Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I swallow, my eyes moving between his, because, man, do I feel that deep in my bones.
Last summer, I was secretly four months pregnant, ran away from home, and found a new one here. I was going to have a baby with my high school boyfriend. Now, that boyfriend is dead, and my son is nearly eight months old.
Chase looks away, and I wonder what caused the obvious ache in his eyes.
Is it just that he is in love with Ari, his best friend’s twin sister who’s now in love with someone else, or is there something more going on he hasn’t shared?
I don’t know, but what I do know is not to ask people questions they clearly don’t want to answer, so I dig into the box once more and light two fresh sparklers, holding his out with a small bow.
“For you, prince of pigskin.”
Chase grins, taking my offering. “Why, thank you, princess of—”
“Puke?”
Chase looks at me horrified, but when I smile wide, tugging out the bib I forgot I had stuffed in my hoodie pocket, we both end up laughing.
We light a few more, drawing our names in the road with the ends, knowing it will fade into nothing in no time. At some point, we move farther into the bed of the truck, our legs stretched out and heads resting against the window behind us.
The quiet is nice, something I’ve missed amid the crazy but at the same time do my best to avoid because quiet brings peace, peace brings thoughts, and all my thoughts roll together in one giant, spiky lump of regret that seems to live in my gut.
My phone alarm beeps, breaking the comfortable silence we fell into, and I wince as I blindly press the button to cut off the piercing sound.
Chase says nothing, letting me decide if I want to talk about why my alarm is set for twelve a.m. on the dot.
I don’t. I haven’t said a word to anyone about where my mind has been. In fact, I’ve gone to ridiculous lengths to avoid it, so I have no idea why my next words leave my lips. Maybe it’s because he didn’t pity me earlier. I don’t know. Still, the truth tumbles out in a voice so low, I scowl.
“This was the last holiday he had. Which makes it my last first holiday without him.” As my whispers settle between us, a huffed sigh slips past my lips. “That probably sounds so dumb. It’s not like I’m an eighty-year-old woman who shared half her life with someone and then lost him.”
“Forty years or four months, it makes no difference.” Chase is frowning at the night when I turn. “It hurts either way.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, staring at his profile. “Love sucks.”
His laughter is low, and slowly, he looks over, his green gaze holding a moment before he reaches out, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Yeah, princess. It does.”
I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.
We don’t stay much longer, making it back to my house a lot faster now that the roads are clear and nothing but the crash of the waves can be heard in the distance.
I smile as I pull the handle and climb out, closing the door behind me.
“Hey, Payton?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I meet his gaze through the open window.
“Just so you know,” he begins. “It’s okay not to be okay…even if it’s not for the reason everyone thinks.”
I hold his gaze a moment and slowly nod. “You know, I think you might be the first person who has ever said that to me.”
“It’s true.”
My mouth curves slightly, and Chase nods back, his truck sitting there idling as I turn and walk away.
I put the code in the door and tiptoe down the hall. My son’s bedroom door is open, so I slip inside and gently lift him from his crib and into my arms, turning off the monitor.
He stretches a bit but doesn’t wake, instead tucking his little hands between my chest and his as I carry him across the hall and into my room. I don’t bother changing, just climb into bed, gently laying him beside me and sliding my finger between his. He squeezes slightly, his lips parted as he sleeps, and a small smile pulls at my lips as I stare at my dark curly-haired baby boy.
“Happy Fourth of July, Deaton,” I whisper into the night, unsure if I’m speaking to him or to the boy who didn’t get to live to today.
Maybe both.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Payton
Now, July 5
Camera in my hands, I tentatively pull the memory card free, sliding it into the slot on my PC. The import screen pops up, and with it, my heart jolts in my rib cage.
During my internship, I was clearing and uploading every couple of days, but this particular memory card has remained inside its slot for several months now. Since May.