Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Time is precious. But so is my mental health.
She squeezes my face before dropping her hands to her side. The look she gives me is like a hug for my heart, the closest thing to a hug from my mom as I’ll ever get. And I don’t take it for granted.
I pull her into my arms and hold her for a long moment, breathing in her perfume again, loving how her energy seeps into me. Then I kiss her cheek again and head back to my car.
The engine purrs as I latch my seat belt. But, before I pull out, I sit and stare at the house.
Being here feels like pressing on a bruise that I never let heal. Every corner of this house—every room, every throw pillow—holds a bit of something that I love. And something that hurts. After a while, I learned it was easier to leave than sort through which was which.
It’s not the best solution, but it works for me.
Mostly.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Hartley
“Hey, Hartley,” Jasper says, holding the door to Patsy’s open for me.
I blow out a breath into the brisk night air.
Voices and music pour out of the bar as Jasper waits for me. He tips back a beer, watching me over the bottle with a set of wary eyes. We haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks—not since the news got around that he cheated on Markie St. James. Markie and I aren’t close, and I couldn’t give a shit about her love life. But if a man will betray his woman, he’ll betray anybody. And I’m not co-signing that behavior. Fuck that.
I nod, sliding by Jasper. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” he says, his voice filled with hope that maybe I’ll continue the conversation. He seems to get the picture, though, because the door swings shut behind me without another word.
“Shit,” I mutter, surveying the scene in front of me. Even for a Saturday night, Patsy’s is packed. There’s no place to sit, and barely any space to stand since tables were pushed away from the center of the building to create an impromptu dance floor.
I’m about to say screw it and head home when I hear the faint sound of my name between songs. It takes a long minute to find the origin, but when I finally do, Brooks is waving at me with a beer in his hand from the back.
I weave my way toward him, sliding my phone out of my pocket as it buzzes.
Brooks: Back of the bar. I got you a beer.
“Wish I’d gotten that message five minutes ago,” I mumble, wondering where in the hell all these people came from.
“Sorry,” Brooks says as I approach the table. “I sent that text as soon as you walked in, but the signal in this place is trash.”
“Hi, Hart,” Audrey says, smiling sweetly. Her trademark pink ribbon twists down her blond hair as she curls into Brooks’s side.
Drake Bennett reaches a hand my way. “Good to see you, Hartley.”
“Hey,” I say, shaking his hand before sitting next to him. I nod at his girl, Gianna, on the other side of him. “I didn’t know you guys were in town.”
“We came up yesterday,” Drake says.
Gianna peeks around Drake. “I’m trying to get him to move to Sugar Creek.”
“What about your parents?” I ask, recalling that Drake’s father has dementia.
“One of my sisters moved in with them,” he says. “And, really, it’s the same distance to them from Nashville as it is from Sugar Creek. It wouldn’t make much difference at all.”
“See? It only makes sense to move here,” Audrey says. “I mean, I’m here now with Brooks. And with Gray retiring, Astrid is going to be here all the time, too.” She shrugs and looks at Drake. “You’d probably save money if you just moved here because you’ll be visiting all the time if you don’t.”
Brooks hands me a beer. Good man.
Although Brooks was Gray’s best friend growing up, and Gianna and Audrey are Astrid’s, I’ve become an odd seventh wheel to their group. With Gray gone during the season and with Brooks having nothing to do, he winds up at the ranch more often than not. We’ve spent a lot of time—some could say too much—together over the past few months.
“We’re actually looking at a couple of properties tomorrow,” Gianna says.
“Where?” I ask.
Drake turns to me. “There are a couple of places out on Stimson, and then there’s a piece of property about three miles past where Brooks and Auddie are building.”
“But that one is land, and I don’t want to build,” Gianna says. “I don’t have patience for that mess.”
“But you could design anything you want,” Audrey counters, appealing to Gianna’s artistic side. “And you’d be so close to Astrid and me.”
“I can keep my eyes open for places if none of that works out,” I say. “I heard there’s a log cabin going on the market just south of town.” I glance at Brooks. “The old Cooper property.”