Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Family. I love mine. I always thought I’d have my own in a vague, way-far-into-the-distant-future type of way. Ella is cute as a fucking button, and I loved growing up in a big family. Watching my older brothers pair off has made me realize just how much I want to find my person. Get married one day. Have kids.
I just don’t want to do that at twenty-seven. I have too many other things I want to accomplish first. The idea that I’ll have to give all that up—
My eyes burn. I blink and roll down my window. The roar of the cool air fills the truck. The sudden drop in temperature is bracing, but it does nothing to slow my wild heartbeat.
I decide to let myself feel all these awful feelings on the drive up to Dallas.
Panic.
Embarrassment.
Shame.
Sadness.
I learned when my parents died that bottling that shit up is not the answer. Cash made sure we were all in counseling for years after the accident, and my takeaway was just how important it is to sit with your emotions. Whether they’re good, bad, or ugly, you gotta honor them.
I don’t let the panic or the sadness win. But I do allow myself to mourn what might’ve been. I have no idea what Wheeler wants to do about the baby. Will she want to keep it? If she does, would we co-parent, or…
Hell, I don’t know what I want to do about the baby.
But assuming she does want to keep it, my plans for the future just took a hard left turn. No way I’ll be able to travel, at least not for a while. I did get a huge pay bump when Mollie and Cash made my brothers and me equal partners in Lucky River Ranch. But Sawyer’s said over and over again that raising a baby in this day and age ain’t cheap. Especially if you plan to save for college. I didn’t get a degree, but I want to make damn sure my kids have the opportunity to get one if they want. Then there’s the diapers, the car seats—shit, I should probably get a new truck, one that’s more reliable—the cribs, the insurance, the child support…
Not to mention the fact that my world would get a lot smaller. More constrained. If I’m gonna be a daddy, I’m gonna do it right. That’s just how my parents raised me. Mom would roll over in her grave if I was a deadbeat who was only kinda sorta involved in his kid’s life. I wanna be present for everything: the first smile, first steps, first day of school. My mom and dad were my people, and I wanna be my kid’s person too.
That kinda commitment means showing up. All the damn time. And that means no longer owning my time.
My life.
The idea sends my pulse into a tailspin.
I know I’m getting close to Wheeler’s place when I hit traffic. It’s rush hour, and I-35 is a parking lot. Gives me some time to get myself together. I dry my eyes and slow my breathing, which in turn slows my heart rate.
I have to be strong for Wheeler if—when—she falls apart. The important thing is that she knows I’m there for her.
GPS leads me to a busy area near the center of the city. I pass lots of restaurants and shopping along with midrise apartment buildings that look brand new. People my age—younger even—crowd the sidewalks.
I like it here.
I’m also not surprised this is where Wheeler lives. I’ve gathered that Wheeler’s parents have some money, and this part of town can’t be cheap to live in. They pay her rent for her? Buy her a place even?
I slow at the end of a quieter street when my GPS tells me I’ve arrived at my destination. Glancing out my passenger side window, I see a row of cute townhomes made of painted brick with black shutters.
A beat later, I spot Wheeler’s white Mini Cooper parked on the opposite side of the street.
My stomach dips. She’s home.
I parallel park in a spot nearby and check my phone. Surprise surprise, she hasn’t responded to my texts or called me back.
Running a hand over my face, I realize I forgot to shave. Fuck.
Am I making the right call by showing up like this?
I think on that for a minute before the answer comes to me on a hard, certain heartbeat. I am making the right call.
At least I think I am.
Whatever the case, I’m here.
Taking a deep breath, I open my door and walk across the street in the deepening twilight to 209 Meadowood Lane. When I see the words on the doormat, I immediately know it’s Wheeler’s place.
Everyone Welcome Except Jolene.
I smile. Then I screw my courage to the sticking place and raise my arm to knock on the door.