Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Once at Atta Boy, I push through the door and walk straight to the kitchen to ask Griffin where Brock is. My anger and jealousy at a level I’ve never experienced before.
“Where’s Brock?”
Griffin spins around and stares at me like I’ve got three heads.
“Griffin, seriously, where is Brock?”
He pulls the towel off his shoulder and wipes his hands on it as he walks toward me. “As far as I know he had the day off. Him and Willow were going on a day trip or something. Why? What’s up?”
Of course he’s with his girlfriend. Happy and in love, while I’m here aching over a woman who never was and never will be mine.
Fuck, what am I doing?
Millie isn’t mine. Can I really get pissed at her for accepting an invitation to dinner from Oliver Moore?
I lean against the counter, feeling the fight leave me.
“Tripp, what the hell is wrong?” Griffin asks, standing in front of me.
I shake my head, running my hands down my face. My eyes lift to his and I sigh. “I’m a goddamn mess.”
He nods and leans against the counter next to me. “Talk to me.”
What can I say? I can’t tell him the truth, but I’m ready to explode from keeping everything inside.
“Pretty sure that girl is into someone else,” I admit.
“Why do you say that?”
I shrug, keeping my gaze on the floor. “I heard someone invite her to dinner.”
He chuckles and I snap my head toward him. “I’m sorry,” he says, holding his hands up. “But, you heard someone invite her to dinner, so what. Did she accept?”
“I don’t know, I walked away,” I say.
“You really are a fucking idiot sometimes, Tripp.”
“Thanks, that helps a lot.”
“I’m not saying I don’t get it. I do. I totally understand what it’s like to want someone so badly that you feel like burning down the world when it doesn’t feel like it’s going to work out,” he says.
“Yeah, grab me a match.”
“Hell no, and listen, you don’t even know what the outcome of that invitation was. I told you this once, but I’m going to remind you. If you want this girl, fight for her. Show her who you really are. Don’t act defeated when you aren’t.” He looks over at me and smiles. “Fight for her, Tripp.”
“It’s not that easy,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” he says, pushing off the counter. “Relationships and love are fucking hard, but not impossible. Does she know how you feel? Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Stop thinking you aren’t good enough. Man up and tell her how you feel.”
If only it was that easy. He thinks I don’t understand love and relationships and maybe the fictional romance I read leads me to believe things that aren’t true. Maybe the hero isn’t always the hero. But it’s not how I see things. It’s not what I’ve read and it's definitely not what I’m writing. Romance is something far more profound than grand gestures or fleeting passions. Romance is woven into the fabric of everyday life, found in the smallest of details and the most subtle of moments. I believe that true romance is about connection—two souls recognizing something in each other that feels both familiar and entirely new. I see beauty in the way two people grow together, learning to navigate each other's strengths and weaknesses, and finding joy in the simplest acts of kindness.
Romance isn’t just about the fireworks; it’s about the quiet moments that linger in the heart—the touch of a hand, a shared glance across a crowded room, or the comfort of knowing someone is there, even in silence. Love is a journey, not a destination, where the most meaningful parts are often the challenges that test the strength of a relationship and the resilience of the heart.
In my writing, I strive to capture the essence of what it means to truly love someone—to be willing to sacrifice, to be patient, and to embrace the imperfections that make love real and lasting.
To me, romance is not a fantasy but a reflection of the potential for deep, transformative love that exists within every human connection.
Griffin is right about one thing though. I need to fight for her. I’ve never read a book where the hero doesn’t fight a bloody battle of fists, witts, or emotions to get his girl.
Millie might never be mine, but what kind of hero would I be if I didn’t at least try?
I grin as I nod. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Griff.”
“I’m always right,” he says, laughing.
“I call bullshit on that, but I appreciate you listening and not saying anything.”
“It’s not my story to tell,” he says, plating some food. “But you wanna tell me why you came in here pissed off looking for Brock?”
Shit.
“He borrowed something of mine and I wanted it back. I might have overreacted.”