Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
My father was never coming back. My childhood was never coming back. And though I’d been trying to recapture that feeling for so long, Tristan’s departure was making it all the more obvious: everything had changed, and I was powerless to stop it.
And that’s why I’d begun to question it. Question why I was holding onto this house, and to Kansas, for dear life, anyhow. Why couldn’t it just be easy? Why couldn’t I just decide to move with Tristan and give a big middle finger to all of my fears? But every time I thought about selling this home, a big, empty void formed in my heart.
I couldn’t just give this up to a stranger. It was my home, in every sense of the word.
Not that it would matter if Tristan wasn’t nearby.
But when Tristan showed up on my doorstep with the damn roses, it felt like seeing the sun for the first time in days. Sunlight breaking through the fucking fog I’d been in, finally, even if I still had no idea what I was going to do.
“Sometimes I think you know me too damn well,” I said, taking the flowers from him, my heart feeling so full it ached.
“It’s our first date,” he said. “Of course I brought you flowers. Helps that I already knew your favorite kind.”
Tristan, God love him, had dressed up for our date. He had on a light blue collared shirt under a sexy leather motorcycle-style jacket, the kind that he’d always been able to rock really well. He was in fitted black pants and his nicest boots, too, and he had put on the tiniest amount of cologne—just enough so that I was enticed, and wanted to follow the scent and find exactly where he’d put it on his skin.
“You’re the first person who’s ever given me flowers,” I said. “I feel like I’m someone else right now.”
“You deserve red roses more than anybody else I know.”
I headed to the kitchen and pulled out my multi-tool, snipping the ends off the roses like my grandma had shown me to do back when I was a little kid.
“I definitely don’t own a vase,” I said, looking around for anything I could put the roses in. I opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a small bucket meant for paint. “Here. This is perfect.”
“Now that’s a general contractor’s bouquet if I’ve ever seen one,” Tris said, marveling at the beautiful roses sticking out of the worn old paint bucket.
“And it’s the prettiest thing that’s ever been in my house,” I said. “Other than you. Obviously.”
He hummed. “I know I’m taking you out on a date, but now you’re just buttering me up.”
“I still don’t quite know why you’re taking me on this so-called date,” I told him.
“So-called date?” Tristan protested. “Hell, no. This is a real-deal, hundred-percent, bona fide actual date.”
“Is that right?”
He nodded toward the front yard. “Let’s go.”
We headed out into the front. As if on cue, Tris walked over to the passenger door of his truck, opening it for me to step inside. I couldn’t help but laugh, but inside, it really did make me feel as special as a fuckin’ celebrity on a red carpet.
For the rest of the evening, I was along for the ride, and he was the captain. He drove us to a nice restaurant about twenty minutes out of town, and we had some of the best food I’d eaten in years. I hadn’t known there was a way to make hot dogs, mac and cheese, and strawberry shortcake fancy, but this place managed to do it in the most delicious way. We ate with candlelight between us and Tris asked me questions that people normally would on a first date. He asked about my dreams, my goals, the things that were important to me.
Of course, he already knew most of the answers. But I couldn’t remember the last time we’d actually sat down and talked in a place like this, one-on-one.
Tris and I were doers. No matter what, we were usually working, hiking, camping, or running while we hung out. Sitting across from him and sharing a romantic meal felt like being transported to another world. A world where I got to sit there and stare at his beautiful eyes. Where I got to linger on the little bluebell tattoo that adorned his wrist, a tattoo I’d always loved. Always secretly wanted to kiss, too.
It really did feel like we were a couple on our first date, even after twelve years of friendship.
After dessert we went to see the movie he’d picked out, which was a new Dwayne Johnson flick. Any other time, I would have been drooling over The Rock’s body, but instead, my eyes kept drifting over to Tristan in the dark. He reached over to hold my hand soon after the movie began, and he held it until the end.