Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Yes,” Autumn says softly.
“Then I guess you should go.” I turn back to the guy, who picks up his drink and finishes it in two gulps, hissing.
“See you around,” he tells her as he walks out with his pad.
“Thank you,” she says, and I finish the whiskey in my own glass.
“Didn’t do it for you,” I retort to her. “Brady’s been busting his ass to get people in here for the last couple of years. It would suck that it would be all for nothing.”
She nods at me. “Well then, thank you for Brady.” She turns around.
“Who is he?” I want to kick myself for asking her. It’s none of my business. I need to get the fuck up and get the fuck out of here. I had a plan for tonight, and that plan had nothing to do with fucking Autumn.
“His name is Darren.” She walks back over to where I’m sitting, I start turning the glass in my hand. “He’s a reporter for a New York magazine called The Future and The Past.” My hand stops moving and so does the glass. “They are doing some special on the accident involving Waylon Cartwright.” Her voice trails off. “He came in a couple of days ago, and Brady kicked him out.” My eyes focus on the glass in front of me as I try to get a handle on the anger roaring inside me. “Then he sent me his business card.”
“What did you tell him?” I hiss out the words.
“Nothing.” I can see the tears well in her eyes. I push the stool away from me, and the noise makes everyone stop talking and look over at me. “I didn’t tell him anything.” She takes one more step toward the top of the bar.
I don’t say a word to her. Instead, I turn on my heel and march out of here. My hands ball into fists by my sides as I walk down the street and head to where I should have just gone to begin with. The echo of my heart beating fills my ears, and it’s the only thing I hear as I make my way to the crash site. The last time I was here was when Autumn first rode into town, stopping by the tree where another wreath sits. Sitting down and closing my eyes, I remember the days after the crash.
I sat in my closet, my back against the wall because it was the only place where I could still smell her, as if she was still here with me. The shirt she wore the night before was in my hands, soaked with the tears that fell onto it while I held it to my face. The light turned into darkness in a blink of an eye. “Honey.” My mother came into the closet. It felt like she left me alone for five minutes, but it was two days later. “Jennifer’s parents are here.” I looked at her, confused, not sure why she was telling me this, as she came to kneel in front of me. “We have to choose something for her to wear.”
“I should have married her.” The words left my mouth as I stared at my mother, my eyes itching from the dryness, or maybe it was because I hadn’t slept since I got home. Not a wink. The minute my eyes would close, I would be right back where my heart stopped. I would be right back where my hell started. I would be right back there, and without her by my side this time. “I wanted to marry her, Mom.” The dryness in my eyes was no more as the tears slowly started to roll down my face. “I love her, Mom.” My mother shed her own tears. Not saying a word, or maybe she did, it didn’t matter because nothing anyone had to say to me during that time I wanted to hear. There was nothing I wanted to hear except for Jennifer calling my name. Mom sat beside me with her arm around my shoulders as she kissed my head, and I wept for the only woman I would ever love.
My father came in not long after, helped me get dressed, and led me out for the first time in a week. Sunglasses on as I stood there in my black suit, watching her coffin, begging for her to come back to me. Begging for her to just kiss me one more time. Begging at one point to be with her. If she wasn’t with me, I didn’t want to be here. I was so angry at the whole fucking world. Angry with my grandfather for telling me she was gone. Angry with myself for not protecting her when she needed me to. Angry with myself for going out that night. Angry at the world.