Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“My side of the story is that Megan feels a whole lot like a part of our family,” she says. “When she’s around, you smile and joke around.”
I do?
“You sneak off with her and go down to the lake.”
I narrow my eyes. She shrugs, and that’s relieving. She doesn’t seem to know what we were doing at the lake.
“You don’t look so stressed all the time,” she says. “You aren’t so stiff-looking. I don’t worry you’ll have a heart attack and die at work.”
I sit back in my seat. “You worry about that?”
“Yeah,” she says like I’m ridiculous for thinking she doesn’t. “And Megan looks at you like you’re the most handsome man in the world. And she cares about me. Me. I can talk to her about stuff I can’t talk to you about.”
Like what?
Maybe I don’t want to know.
“I like it just being us,” she says. “But I think we can add Megan too. We should add Megan too. She needs us as much as we need her.”
I rest my head against the leather and squeeze my eyes shut.
I can’t discuss this with my daughter—even if she does make good points. Even if she says what I’m feeling.
Megan does belong here. The past twelve hours have killed me. I’ve fought with letting her go and asking her to talk because I don’t know what’s best for all of us.
Is it right to ask her to give up her freedom for this small-town life? She couldn’t do the things that excite her here. The things she’s used to. Her whole life would change.
Ours would too.
But it would be worth it.
My phone buzzes in the console. Once my truck’s off, I pick it up and see a list of texts from Gavin.
Gavin: ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?
Me: Why are you blowing up my phone?
Gavin: Look, I’m sitting at The Wet Whistle with Megan. She’s pissy, and it’s pushing me over the edge. Plus, she’s bought a plane ticket to go home tonight—and I don’t mean home as in your house. You better fix this.
Me: She’s going back to Texas?
Gavin: Yup. And she wants me to take her to pick up her rental car.
Holy shit.
I don’t know why I felt I had more time to get my shit together, but I was wrong.
My heart pounds.
Me: You’re at The Wet Whistle?
Gavin: Yes. Come. Save me.
Gavin: She won’t shut up.
Gavin: Also, she’s mean, and I’m scared of her.
Gavin: Also, bring your wallet because you should have to pay for this.
Me: Just … stay there.
Gavin:
My chest rises and falls. My hands tremble.
“All men set me up for failure. That’s why I’m thirty years old, alone, and childless.”
My lips twitch.
“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Mr. Marshall?”
I chuckle. No. I’m saying I love you.
“Ken?”
“Yeah?”
“I need your help.”
“If I help you, do I get ungrounded?”
This kid.
I open the truck door. “No, but you might get Megan to stay forever.”
“Deal!”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Megan
“The longer I sit here, the madder I get at your brother,” I tell Gavin.
Gavin holds his head in his hands.
“You’re not very supportive.” I sip my Sprite. “You’re a disappointing best friend. Calista is so much better at this than you.”
“Call her. I’m happy to turn over the reins.”
I gasp. He shrugs.
“I’m ready to get back to Texas,” I lie. “I might even return to my old job and give the West Coast another good ole college try. I didn’t hate myself there.”
The idea of doing those things makes me hate myself. I don’t belong there—in Texas or California. I belong here. There’s just no room for me.
I blink back the tears my strong girl persona has battled all morning. But the less there is to say, and the more there is to think and feel, the harder it gets to stay above it.
It’s also harder not to be angry.
I haven’t felt this way in a long damn time, and honestly, I hoped I was immune to it. I truly thought I had outgrown feeling lonely and unwanted—like the black sheep.
But I guess not.
“Do you guys need anything else?” Tabitha asks.
“A headache pill, if you have one,” Gavin mumbles.
I shake my head at him. “You aren’t helping.”
“A shot of whiskey?” he asks, looking at Tabitha with pleading eyes.
“Not at this time of day,” she says. “Sorry, buddy.”
The front door opens, and my attention snaps to the two people walking in.
Kennedy marches straight toward me. She doesn’t look around. She doesn’t smile at Tabitha or say hello to Gavin. Instead, she stops beside me before wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me for dear life. Oh, this girl gives great hugs.
Behind her is Chase.
He’s a beautiful disaster.
His jeans have holes in them. His black T-shirt was in the dryer last night and is wrinkled to beat all hell. The blue-and-black flannel on top makes his eyes look even greener, and I can barely manage to keep my emotions intact.