Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Aspen and I sit in the car for a moment.
“I don’t know what to do,” she says.
“I’ll go with you. Or we can turn around and drive out of here. Whatever you want.”
“No, I have to see him.
“I understand.”
That’s not a lie. I do understand. There were people I needed to see when I returned to the States, especially that last time—the time when I had to talk to the families of my fallen friends. Things didn’t go as well as I wanted them to in some instances. And I’m afraid… I’m afraid that will happen to Aspen as well.
Finally, she sucks in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
I move to get out of the car.
“No. I have to do this alone.”
“Are you sure?”
She clicks open the car door, hesitates a moment, and then opens it. “I’m sure.”
I touch her left wrist. “Wait a minute.”
She turns to me, her eyebrows raised.
“Pull my number up on your phone. Right now. Do it.”
“Okay.”
“That way you can reach me in an instant. All right? You hear me?”
“Buck, this man isn’t dangerous.”
“I’m sure he’s not.” Although honestly, I don’t know at all. “But if anything happens, if you’re even slightly uncomfortable, or if…”
“If…I have some kind of flashback or something?”
“Anything, Aspen. Please, baby. Do this for me.”
She smiles then—sort of, anyway—pulls my number up on her phone, and shows me the screen. “Okay?”
I nod, and she leaves the car.
I’m parked on the street, and I watch her as she walks up the pathway. Brandon lives in a corner unit. His parking must be in the back somewhere.
She reaches the door, and then she hesitates. She brings her hand up, ready to knock, puts it down again, brings it back up.
I’m about ready to leave the car, to go get her, when—
She knocks on the door.
Is there a doorbell? I have no idea. I can’t see closely enough from here. But maybe she’s knocking for a reason. Maybe she just wants to pound something. I get it.
When no one comes to the door, she knocks again.
Again, I’m ready to spring to action when—
The door opens.
It’s a woman.
I have no idea what Aspen says. I can’t hear.
But then Aspen walks into the townhome and the door closes.
18
ASPEN
“I’ll get him. Come on in.”
The woman wears a pink lounging outfit. Probably her pajamas. It’s after ten, but it is Saturday, after all. It never occurred to me that I might be waking Brandon up.
She’s beautiful—auburn hair, rosy cheeks, no makeup. Is this how she looks when she gets out of bed? I look like a wet dishrag when I get out of bed.
“Bran!” She yells up the stairs. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Bran? He used to hate it when I called him that. “I’m not fiber,” he would say.
“Be right down!”
Brandon’s voice. I wondered if I’d recognize it. It’s the same. Exactly the same.
I watch the stairs until he appears. He’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt, no shoes, his hair a mass of curls.
I wait for my body to react, to show me I still feel something for this man.
When he sees me, he squints, and then his eyes pop into circles. He stumbles down the rest of the stairs, sounding like a stampede of wildebeests.
“Aspen? Is it really you?”
He looks at me then. Stares at me. Nearly loses his footing as he takes the last step from the staircase.
“Bran?” the woman says. “Who is this?”
“Oh my God. Aspen. It is you.”
“I’m waiting here,” the other woman says.
“Oh my God. Charity, I’m sorry. This is Aspen. She…”
“It’s a long story, Brandon,” I say.
“I heard rumors. Rumors about… That you might be alive… I was going to call your parents, but…” He glances at the other woman—Charity.
“Wait. What?” Charity looks from me to Brandon to me again.
“This is Charity. She’s my…”
“Girlfriend?” I say. “Fiancée?”
“Significant other is what we say,” Charity offers.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand.
I’m shaking. I don’t realize it until I try to shake Charity’s hand.
She doesn’t offer me hers. Instead—
“Anyone want to clue me in here?” she says.
“My God… You look… You look the same,” Brandon says. “Except your hair. It’s… I like it short.”
His words are lost on me. I absolutely don’t look the same. But again, they didn’t mess with my face on the island. If he saw me naked, he’d see the truth.
But apparently that will never happen. Not with Charity here.
It’s not that I want Brandon back. And I certainly didn’t expect him to wait five years for me, especially when he may have thought I skipped town and left him.
In fact, now that I look at Brandon, I’m not sure how I was ever attracted to him. He’s slightly shorter than I am, but a lot of men are. He’s still as good looking as he ever was—unruly blondish hair, blue eyes. A nice masculine jawline. Decent body.