Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Instead of speaking, Judith turned on her heels and marched out of the café, with Betty Lou hot on her trail.
Brystol sat back down just as Wendy brought over her pie and milk.
“I just have to say that was brilliant, Brystol!” Wendy gushed. “You have no idea how often we’ve all wanted to tell Judith off. She’s so mean!”
She smiled at Wendy. “Well, I’m tired of the old bat treating everyone, especially Hope, like second-class citizens. It was about time someone set her straight. If my mother won’t, then I will.”
Wendy smiled before turning and rushing back to the kitchen. Most likely to tell everyone what had just gone down.
I pulled my gaze from the swinging door that led to the kitchen and focused on Brystol, who was devouring her cherry pie.
“Where in the hell did that come from?”
She glanced up and asked, “What?” with a mouthful of pie, so it came out more of a muffled sound.
I motioned toward the exit. “That whole telling off Judith thing.”
“Oh. I just got tired of her shit. She came over here to start something, and I’m not in the mood.”
Blinking a few times, I replied, “I’d say so. I didn’t know you had it in you, Brystol.”
She looked up again, pausing before pushing another forkful of pie into her mouth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Gavin.”
Wendy brought out our sandwiches, and we ate silently for a few minutes. Brystol had never answered my question about being in love, and a part of me wanted to bring it up again, but the other part didn’t want to know if she had been. I’d only torture myself late at night, trying to figure out who the guy was.
“What did you want to talk about?” I finally asked, when half of my sandwich was gone.
“Well, like I said earlier, I wanted to apologize for what I said the other day.”
I nodded.
“Does that nod mean you’ll accept my apology, and we can move on?”
“Move on?” I asked.
“Yeah, Gavin. I thought we were going to try to be friends for the sake of Evelyn and Denny.”
I wiped the corners of my mouth and sat back in the seat. “Why did you say it?”
Confused, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I got the feeling you were trying to push me away. Why?”
Her mouth opened then closed. “Push you away?”
“Yes. It was like we were getting along just fine for a little bit, but you couldn’t deal with that, so you decided to say something you knew would bother me.”
When her eyes dropped to her plate, I wanted to jump up and yell, “I knew it,” but I kept my cool.
When she lifted her head, our eyes met. “I don’t honestly know why I said what I said, other than maybe, in my mind, I’m still trying to paint you as the guy I thought you were. The guy who let his friends talk shit about me and didn’t stick up for me. Maybe I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Brystol. I was young and stupid.”
“And I’m a grown adult woman who shouldn’t be playing games. I can own that.”
“So, does this mean you really want to be friends?”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“I would too.” But when she started to chew on her lower lip, I asked, “What?”
“Well…” she started, then gave a shrug. “Can we still banter sometimes? I mean, I kind of get a little thrill when we do it.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “A thrill, huh?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Yeah. Don’t you?”
I nodded. “I do.”
“So maybe we do the whole frenemies thing.”
“I can do that.”
Her smile grew to a grin. “Good. I can too.”
I reached across the table, and she took my offered hand. I squeezed hers and said, “I want to be here for you, Bry.”
“Oh my God!”
Brystol’s eyes widened as we both slowly turned to see Cindy standing by our table.
“You’re dating her?” Cindy shouted.
Brystol closed her eyes and let out a soft groan.
“How long has this been going on? I thought you couldn’t stand her?”
Brystol gave me a wry look, raising a brow.
Holding my hands up to calm Cindy, I said, “Stop. Please just stop.”
All eyes were on us.
“Who would’ve thought the sheriff would have so much drama,” someone said.
I looked around to see who said it. “I’m not the sheriff, and I don’t have drama.”
“It’s Officer Quinn. Not the sheriff.”
That voice I recognized as my old seventh-grade math teacher, Mrs. Sharp.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I prayed for patience.
“Cindy, nothing is going on with me and Gavin. Up until five minutes ago, we couldn’t stand each other, much less have slept together. Gross.”
It was my turn to give Brystol a look, as she was pretending to gag.
Turning to Cindy, I took her arm, moved a few feet away, and lowered my voice. “You misunderstood what we were talking about. And why do you care? We broke up.”