Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
His smile dimmed. “But… we made plans.”
Before your sister took my fucking journal.
“Listen, Jake, I’m not really open to starting something. And I—”
His forehead creased. “I know you want to move slow. That’s fine with me.”
“No, I mean… I don’t want to move at all.” Well, that sounded stupid. “I mean, I just want to be friends.”
His face went through several emotions. Surprise, disappointment, anger, then resignation. “Well, I can’t say I love hearing that, but I can’t say I’m surprised either. You and your dad’s friend, huh?”
“What? I didn’t say—” Had we been that obvious the other night?
Jake shrugged. “It’s cool. So we’ll hike as friends.”
“Jake.” I hesitated. “I really don’t know—”
“Please? The overlook’s one of my favorite places, and it’s only a few miles from here.”
I glanced at the journal on his dash again and considered my options.
I was angry… though I supposed Jake wasn’t the one who deserved my anger.
I was also concerned that if I made a big deal out of demanding my journal, it would make my desperation obvious. That might make Jake suspicious about what was inside it… assuming he hadn’t already read every damn word. Or if he had skimmed through it, he might wonder why I was making such a big deal over a few scraps of lyrics and decide to research further. He could even refuse to give it back entirely and drive away.
“Please?” Jake repeated softly, giving me a sheepish grin.
I blew out a breath. Trace was gone until this afternoon. And Jake had mentioned the trailhead was close to the campground.
The easiest solution was to go with Jake and grab my journal the minute I slid into the passenger seat of his truck, no confrontation needed.
We could share a friendly hike, and I could find out what he really knew—or thought he knew—from the journal.
That would be a much better use of my time than sitting in the van worrying about it. Or doodling Trace’s name in a heart bubble while waiting for him to come back.
“Okay,” I agreed. “As long as we’re back here by one.”
Jake’s smile widened. “Great! Hop in, and we’ll be the first on the trail.”
As soon as I climbed in the truck, I grabbed the journal and slid it into my daypack, unwilling to let it out of my sight again.
As we pulled out of the campground, Jake looked over at me, still with an easy smile on his face. “So, is the just friends thing because of your dad’s friend? Be honest.”
I’d already decided not to share that with him. I wasn’t concerned about hurting his feelings anymore, but I didn’t want to give him more information about me than he might have already gotten.
“I’m not going to be in Colorado much longer,” I said. “And I’m not up for a long-distance thing.”
Which was… actually true. Even with Trace, I wasn’t sure how it would work. His roots in Legacy were as deep as they could grow, while I’d lived in San Francisco my entire life.
But who was I kidding? I’d probably move to Antarctica if it meant having a future with Trace. Moving to Legacy—the town where my siblings and cousins already lived—would be a joy. Hell, it would feel like coming home.
I’d meant what I’d said to Trace yesterday. It was my favorite place on Earth.
“Too bad,” Jake said. “Guess that cuts Trace out, too. He lives in Montana, right?”
I shrugged uncomfortably. “Not sure what that has to do with anything. I told you, this isn’t about—”
“And you’re in the music business,” he continued like I hadn’t spoken. “So you probably can’t leave California.”
My entire body went cold as I glanced over at him. “Um…”
He flashed me a smile. “I know you said it was a secret, but it’s just us here. Must be wild to grow up with Jude Marian as your father.”
The blood flooded back into my brain so fast, it made me dizzy. “Right. Yes. Wild.”
Chill out. He knows you’re Wolfe Marian, Jude’s son.
He figured that out back when you got Shay the guitar.
Jake tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as a Randy Travis melody played through the truck’s speakers. “Your dad’s a fucking legend, man. For real.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He flicked on the blinker and turned right onto a small gravel drive, marked only by a splintered wooden stake in the ground.
“Speaking of music,” he said. “Do you have any tips you can give Shay about getting into the music business? I figure you must have insight, growing up around all that stuff.”
His words disappointed the fuck out of me. This was exactly why I’d used a different name on my trip.
“It’s not an easy industry to get into,” I said, trying to keep my answer polite but vague. The kind of stuff I’d know from growing up with a father in the industry, rather than anything I’d learned from my own experience.