone calls and texts throughout the week to keep their line of communication open, Gracen fit Delaney into her life in small ways. Like remembering her odd work schedule that wasn’t like the typical salon’s nine-to-five.
“Yeah, and almost late,” Delaney added, not hiding her annoyance. “It’s half my fault, but partly Bexley’s, too. I polished off what I had left of wine, fell asleep, and didn’t wake up until my last alarm.”
Gracen’s light laugh filtered through the speakers. “Let me guess, Bexley didn’t wake up, either?”
“I didn’t even see her before my head hit the pillow last night. She was out somewhere. I dragged her out of bed as I was heading out the door. Who even knows if she made her first class?”
Gracen laughed again.
Delaney didn’t excuse Bexley’s weekend behavior, but she didn’t step in to stop it. Friends. Drinking. Being young. Even if the girl wasn’t of legal age yet to get in the bars, she managed it. Alongside her friends, too.
She let her cousin live if only because now was the perfect time for Bexley to do so. It often meant she didn’t see her younger cousin on the weekends because throughout the week, her nose was stuck in books. She had one year left on her nursing degree before the real world would come and knock Bexley on her ass.
Like it did for everyone.
“She’s lucky you’re around to keep her on track,” Gracen said. “So, who’s doing that for you?”
Great.
Someone else had to jump on that train again. Nobody had time for that.
Delaney liked it better when no one had a clue about her problems, or the sad state of her life. As lonely as it currently happened to be. “Listen,” she said to Gracen, “I’ve got two minutes to get inside the salon before Linda calls someone to fill my chair.”
A lie.
She was on time, in the lot, and visible to her boss through the salon’s windows below the glowing sign showcasing the business. Styled Cuts - Unisex.
Classy, really.
The job was a step down from the salon she had once owned alongside Gracen, but the three-hundred dollar a month chair rental couldn’t be beat, she had four twelve-hour slots a week with her name on it and then a four day stretch of off time to do with what she wanted. The owner switched out stylists on the four day rotation to get double her bang out of the chairs, but Delaney didn’t mind because it worked for her.
She made good money, could pay her monthly rental in a day’s work with the right clients, and didn’t have to think too hard to do it. She didn’t have to invest emotional energy into something someone might take from her one day, and she didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with a salon like it was a business anymore.
Not after everything …
Thankfully, Gracen didn’t call Delaney on her bullshit. Apparently, all she really wanted to do was check in on her friend. Like she did on many other mornings.
“Call me for anything, okay?” Gracen asked before Delaney ended the call.
“Yeah, you know I will.”
“Yeah,” her friend echoed, “I guess.”
What she didn’t say that was still clear between them both?
But you don’t.
Not anymore.
Luckily—if only for the moment because Delaney didn’t want to deal with her feelings—she didn’t have the time to think about her inability to be the best friend Gracen needed and deserved. As soon as she ended the call with Gracen, she found a text waiting from her boss.
Whenever you’re done in the parking lot, there’s a client in your chair. You’re welcome. He’s cute.
Fucking perfect.
Just what she needed.
Chapter 2
The man she found waiting in her chair was cute. At least, Linda could pick a good-looking face out of the crowd. The guy, with shoulders broader than the barber chair he sat in, preoccupied himself with whatever was in his hands—his phone, maybe?— and his dark-haired head remained down while he waited. He didn’t notice Delaney enter the salon, despite the bell chiming overhead at her entrance or the woman at the back manning the cash register behind the reception counter pointing his way.