Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
You can do this. It’s time.
I helped myself to a cup of coffee, sipping tentatively at the scalding liquid. All the seats were taken, but Easton and I stood against the back wall, watching as the community members chatted and laughed, enjoying each other.
You can be part of this. That hope soared in my chest again, and yes, fear accompanied it, but wouldn’t that always be the case? Easton was right. I couldn’t wait for the doubt to disappear entirely because that might never happen. I had to make the choice to embrace it and lean in to what I wanted despite the worry.
I deserved to have dreams.
And how would they ever come true if I wasn’t willing to stop, face my past, and then move on, unencumbered, into my future?
And I wouldn’t be doing it alone.
My heart gave a jolt and then soared as Travis came into view, standing near the low stage, taking a stack of papers from a younger man who was also wearing a police uniform. Travis took a portion of the stack of papers off the top and handed them to a short, slender woman with a brunette bob who began handing them to the people at the end of each row to pass down to the others.
For several minutes I simply watched him in his element, listening as people passed by and said a word or two, laughing along with them, squeezing one man’s shoulder and patting him on the back as he gave Travis a grateful look and walked away.
Give us a chance, Haven.
Yes. Yes.
The man next to him—the young cop with the buzz cut—elbowed Travis and leaned in, speaking in a hurried manner. Travis froze, frowning, glancing down at the papers in his hand for several seconds, squinting, holding it away slightly, and then blinking in what looked like confusion, before his head shot up and he met my eyes. The young cop was staring at me too and even from the distance, I saw his throat move in a swallow.
Travis stared in shock as I bit my lip, shy, happy, and hoping to God he understood why I’d come. Vulnerability made me feel breakable, shaky, and yet that hope continued to flutter inside.
I’m going to stay.
I saw him take in a quickened breath, his expression morphing into…horror.
My heart dipped and distractedly I took the papers that had made it to us, handing one to Easton as well.
Why was Travis looking at me like that? A buzz started in the back of my head. Was he not glad I was here? A tremor took up inside me, those excited nerves taking a sudden nosedive.
“Oh God,” I heard Easton say, his voice choked.
I glanced at him to see he’d started to read the flyer we’d been handed and, confused, looked down at my own, everything inside me going frigid as I saw what it said, my heart plunging lower and lower as I read.
The newly formed community relations committee, along with the Pelion Police Department, will be putting out this monthly bulletin in an effort to protect the safety, well-being, and happiness of our fellow citizens. It has come to our attention that a seasonal employee of the Calliope Golf and Tennis Club has hurt and disrespected our very own chief of police. For that reason, Easton and Haven Torres are listed on this edition of PELION’S MOST UNWANTED. Encourage these individuals to move on from our close-knit community as quickly as possible. When one citizen is hurt by an outsider, all citizens are hurt. Pelion is a family-friendly town, and the community relations committee vets all residents, both permanent and temporary.
And there were pictures of us below the caption, photos I recognized as ones Easton had posted on social media, only blown-up and made into close-ups of our faces.
A small strangled sound came from my throat as I felt eyes turning toward us.
These individuals.
I kept reading. I couldn’t stop. I was glued to my spot, unable to lift my head, my eyes refusing to stop taking in line after line after line of Easton’s exploits and my own enabling of his behavior. All the destruction left in our wake. Arrests, divorce filings, public altercations.
“How did they…how did they…” I choked.
“My social media,” Easton said, and his voice sounded flat, devoid of emotion. “I’ve posted from every community we’ve stopped in since the day we left LA.”
I felt numb, confused, sick with distress, my mind reeling with how much work had gone into compiling a list like this. I felt all the eyes on me. Judging.
Most unwanted.
Most unwanted.
Most unwanted.
Some of the information was mostly accurate, and some was wildly off-base. Not that it mattered. Whoever had done this had put in a lot of time and much effort contacting local townships from California to Maine.