Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“What on earth could he do to warrant a call every week?” Della asks.
“Oh, having gum in class when you’re not supposed to. Not having your computer charged. Not having a writing utensil. Throwing an apple across the lunchroom to see if you can make a basket but hitting a kid in the side of the head instead.”
“Ouch,” Scottie says.
I sigh. “There’s a list. And at some point, they stop just handing out detentions and call the parent every time. I suppose they think we’ll get tired of hearing it and will do something about it. But I try. I ground him. Take his phone. Have long talks until I’m out of breath.” I shrug. “I don’t know what else I can do.”
Della holds a forkful of potatoes in front of her mouth. “If a week has passed since the last call, maybe he’s starting to pull himself together.”
“Let’s hope.”
Despite Dylan’s attitude toward Jay, he hasn’t been nicer since Jay left. I thought he’d be relieved, that he might even gloat in his perceived victory. But nothing has shifted. If anything, Dylan seems more upset. More withdrawn. Sadder. I even found Carter in Dylan’s room, sitting on his bed and talking to him, this morning. If that’s where we are, it might be worse than I thought.
There are times I feel like I’m failing on all fronts with that boy. This is one of them.
The conversation shifts to Taylor from Betty Lou’s. She won a beauty pageant at the state level, representing Alden as Miss Coal Festival. My friends brainstorm ways they can donate to the fundraiser to help her attend the national contest. I smile and nod when necessary or prompted. I try to engage myself in what they’re saying. But my mind keeps fading back to my neighbor.
My heart pulls, and I wish I could find him and tell him we’ll figure it out. I wish I could turn back time and erase our fight from existence. But neither is an option. I’m left with only one.
Try to forget the man next door.
And hope I get my heart back.
After all, it’s not the first time I’ve lost it, so I know I can do it again.
Eventually.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
JAY
Maybe I need to consider Alaska, after all,” I say to the empty house.
I sit on the edge of my bed with a load of despair weighing me down. I’ve done the unthinkable for more than two fucking weeks. For seventeen days, I have come home late and left early—completely making myself unavailable to Gabrielle and Carter. There’s no worry that Dylan will try to talk to me.
But even as the word Alaska comes out of my mouth, I know it’s another impossibility.
I still feel a deep connection to Gabrielle.
If I weren’t absolutely certain that my presence in their lives would create a fissure between them, I would be pounding on the door and pleading my case. I’d fight for them. I would tell Gabrielle I’m sorry for walking away and telling her we would never work out. I’d apologize to the boys for giving up on them so easily when they deserve a man on their side—not to replace Christopher, but to help them navigate their lives. I would explain that I allowed my past failures and wounds to show up in the worst of times—and they didn’t deserve that.
But maybe I don’t deserve them either.
“How am I going to do this?” I ask, standing up and meandering around the dark house. “I can’t keep living like this. But I can’t stand in the shadows, stare at their house at night, and try to send my love to Gabrielle telepathically.”
I’m a damn fool.
A sound makes me jump. I stand alert in the bathroom doorway, listening closely for another sound. Again, it rings through the house. Harder this time.
Someone is knocking.
I glance at my watch. Who would be knocking at my door after midnight?
I move quietly through the living room and peer out the peephole.
What the hell?
My blood pressure screams as I yank the door open. “Dylan, what’s going on? Is everything all right?”
His hair is mussy, like he’s been sleeping. He has slumped shoulders, wrinkled clothes, and a frown that touches the ground on both sides. Despite it all, he lifts his chin and looks me in the eye.
“Can I come in, Jay?” he asks.
I step to the side and motion for him to enter. “Of course. What’s wrong?” The door closes with a snap.
I turn on a lamp by the couch. The air around us stills. The house is so quiet that it doesn’t quite feel real. But the kid in front of me, the one watching me with a silent plea, is as real as it gets.
“Are you okay?” I ask as smoothly as I can manage. “Are your mom and Carter okay? Just answer that for me, please.”