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)
But I have a feeling that even if I’m at Hartley’s with time on my hands, I won’t be alone. And that means I won’t have to deal with whatever’s in my head all by myself. Although I’m still not sure if I want to dig into those memories, I do know it feels less scary with Hartley.
I’m also pretty sure Lolly knew this. She must know that he needs me, too.
“Things are going good,” I say, fighting a lump in my throat. “But I’m calling just to say thank you.”
“For what, honey?”
Hartley comes in and stops in the doorway. Concern is written all over his handsome face.
“For this,” I say, as if that explains it all.
And maybe it does.
“Lolly, I need to go,” I say, as relief shadows Hartley’s face. “I love you.”
“I love you the mostest.”
Smiling, I end the call.
“Is everything okay?” Hartley asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
I gaze up at him. “Do you think we could skip the hotel tonight and just go home?”
He answers that with a kiss. And that’s fine by me.
Because for the first time, I’m not packing to leave. I’m packing to begin.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Hartley
“What happened to your hand?” I ask Brooks as we watch Pigasso root around his enclosure.
“Peeling an apple, of all things. I need to come up with a better story, though. One that sounds more badass.”
I grin as the cool evening air blows through the fields.
I’ve never been an anxious person, figuring that I can solve problems as they come at me, but today, I feel more at peace than ever. And the fact that it’s because Mira is in our house, getting herself settled and chatting with Cathy, is wild as hell.
“Thank you for walking her down the aisle,” I say, picking at a piece of wood peeling off the rail. “I don’t know what made you think of that, and it makes me feel like an asshole that I didn’t.”
“That’s why you have me around. To think of all the things that you miss.”
I snort, the sound fading into a chuckle. “Okay.”
“I just got to thinking about things, you know? Her dad did me a solid once, so I thought I might be able to pay him back in a small way. That’s all.”
“For the first time in your life, I think you’re underestimating yourself.”
He laughs, pushing away from the fence.
We walk down the dirt road toward my house, both of us lost in our thoughts. I’ve often wondered what that’s like for Brooks. What goes on in his head when it’s just him listening? I kind of imagine it as a cartoon from the eighties where someone chases the other around with a baseball bat.
“Did you hear about Audrey’s brother?” he asks, fighting a grin.
But I can read Brooks like a book. I may not always understand what I read, but I know the story's angle. And this grin? He’s up to something … and he’s amused by it.
That’s never, ever good.
“What happened to him?” I ask.
“I guess he was arrested a few hours ago.” He shrugs, trying to appear casual. What it really means is I know exactly why.
“Why?”
“Fuck if I know.”
I groan. “Just tell me.”
“Turns out the motherfucker was betting while he was fighting, which is a big no-no,” Brooks says with a smile. “He was also involved with bribery scandals and other shit. But you get the picture.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “This is all alleged, of course.” He laughs. “No, it’s not. He did it. All of it.”
My mind goes to sweet Audrey. She’s one of the kindest people—truly good to her bones—and I hate the thought of her hurting because her brother is an ass.
“How’s Audrey taking this?” I ask.
“She’s okay. We sat down a few weeks ago, and I told her some things that she needed to know. I think that shocked her more than him getting arrested.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s too happy about this. “Did you have anything to do with him getting arrested?”
We stop in front of the porch steps, and I rest my arm on the railing. Cathy’s garden has been replanted while I was gone. And someone, probably Bobby, cleaned up a pile of wood that was tossed against the barn.
It all ran fine without me.
I grin.
“I wouldn’t say I had anything to do with it,” Brooks says. “I just told a few people the truth about a few things, and voilà! The trash took itself out.”
“Nice.” I pat his shoulder. “It’s been good talking to you, man, but my wife’s inside and I need to check on her.”
He laughs, shooing me away. “Go. Enjoy. I’ll talk to you later.”
I take off my boots and set them beside the door before I walk through it. The house smells like cinnamon and apples, a scent my mother loved and I’ve never changed. Maybe it’s time to do that.