Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I’m. Unwell.
Emotion clogs my throat because it’s the first time I’ve let myself say those words, even if just to myself.
“Everleigh—”
“I believe he’s in a better place. Your dad. He’s not thinking about the day he died or who was by his side. I think we torture ourselves over things that don’t matter. We live with regret but die with contentment.”
“What do you regret?” he asks.
I turn my back to him and saunter toward the plants on the windowsill, sticking my finger in the soil to see if they need water. “I regret my nappuccino today. My boss wasn’t happy that I was late returning from lunch. I haven’t slept well lately, so my naps have been hard ones to awaken from. I might need a double shot of espresso next time.”
“Have you talked to your mom lately?” he asks.
“No, why?” I step into the kitchen and fill a yellow watering can.
“I talked to her yesterday.”
“That was nice of you. I’m sure she appreciated it. So how long are you staying in Key West?” I water the spider fern hanging by the television.
“Depends on how long you need me to stay.”
I force a laugh. “That’s silly. I’m fine. Of course I want you to stay as long as you want, but don’t stay on my account.” My hand shakes as I set the watering can back onto the tiled counter. It’s a small house with bright colors and fun accents like seashell mobiles and beanbag chairs.
“When I was in high school,” he says, “I didn’t make the basketball team. I thought I’d be a shoo-in because of my height, but apparently my coordination was lacking, probably from the growth spurt over the summer. Of course, all of my friends made the team. So when they asked me about it, I said I had to decline the position at the last minute because I was getting my tonsils out. Then I had to pretend to be sick for several days so my mom would let me stay home. I packed lunches filled with pudding and yogurt because my friends would’ve questioned my eating regular school lunches. And I faked having a weak voice for a few days.” He grins and shakes his head.
I sit on one of the beanbag chairs and pull my knees to my chest.
“To this day, my friends don’t know that I didn’t make the team. And to make matters worse, I actually had to get my tonsils removed my senior year in high school, so I told my friends I was getting my wisdom teeth removed.”
“Do you have your wisdom teeth?” I ask.
“No.” He laughs, sitting in the beanbag chair across from mine. “I got those extracted two years after I graduated, so I didn’t have to make an excuse. But for the record, I was going with an appendectomy.”
I cover my mouth and snort.
“Thank god I didn’t go to college with my high school friends. I was clearly going to run out of body parts to have removed.”
“Liver, kidney, a portion of a lung. Part of your pancreas or intestine. Bone marrow. You could have kept going for a while,” I say.
Will removes his hat and runs his hands through his shaggy hair before lacing his fingers behind his head. “Everleigh, I’m here to help you.”
“I don’t—”
“Just let me speak.”
I deflate and bite my tongue.
“I’m the least qualified person to help you.” He drops his hands and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I don’t even know if I can help you. But you were with my father when he died. And if that messed you up, I’m so incredibly sorry. I don’t know why you went there, but you did. And maybe that triggered something from your past. Maybe the loss of your own father.”
I shake my head. “My father is—”
“He’s dead, Everleigh.”
My jaw clenches as I swallow hard. I have never felt so weak and helpless. After years of pining for this man, trying to impress him, dreaming that one day he’d want to be with me, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s not a dream. It’s a nightmare.
“I’m sorry for the fucking awful comparison.” His brow tightens. “My not making the basketball team is not even close to your growing up without a father.”
I quickly blot the tears from the corners of my eyes.
“I just want you to know that I don’t judge you for pretending you had a life that you didn’t. In fact, I love the world you made up. It’s endearing. And I wish that it were true because . . .” Will pinches the bridge of his nose as his Adam’s apple bobs.
My tears can no longer be gently blotted. They pour out in long streams.
“Not having a father really fucking sucks.” He clears his throat and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.