Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“People are talking about that?” I’m shocked.
“Not only talking about it, they’re taking sides.”
“What do you mean?”
“Amon or the admirer, of course. A love triangle? We’ve done enough of them in the Revival stories for you to know better. The woman always loses, Rosie. And after this?” She shakes the Busybody again. “They’re mostly rootin’ for Amon. And if you drag it out too long, they’re gonna get mad.”
“What the fuck? My life is no one’s business.”
April scoffs. “This is Disciple. You, of all people, know that your life most certainly is our business.” She looks down her nose at me, making her lips thin with disapproval. “Put an end to those letters, Rosie. They need to stop.”
Then she turns and goes back inside her tent. Leaving the scent of fresh-baked bread behind her.
I sit there on the crate, confused. Because I didn’t ask for any of this. People should just butt out.
But I know I need to do something about these letters. And tonight is the night Erol will be waiting for me at Fayetteville Burger Boy.
I wasn’t gonna go. I wasn’t. I wrote my response and that was it, as far as I was concerned. But everything April just said has me worried. Not about the opinions of the town—obviously, I don’t care what people think about me—but I don’t want this to get back to Amon. It’s gonna ruin everything. There is no love triangle here. I’ve done nothing but open letters that were addressed to me. Why is this my fault?
Why, Rosie? Come on. Because you’re the woman. Clearly, I’m a harlot who wants to have her cake and eat it too.
I roll my eyes. But April isn’t wrong. If he keeps sending me letters, people will keep talking. And then Cross is gonna hear about it.
No. Nope. That right there is my hard limit. No, no, no. My son will not be hearing gossip about some fake love triangle. I absolutely need to put an end to this. I had no intention of meeting Erol at the Burger Boy tonight, but I’ll be there. And by the time I leave he will know exactly where I stand and can be on his way to wherever it is he’s going.
That’s one thing I like about Trinity County. There are no apartments for rent to outsiders. Even the trailer I vacated to move into Lowyn’s house was snapped up by graduating high schoolers. There are no houses for sale, either. And even if there were, they would not be listed anywhere else but on the bulletin board inside the little stone building where Jim Bob Baptist does his government business.
I guess Erol could come into town—attend a Revival, or something—and make trouble for me. But that would be a mistake. I have four brothers and they would not be swayed by a silly love-triangle story. They would chase him out.
But the letters, they’re different. They come from outside and sneak their way in without permission, but there’s no way to prevent them from coming.
So after Revival I go home—Cross is out with friends again, of course—and change into regular clothes. Because I’m going down to the Burger Boy to send this man from my past on his way.
I wait there for three hours. I sit in my car at the fuckin’ Burger Boy for three hours.
And he never shows.
My anger builds as I drive home. What a waste of time. This jerk, he hasn’t changed. And I don’t even want to see him again. I only went so I could tell him to stay away. And now it looks like I was rejected again.
Never. He’s dead to me now.
When I park in my driveway it’s nearly midnight but I notice that there’s a light on inside the house. I grab my purse and go to the door, unlock it and push it open. “Cross?” The light is coming from his bedroom. “Are you home?” He was supposed to stay the night at his friend’s house. But when I look in the bedroom, it’s empty. He’s not here. I flip the light off and go back into the living room, looking around, suspicious now.
It’s probably nothing, but… I dunno. I get a weird feeling, like someone was here.
Someone like Erol?
Calmly, I walk into the kitchen, open up the pantry, and grab the shotgun. I check all the bedrooms on the first floor first, then the basement. I do this just in case someone is still here. It gives them a chance to escape. I would much rather an intruder escape than shoot them.
Flashes of memory from when Collin had to do just that, in this very house, start flipping through my brain like someone’s shuffling a deck of cards.
I take my time in the basement, listening for creaking floorboards. Then I go back up and check the master bedroom on the second floor.