Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
The bell chimes above the door when I enter.
“I’ll be with you in just a minute!” The voice belongs to Henry, not Chase, and I hate the relief that brings.
On not-so-steady feet, I walk deeper into the store. It’s been forever since I’ve been in this place, but it still looks the same as it did in high school. Even the scent of old wood brings back a certain nostalgia.
“Henry,” I say as I approach the man.
He startles, looking guilty when he turns around. He has his hand stuffed in a box that reads BRAKE CLEANER, but when he pulls it out, he’s holding a pack of screwdrivers.
“Rearranging?” I ask.
He frowns. “Something like that.”
“Is Chase here?”
Henry places the box and the screwdrivers on the counter beside him, as if he needs to give me every ounce of his attention.
“Why are you looking for him?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. I have no idea what this man knows. I don’t know if Chase poisoned him against me. The thought that he might have or worse yet, did that with the boys, makes the threat of tears burn the backs of my eyes.
“I think it’s time we had a conversation.”
He nods as if he agrees. “You really hurt him.”
“I did no such thing,” I snap, my lips rolling inward as I fight the urge to apologize.
I’m done with that part of my life. The woman seeking validation and acceptance is gone. I refuse to bend in order to fit in a box someone has built to their specifications without a single consideration of who I am or my own needs.
Now, if only I can commit to it rather than feeding on old lessons taught by my mother.
Spiteful women are lonely women, she’d say if she were witnessing my behavior right now.
“I did nothing to him. He’s made his choices, and that’s fine, but I will not let him—”
I snap my mouth closed before pulling in a sharp breath into my nose.
I hold my hands up.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t even be here. Have a good day, Mr. Woodson.”
Pain claws at my skin, my throat on the verge of sealing as I spin around and walk out of the hardware store. If I’d been paying any amount of attention, I would’ve realized his SUV isn’t even parked at the store. As I climb back into my car just as the first tear of many rolls down my cheek, I realize it’s a blessing in disguise.
Chase doesn’t deserve a single thing from me, not even the cussing of his lifetime.
It’s wasted energy. It would fall on deaf ears.
He paid that invoice last week, having the check sent to the house and requiring a damn signature. His pettiness knows no bounds. They tried to deliver it twice before they found someone home to sign for the damn thing. I figured it was one last jab at me. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Emily walked into the house and made him trash all of my hard work. I have no doubt that the damn house looks like every other cookie-cutter celebrity home—cold and uninviting.
I debate going to the bakery to spend time with Adalynn, but there are several cars parked out front when I drive by. I haven’t told her of my plan to leave town because I don’t want to see the same disappointment in her eyes that I saw in my mom’s when I disclosed that information to her.
It seems I can’t please anyone these days, but that part of my life is over as well. If being selfish is required to be happy, then so be it.
I’ll go to Austin and work for that family. I’ll pay my parents back. Once all my obligations to my past are done, I’ll throw my middle finger to the wind and finally start living my life for myself.
With any amount of luck, my life will stop looking like a lonely country song.
Chapter 37
Chase
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell Cole as I open the back door of the SUV so he can climb inside.
“You promised,” Cale argues.
After getting Cole situated, I close his door and go around to the other side.
“What exactly did I promise?” I ask Cale.
“You said the next time Papaw sends us home hyped up on candy, you’re going to make sure we’re loaded up when we go back.”
I smile at his reasoning.
“You complained of a stomachache last time. You said you ate too much ice cream,” I remind him.
“That’s why we want cupcakes!” Cole says, the enthusiasm in his voice telling me he’s already convinced I’m going to cave.
I take a deep breath, snapping the buckle on Cale’s booster seat and giving it a quick tug to make sure it’s secure.
“We’ll only eat one,” Cole bargains, pulling a scowl from Cale’s face as if he’s appalled his brother would make promises he could never keep.