Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
And if I’d never met Tyler, I wouldn’t hesitate to invite Steve to Sunday dinner. Maybe I would’ve already invited him into my home, into my bed.
Maybe I’d be thinking about a future with him.
But the only future I’m able to see anymore has a hazel-eyed man with a crooked smirk in it.
“Well, if you guys decide you can’t resolve your issues, give me a call.” He smiles, but it lacks its usual warmth, and I can’t say I blame him. He looks to the Ale House, to where his friends are. “I guess I’ll give you a ride home, unless you wanted to stay longer?”
The last thing I want to do is go back into the Ale House, especially now that Tyler is gone. But the fifteen-minute ride home with Steve after this sounds even less appealing.
“I’ve got ya, Lehr,” Jonah hollers, keys dangling from his fingers.
And my shoulders slump with relief.
Steve hesitates.
“It’s okay. Go back and see your friends.”
After another moment’s hesitation and a lingering look—I’m sure this is not how he saw the night ending—Steve casts a wave and heads back inside.
Five minutes later, once Jonah’s told Calla that he’s driving me home, I’m climbing into the passenger’s seat of his truck.
“Marie …” He shakes his head as he cranks the engine and throws the truck into gear.
I chuckle. “Let me guess. I’m too much drama.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know.” I curl my arms around myself for comfort. “I know what I want to do.”
“But you’re scared of getting hurt.”
“I’m scared of getting hurt again.”
And again.
And again.
What does Tyler even expect? He said he will be ready. Does that mean I’m supposed to sit home alone and wait for his call?
The truck’s powerful engine roars along the dark highway toward my house. Jonah’s only ever had one speed for as long as I’ve known him: fast. “Remember after Calla flew back to Toronto? She told me she couldn’t stay, and I accepted it, and I was fucking miserable. For months. And then you sent me the flight information to Toronto and told me to get on the plane already?”
I smile. “Yeah. I remember.” The hardest—and best—thing I could have done for him both as his friend and someone who loved him dearly.
“If you hadn’t given me that kick in the ass that I needed …” He grimaces as he watches the road ahead.
“You would have gone, eventually.” Jonah has never been afraid of taking a chance.
“Maybe.” He drums the steering wheel with his thumbs—a tell that means he’s in deep thought. “I don’t know what all happened with you two because you haven’t been talking to me—” He shoots a glare my way. “But it’s pretty damn obvious you both want this to work, and you just don’t know how. Don’t waste your time with guys like Steve. I know you, Mare. I know what you want, and he ain’t it.”
“I guess not.” Steve was convenient and easy, but he wasn’t it. I want it all. Consuming passion and camaraderie, laughter and strength, hope and comfort.
It exists. I’ve seen it every time I look at Jonah and Calla.
And maybe I can have it for myself, too.
My heart flutters with the thought.
“Okay, so, this is me now, telling you to grow a spine and get on the fucking plane already. Because what I saw back there? That was a guy who meant whatever he was saying to you. And if he dicks you around again?” He gives me a serious look. “I know all the best spots to drop a body where it’ll never be found.”
I study Jonah’s profile within the shadows of the truck, and my heart aches, not with longing for what I wish I’d had with him, but with pure gratitude for what I do have—loyal and uncompromising friendship. “I am so happy for you.”
“I know you are.” His eyes dart from the road for a split second, long enough to meet mine. He reaches across the console to squeeze my hand. “Now, do something that will make me happy for you. Go and get your dog man.”
Our deep laughter fills his truck.
* * *
My fists curl tightly around my steering wheel, not because the road ahead is pitch-black beyond my headlights, and not because my tires catch the odd icy patch.
And definitely not because I’m doubting this decision.
In my gut and my heart and my head, I know Tyler is the one for me, even if our path here hasn’t been simple. Even if the path forward proves bumpy.
I ease up to Tyler’s driveway and consider the gate across it, pulled closed. It’s late, but they couldn’t have made it home too long ago. I reach for my phone but pause.
With a grin, I throw my truck in reverse.
And then slam my foot on the gas pedal.