Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Tears flooded my eyes, and I didn’t even try to blink them away as I tore off some of the pastry and put it in my mouth.
Kindness, it seemed, was in the water or something in Navesink Bank.
I forced myself to eat the croissant slowly, savoring each bite, knowing I wouldn’t be able to have anything so decadent again for a long time.
Then I sipped my tea as I found a park to walk Edith around.
She was a tiny breed, sure, but she was big on her exercise. Which, to be fair, was something I’d fostered in her from almost the moment I’d gotten her. For what were mostly selfish reasons. But we’d bonded a lot on our walks. Even if we walked the same two routes every single day of her life.
She was clearly enjoying the change in venue, stopping to sniff everything, barking at squirrels, and one particularly fat dove who’d just been trying to eat some bread leftover from someone’s picnic.
Even after my tea was gone and Edith insisted on being picked up, I couldn’t make myself get back in the car. Instead, I sat on the bench, watching other owners walk their dogs, seeing moms show up with their littles. Then, as the afternoon dragged on, the teenagers came to kick around.
It wasn’t until Edith grumbled, her belly telling her it was dinnertime, that I finally jolted out of my stupor and walked back toward the car.
“Sorry, girl,” I murmured to Edith as I set her up in the backseat with food and water. “Kinda slipped away there, didn’t I?”
She was used to it.
Disassociating was one of the many tools that helped me survive the last few years. I could drift off into my own mind for hours at a time. Once, I’d sat down early one morning and didn’t really snap out of it until dinnertime. And then only because Edith demanded to be fed.
“Hopefully, I won’t need to do that so much anymore,” I added, watching her eat and feeling my own stomach grumble. I had some food stores. But not much. And nothing that sounded even remotely appetizing. I was trying to save as much of my money as possible for gas, so I didn’t want to buy anything else. The croissant was just going to have to be enough until I knew for sure whether or not I had someone who could help me.
After Edith ate and rested to digest, we took another walk.
Then, finally, I forced myself to find the center strip of Navesink Bank. And drove past the clubhouse no fewer than four times, trying to get my nerve up to walk in.
Just then, as I finally got a parking space, all the motorcycles and cars started to pull in. Not too long later, a bunch of scantily clad women wobbled on icepick heels on their way inside. Music thumped, and sounds of laughter spilled out into the night.
They were having a party.
“Well, that’s slightly less intimidating, isn’t it?” I asked Edith. She gave me a dubious look. “It’ll be fine. I saw a bunch of women go in. You’re going to have to go back in your bag, though,” I told her. I got a sniff in response. Sometimes, I swore she was part human with how she seemed to understand a situation. “How about I give you another… cookie?” I shook the bag for her.
I barely managed to toss it into the purse before she jumped inside.
“Hopefully, it won’t be for too long,” I told her as I pulled down the visor, fluffing my hair and trying to bring some order to my messy bangs. Why? I didn’t know. It wasn’t like I was there to seduce Nave or anything—just beg for help. The worse I looked, the better. So I guess it was a blessing that I looked like I hadn’t slept in a month.
“Alright. Cross your toe beans for me, okay? All eighteen of them.”
I picked up the bag, sucked in a steadying breath, and then climbed out of the car.
It was a short walk down the street, but my anxiety ratcheted up with each step. Until I could feel my pulse in all different places: my neck, ears, temples, heart, wrists, knees, and feet.
I was expecting someone to spot me and immediately ask what the hell I was doing there. I clearly wasn’t dressed to party in my linen shorts and plain white tee.
But the couple of men who were hanging around either didn’t notice me, or gave me nods of acknowledgment and immediately looked away.
There was a time when I would have been insulted by the lack of attention. But this version of me knew that anonymity was precious. Better that everyone who saw me immediately forgot I existed.
I pulled the door open, saying a silent apology to Edith’s ears as the music thumped hard enough to thud through my body.