Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Her delighted smile makes my heart soar. “These are beautiful.”
“I can’t wait to show you off at the autumn festival.”
She freezes, the flowers halfway to her nose. “Whiskey, we don’t have to go into town. I don’t expect—“
“I know you don’t expect me to. But you’re my future and I’m proud to show you off,” I tell her, meaning every word. She may not see herself as brave, but she is. I want to be brave right alongside her and that means showing up for her.
The look she gives me is everything. “And I’m proud to be on your arm, Marine.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. I know she’s supposed to leave next week for the race. She’s supposed to return home to Georgia after that, but she doesn’t know that I’m planning to follow her. She’s my home now, and I’ll follow her anywhere she wants to go.
Chapter 13
Sophie
Whiskey and I make it to the autumn festival just as the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I can tell the crowd makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t complain. He just pulls me close, putting his arm around my shoulders.
There’s a booth with face painting for the kids. I stop and help out, painting a few faces. And when I’m done, the way Whiskey looks at me takes my breath away.
I think he’s thinking the same thing I am about one day raising a family together. After that, we decorate a pumpkin together. They’re having a big contest to judge all the pumpkins later, so we make one with a cutout of a zombie and submit it to the contest for a $5 donation to the children’s fund in town.
There’s every kind of autumn dish imaginable for sale, and all of the delicious scents blend together. I eat a corn dog that’s flavored like pumpkin pie. I like it, but Whiskey keeps making a face with every bite.
Candy apples are our next treat. The apples are crunchy and tart, just sweet enough underneath all of that caramel. I beam up at my new boyfriend.
“Isn’t this amazing?” He leans close enough to whisper in my ear, “Nothing tastes as good as your pussy.” My cheeks heat, and I duck my head so no one can see how warm my face is. When I shiver, he wraps me in his jacket, and we walk down a lane of booths, pausing to let some of the kids run in front of us.
He says, “What made you decide on Asheville for your first 5K race?” I say, “It’s a charity run. For every mile run by each participant, $10,000 is being donated to fund research into post-traumatic stress disorder. I don’t want anyone else to ever go through what I faced and feel that alone.”
He says, “You’re so brave. I’m in awe of your strength.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Well, what about you? You seem lighter tonight.”
He says, “I talked to my mom. Emma May just has this way of making me feel like it’s okay to be who I am, and she gives the best hugs. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“Wait, Emma May is your mom?” My mouth goes dry at the realization, and my heart pounds. He’s oblivious. It’s written on his face.
“It’s obvious, by the way,” he says. “Yeah.” So casually. Across the way, Missy waves at me at the same time that a cowboy in a Stetson gestures for Whiskey. He’s oblivious to my inner turmoil.
He says, “Go say hi to your friends. I’ll be right back.” Then he disappears to go greet the cowboy.
On shaky legs, I cross the lane to greet Missy, who is holding Daisy. Daisy grins up at me, showcasing two teeth that have come in on her bottom gums. She’s such a cutie, and Missy has dressed her up as a little pumpkin.
Missy beams at me. “I heard you’re thinking about staying in Courage County. I hope that’s true, and if you do, I’d love to have you at the book club.” My stomach sinks. I’m not sure what to say to that.
Two minutes ago, I could have sworn I was going to try to stay in Courage County, but now I’m not so sure. As if she senses all my doubts, Emma May steps up. She gives the two of us a beaming smile.
“What are you two girls talking about?” Missy chatters on about something, but I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” I direct my words at Emma May. “I need to talk to you in private.” The two of us step behind one of the booths. I don’t want anyone overhearing this.
“What’s wrong?” the little old lady, who I’d begun to think of as a friend, asks. “You were the one who did it,” I say. “You rented me Whiskey’s cabin.”