Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
But I don’t. I half-run like a lady.
Mom would be proud.
Brooks is digging through the bags when I return.
“Piper’s makes the best chicken sandwich in the universe.” He pops open the top of one of the bigger containers. “It’s crispy chicken with cheese, some kind of aioli, pickles, and Piper’s homemade slaw.” He looks up at me. “Sound good?”
“Sounds even better if you also brought fries.”
“Of course. I’m not a monster.” He opens a small box filled with golden brown steak fries. “I forgot ketchup, though.”
“That won’t be the worst thing you’ve done to me in the last twelve hours.” I pull two glasses from the cabinet and make us each a tea. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s trying to suppress a chuckle. “Thank you for bringing food. I have nothing left here besides an apple and a jar of peanut butter. I need to go to the store today.”
He pops a fry into his mouth as he organizes the food. “How are you feeling this morning?”
I shrug. “Okay. I will say, though, that drinking is overrated. Beer tastes like garbage, and it sloshed around in my stomach all night.”
“As I said, it’s an acquired taste. Definitely not for everyone.”
I hand him a glass and then sit across from him. “Good to see your arm is still attached.”
“It’s still here but sore as a motherfucker. Ran to Doc Burns’s office this morning and got an antibiotic and checked my Tetanus shot records. Mom was on my ass, so I did it to appease her.”
“You did?” I nod approvingly. “That’s good. Is it infected?”
“Nah. Burnsy was madder than hell that I didn’t come in when I cut it, though.” He lifts his sandwich to his mouth. “Not the first time he’s been mad at me. Won’t be the last, I’m sure.”
I consider pointing out that I now know that money wasn’t what was keeping him from the Urgent Care like he insinuated but decide to let it go. Instead, I take a bite of the chicken and nearly moan in delight. The meat is juicy, the aioli tangy, and the slaw perfectly crunchy. It’s the perfect sandwich. How did Astrid not mention this? Seems like a necessary thing to share with your best friend.
“Jasper said that you and Markie got along well last night,” Brooks says.
“Yes. Markie is adorable and so fun. They make the cutest couple.”
“She’s all right.” He takes another bite. “Her sister, Mira, used to date Hartley.” He pauses while he chews, seeming to reconsider his statement. “I don’t know if they dated, now that I think about it. But Hart has had a thing for her as long as we’ve been alive.”
I take a sip and wonder what the story is between them. “So, she’s not into him?” I nibble the end of a fry. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Fuck if I know if she’s into him or not. They’re not together, so my guess is no.”
“Come on,” I say, pointing a fry at him. “Where’s the small-town gossip?”
He takes another bite of his sandwich, watching me over the top of it with crinkled, amused eyes.
“You’re not nearly as good at this as Lisa,” I say, chomping off the end of the fry.
“My apologies. The next time I’m with Hart, I’ll ask for a full breakdown of his relationship with Mira and then report back.”
“That would be appreciated.”
He shakes his head as he takes a drink. “It’s not that big of a deal, I don’t think. Mira’s just … Mira. She comes and goes as she pleases. The girl doesn’t have a mean bone in her body but she’s … feral, I guess, in a way. I doubt that works well for Hartley.”
Probably not.
My spirits sink as I imagine Hartley pining for a woman he can’t have. I have tragically been there and done that, and it sucked. And I hate that he might be feeling that, too.
We sit quietly, enjoying our lunch and the sun streaming through the windows. There’s a warmth settling over the kitchen, and I wonder if it’s coming from the sunshine … or him.
I’ve only known Brooks for a short time, yet I can take a full breath when he’s near. There’s no pressure to be anything I’m not, or an expectation to act in a certain way. I don’t have to be the sweet Audrey that everyone knows and that’s liberating. In fact, I might have uncovered a bit of sassiness and snark—or, at least, it’s found its way to my lips instead of lying dormant.
Best of all? There’s no mental blowback from doing or saying things I’d never normally do or say. I’m not embarrassed or worried after the fact. When the world quiets, so does my head. And that’s the truly beautiful thing about this.