Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
But I couldn’t say that I was excited to move to Shane’s, either. The house in Oceanside wasn’t mine. I was staying there, like a long-term houseguest, and even though Shane wouldn’t be there to watch my every move, I was still a little on edge about it. That was Shane’s house…Rachel’s house. It hadn’t changed much in the year since she’d died. When I was there to keep the kids, that fact hadn’t really bothered me. I had my own space to come home to—my own little sanctuary that was filled with my things and decorated the way I liked.
I wouldn’t have that anymore. I’d be living in someone else’s home. In someone else’s life.
At least Shane had kept his tantrums to a minimum since our little interlude in his bedroom a week or two before. God, that had turned out badly.
I’d never been good at thinking things through. Some of my earliest childhood memories were of scrapes I’d gotten myself into because I’d done something without thinking of the consequences. So when I’d seen him unbuttoning his shirt that night, I hadn’t been able to think of anything beyond the way his fingers moved as he pressed the buttons through the holes. He hadn’t even been paying attention to what he was doing, as if working on autopilot.
I’d let him lure me into his lair.
And even though he’d been a dick afterward, I couldn’t really regret it. I’d wanted him, badly. And for a few minutes, I’d had exactly what I wanted.
I was under no illusion that Shane would magically fall in love with me. I didn’t have visions of walking down the aisle or even holding hands on the sidewalk. I’d loved him from afar for most of my adult life, and while I didn’t see that changing anytime soon, I also didn’t expect that he’d ever return those feelings.
I was okay with that. Mostly.
I dreaded the day he’d find someone else, knowing that my life would change dramatically when that happened, but I expected it. I’d learned from an early age that sometimes people left whether they wanted to or not, and I’d much rather Shane left me because he’d found a woman who made him happy.
Once when I was nine, my parents had fostered a little boy who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was a year younger than me, and quite a bit smaller. I remember that he didn’t speak much, but was always unfailingly polite when he did. I swear, that kid had seemed almost like a ghost in my nine-year-old mind, but I knew even then that ghosts needed friends. So I’d tried to be friends with him, and though he tolerated me, I didn’t think that he ever particularly liked me much. It wasn’t until his social worker showed up one day after school that I saw the boy smile. Apparently, his mom had left his abusive dad and had been awarded custody. He’d left our house with the largest smile I’d ever seen before or since, and even though I knew I’d miss having him around, I couldn’t help but be glad that he was that happy about leaving.
If Shane found someone else, that’s how I wanted him to leave me behind. Joyfully. Even if it cut me to shreds.
* * *
“Megan’s got the kids, so we need to make it quick,” Shane informed me as he brushed by me into the apartment the next morning. “Is everything packed up?”
“Yeah,” I answered, my eyes widening as two men followed in behind him. “Hi, who are you?”
“This is Eric and Miles,” Shane informed me, stacking small boxes in the kitchen so he could carry three at once. “They’re going to help you move.”
“Wow, thanks, guys.”
“No worries. Shane helped me and my wife move last year,” the taller guy said, reaching down to pick up a large box in the middle of the room.
“He promised me beer,” the one closest to me whispered, winking. Dang, he had that nerdy-cute thing going on.
“Hell, if you unpack when we’re done, I’ll bake you a cake,” I shot back, smiling.
“Let’s go, guys,” Shane said sharply, walking out my front door with the first load of boxes.
I grabbed the garbage bags of bedding I’d packed that morning and followed the guys out of my house, huffing in annoyance as the bags went bouncing off the railing of the outdoor stairs.
“What the hell are you doing?” Shane barked, pulling the bags out of my hands before I’d made it halfway to the ground level.
“What are you doing?”
“You shouldn’t be carrying shit down the stairs.”
“They’re blankets, Shane. They weigh like four pounds.”
“You were about to trip.”
“So the blankets would have broken my fall,” I argued stubbornly. He was being an ass, and while I didn’t mind sitting his moving shit out, I didn’t like the tone he was using to speak to me.