Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
However, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t having sex with Isaac.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AC/DC, “HIGHWAY TO HELL”
The next morning, Isaac delivered baked goods and eggs to the farm stand just as I was getting everything ready to open it.
“My mom asked me to drop these off. She’s under the weather,” he said, sliding the two crates onto the counter before removing his hat. His hair was a little longer, and so were his whiskers. Isaac didn’t look twenty-four. He looked thirty.
It was the first time I’d seen him since the rodeo, and it was weird. He wasn’t under the influence and neither was I, yet part of me wondered if he remembered what happened. I’d been thinking about it nonstop. But what if Isaac offered to take girls to Nashville all the time?
“How are she and your dad?” I asked to avoid questioning him about his recollection of the rodeo.
Isaac scratched the back of his head and narrowed his eyes. “I just said she’s not feeling well. My dad is fine. Why?”
I unloaded the baked goods without looking him in the eye. “No reason. I just meant, like … you know … are they good? Do they ever fight?” I should have talked about Nashville. Suggesting his parents might have a rocky marriage wasn’t the best second choice.
When he didn’t respond, I looked at his focused eyes and twisted lips.
“Forget it. Thanks for bringing this stuff.”
“How are your parents?” he asked.
I returned a tight grin. “Fine.”
“Do they ever fight? What about you and Matty? Do the two of you fight?”
With a nervous laugh, I turned my back and arranged the loaves of bread on the shelves. “Sometimes we fight about stupid stuff, but it never lasts. We always make up. And I used to think my parents never fought, but I discovered Grandma Jacobson took us for ice cream when my parents needed to fight. So I guess it’s nice that they don’t fight around me and my sisters. Now that we’re older, they leave us home alone and take a drive when they need to fight. When they return, Dad does the best job of acting like nothing happened, but my mom is quiet for a day or so. I don’t think they fight about anything big like …” I shrugged. “No one is cheating on anyone.”
I said it, and I immediately turned to catch his reaction. But he didn’t have one. I didn’t touch a single nerve. So either he had no clue his dad was cheating on his mom, or he was a pro at hiding his reaction.
“Like you’re cheating on Matty?”
My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach. No, I wasn’t talking about me and Matty. It was easier to pretend that I was not cheating on him. We broke up, even if we weren’t telling anyone. So I wasn’t cheating on him—well, not anymore.
At least, that’s how I imagined it. I didn’t want to be a cheater. I wanted to be a strong woman who pursued her goals while being kind and considerate to those around me.
Kind to Matty, gently letting him go.
Considerate to my family, not jeopardizing their financial and living situations.
If I died, they would call me a martyr.
If I didn’t die, I’d be a saint.
Realistically, I was going to Hell as a sinner.
I cleared my throat. “If you think I’m cheating on your brother, then why don't you tell him? If I knew some guy was cheating on one of my sisters or on one of my friends, I’d tell them.” The second the words left my mouth, I felt a pang of guilt because I did know about someone cheating on someone I cared about, and I hadn’t told her. Violet had always been kind to me, like a second mom. I should’ve told her.
“Define cheating,” Isaac said.
We weren’t that different. Isaac liked to push boundaries and twist the rules to fit his own moral compass. But didn’t everyone do that to a certain extent?
“How do you define cheating?” I chickened out on giving him my answer because I was afraid to say it out loud.
“Sixty-nine.”
I gawked at him. The sex position?
Isaac smirked.
“What about intercourse?” I blurted out the question on reflex.
“Don’t say that.” Isaac covered his mouth with his fist and laughed. “Only sex ed teachers say intercourse.”
Heat crawled up my neck and consumed my entire face.
He shrugged. “I like to set the bar high.”
The only thing that counted as cheating was sixty-nine? That was a ridiculously high bar.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered.
He chuckled, unloading the cartons of eggs and stacking them by the register. “I’m only trying to ease your anxiety.”
“Nice try, but I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the world with that definition of cheating. You’re like the person who thinks calories don’t count if you stand while eating.”