Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
We keep in touch as often as we can. Even if it’s only through phone calls, it’s good to hear the light and happiness in her voice. It’s what I hoped for her.
Climbing into the car, I start the engine and peel out.
My grip tightens on the wheel the whole drive into town. Waves of realization crash into me like I’m waist-deep in the ocean, being swallowed by the sea. I’m going to have a life where I can love a girl and she won’t be a tool used by my mother or a toy by my brother.
I’m going to be able to keep Hailey and our daughter safe.
In the town she loves.
It overwhelms me. Throttles me, and I’m just barely holding it together when I shift gears and parallel park one street over from Main, which is blocked off from cars. Locals are preparing for the annual Harvest Festival next weekend. Fall decor is being erected—scarecrows, pumpkins, hay bales, apple baskets, the humongous Harvest Festival banner stretching across the street.
I lock the car and jog over to Main. I can’t see the bookstore from this far down the road. Not with all the ladders, wooden crates, and people milling around.
Please still be there.
I didn’t think to call. I just assumed they still would be, but it’s been hours since Rocky told me where Phoebe and Hailey went.
My stride is long, urgent, and I search left and right for her. I duck under a strand of acorns and feel locals staring, whispering, knowing. People I’ve known my whole life as I raced through this street as a child with no responsibilities and then as an adult with heavy pockets of errands and to-do lists.
“Hi, Jake.” Some reach out. “Sorry to hear about your brother. I had no idea…”
“Thanks, Nathan,” I say when he pats my shoulder. Hailey’s story in the paper has definitely made its rounds. I pass him and hear more. “You doing okay, Jake?” and “I always knew Trent was a bad apple, Jake” and “Good for you, Jake. Helping that girl.”
I will give her full credit when I’m less preoccupied. I respond, “Have you seen Hailey Thornhall?”
Ladies point giddily down the street, and that’s when it dawns on me that the town is rooting for me and Hailey to be together.
My pace picks up.
“Weather’s going to be great for the fest, Jake!”
“That’s great, Amber,” I call back, distracted. I am very distracted…by a critical hunt for a beautiful platinum-blonde girl.
I slow as the bookstore comes into view. Phoebe fiddles with the extension of a paint roller while Rocky holds an aluminum ladder in a lunge, chatting with his wife. The chalkboard sign out front reads, Bookstore Closed for Renovations.
The Baubles & Bookends logo is already partially painted over.
Hailey isn’t there.
Disappointment tries to drop my shoulders, but I hurry forward in the middle of the street. Then my feet drift into a frozen state beneath me.
Hailey is at the fountain with Oliver.
Red paint streaks her soft cheek, and Oliver dabs the bottom of his shirt at her face. He must’ve wet the fabric in the fountain. As he cleans off the red splotch on her cheek, he grins down at her and likely flirts.
She acts disinterested, but he’s able to pull a teeny-tiny smile out of her, which just illuminates his features. It’s like a lighthouse calling me home. I am tugged forward. Slowly moving again.
I won’t tire seeing them together. It’s time-capsuled love. Old love. And Oliver is right, it doesn’t rust. It’s made to endure through harsh climates. So the fairy tales and icicle dreams can’t melt in the winter.
My love is new. Born into the magic of summer. Made to reach December.
The two, I believe, coexist naturally.
Oliver spots me first, his smile stretching. He rotates Hailey, and the second she sees me, her expression obliterates my senses.
She looks like she’s free-falling.
I feel like I’m being shoved. I keep heading to her. Walking, walking, closer, closer. Until my pace quickens; I’m needing her in my embrace, wanting her wrapped around me.
I jog.
Her hands fly to her mouth as her eyes pool. She’s nodding. She extends her arms.
I collide with her and pick her up against my chest to applause and my racing heartbeat. I slide my hand into her hair while she touches her forehead to mine.
We’re smiling while I whisper, “ ‘All the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride.’ ”
She laughs through her tears. “ ‘In her sepulchre there by the sea.’ ”
“Not her sepulchre,” I say.
“No?” She closes in on my lips.
“No.” I’m about to kiss her. “Just in our kingdom by the sea.”
FORTY-NINE
Rocky
Midnight. Don’t be late.
I read the incoming text from my sister and pocket my phone. Only to see Jake beside me, checking the same message on his.