Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Half?”
“Well, there’s a betting pool. Couple of them, actually. One for why you ran, one for when you’re coming back. So some folks want you to stay gone—until their day, at least.”
“People are awful,” Hope says. She’s right, as far as I’m concerned.
“People want to know what’s going on because they’re nosy assholes, but they care about you too,” Joy counters. “Roy and his badge-toting dad aren’t everyone’s cup of whiskey. You’ve got some pretty hard-core fans yourself.”
Even though Joy’s talking about Hope’s fans, the mere mention of the word makes sweat bead up on my brow. This is one of my problems—dealing with the public. It’s why I wear a mask onstage in the first place. I couldn’t perform otherwise. I told Hope that my confidence grew when I got older, but that’s only in certain areas of my life. In others, I’m still the shy, nervous kid who sang only in his room, with no one listening, because the one time I tried did not go well. I cracked, and so did my voice.
Hope looks completely lost at the information Joy is throwing at her, like she never imagined Roy wasn’t everyone’s favorite and she was seen as the coattail-riding girlfriend. Which, again, pisses me the fuck off. Who the hell is this guy? Because it sounds like he needs a two-piece wake-up call. One-two, ding-ding, motherfucker.
“What if I could help?” I look around, not sure who said that. When two matching pairs of blue eyes land on me, I realize I’m the one who spoke, and nearly swallow my tongue to eat the words because I’m not sure what I’m talking about. Quickly making it up as I go, I add, “You could hang out with me. Show me around Maple Creek for a few days while you figure your shit out. It’d help me figure out mine too.”
In a perfect world, neither of us would need to escape from our lives, but life isn’t perfect. Nothing is, so we have to work with what we’ve got. And right now, that’s us, this town, and a few days’ time.
Stop the hands on the clock. Capture forever in a moment. Explore the space within you.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that—” Hope says.
At the same time, Joy points at me. “I like it.”
In unison, they look at each other and say, “What?”
They are definitely twins.
Joy takes charge, seeming used to the role. “You can’t leave. You said you needed to get out of Maple Creek, but Dad and Shep would hunt you down, and I don’t think Mom and I could stop them. But if you’re here keeping a low profile, I think they’d go along with it and give you the time you need to figure things out. And like I said, you have friends in low places around here who’ll help you by not telling Roy or Sheriff Laurier a damn thing. But first . . .” Joy turns to face me fully, narrowing her eyes as she glares into mine. I’m sure she thinks it’s intimidating. For some, it might be. For me, I’ve dealt with worse.
“What?” I grunt.
“What’s your shit that needs figuring out? Are you getting my sister into something stupid, dangerous, or otherwise ill-advised?” She ticks the options off on manicured nails.
I meet Hope’s eyes instead. She’s the one I’m risking it all for, so she’s the one who deserves to know. But, mindful of Joy’s profession, I’m careful as I say, “Me and my boy Sean work together. Lately, it’s not going well, but we need it to. I need it to.”
That admission sucker punches me in the chest. I don’t know what I’d do without my brother-in-arms, and I sure as fuck don’t want to find out.
Hope presses her lips together in understanding. She nods, but there’s uncertainty in her eyes. About the arrangement, not me. “Are you sure about this? I’m not a tour guide—”
“Coulda fooled me,” I interject, and she smiles a tiny smile, likely remembering all the recommendations she made last night and on the way here.
I can see the war raging in her mind as she decides. But before she has a chance to, Joy is physically shoving us toward the door, apparently reassured that I’m not a serial killer or fugitive on the run. “Sounds like a plan. Here’s your bag. It’s packed for your honeymoon, but I figured that’d work.” She pulls out a duffel from somewhere and throws it my way before she directs us down the hall and toward the front door. To Hope, she says, “Your phone’s in there too. Send me the address of where you’re staying so I can keep tabs on you.”
With that one, Joy shoots me a look of warning. “I’ll give it to Shep and Dad, too, just in case.”