Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Nothing.” The word snaps out. “It’s just a key, Harlow. Not a lease. Not a ring. Just a goddamn key.”
What I don’t tell her is that I’d give her every one of those things, right here, right now, if I thought she wouldn’t run.
Her voice dips, sad and uncertain. “Still…this is so new and—”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” I fire back. “We’ve known each other our whole damn lives. And I’ve loved you for all of it.”
The confession tears through the air, sharp as glass.
Her breath catches, eyes going wide.
Shit. Wrong time, wrong way.
Silence settles hard, bruising my ego further.
“Linc,” she whispers, the regret in her voice unmistakable as she reaches across the table for me.
I pull back before she can make contact, pushing to my feet.
“Wait, you’re leaving? We haven’t even gotten our lunch yet.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not hungry anymore.” I throw some bills down, my chest a war-zone. “I’ll call you later.”
Then I get the hell out before I make an even bigger fool of myself. Every step tears me open, my chest shredding under the weight of what I’ve left behind—her, and the best parts of me still bleeding out in that empty chair.
Morning hits with an ache in my chest and a pit in my stomach.
The second I blink awake, I reach for my phone, praying for a message from Linc that says yesterday didn’t end the way I remember it.
Sadly, the screen is blank. Same as it was at midnight. Same as it was at two a.m. when I rolled over and checked again.
The knowledge only sours my mood further, but if I’m being honest, I’m more upset at myself than him.
With a heavy sigh, I drag myself out of bed and pad down the hall in my tiny pajama shorts and oversized Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride T-shirt Ellie bought me. My hair is doing something that could probably qualify as a felony, but I don’t care. I have no one to impress right now.
Maybe never again…
The dramatic thought has me close to bursting into tears.
Hattie’s already at the table, sipping orange juice and flipping through the classified section of the local newspaper. She looks up as I enter the kitchen, eyes scanning me once, then again, clearly shocked by my disheveled appearance.
“Morning,” she greets gently.
“Morning.” The mutter slips out, thick with sleep, as I reach for the coffee pot.
“No word from Linc, I take it?”
I shake my head and sink into the chair across from her. “Nope. Still radio silence.”
Granted, he’s on shift, but even when he’s working, I get something. A message. A meme. A dirty thought or two. And I always get a good night text.
Not last night. Just silence, and the echo of my own foolish regret.
“Maybe you should text him,” she offers, her tone careful.
“Why should I be the one to reach out first? He’s the one who walked out on our lunch.”
Of course, this was after I panicked over a stupid key and stared at him like he’d tossed me a live grenade when he said he loved me. All because I’m a big, fat scaredy-cat.
“Does that really matter if you’re miserable?”
“Yes.” My answer is quick…too quick.
“Why?”
I open my mouth, ready to list all the reasons, but nothing comes out, my bravado slipping away.
“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” I whisper, letting out my worst fear. “What if I messed up too badly this time?”
She gives me that patient, older-sister look, the kind that somehow sees all the things I don’t say out loud. “He’s going to forgive you, Harlow.”
“How can you be so sure?” I barely manage the words through the burn in my throat.
“Because that man has been all in since day one,” she says. “Even after you massacred his bike. Ruined his science project. He still showed up. I mean, come on, he left the freaking province to be your fake boyfriend at my wedding. Something, I still can’t wrap my head around, by the way…”
Amusement brushes the ache in my chest.
After coming home a blubbering mess yesterday, I finally broke down and told her everything, including the fake boyfriend scandal. To say she was shocked is a massive understatement. The look on her face would have been comical if I hadn’t been drowning in sadness and regret.
“If he can still show up after all that, he can forgive you for guarding your heart a little too closely,” she finishes.
I stare into my coffee, wishing it was that simple, but remembering the look on his face after he said those words…it’s something I’m never going to forgive myself for, so why should he?
Hattie hesitates, fingers tracing the rim of her glass before she speaks again. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod, bracing at the pause.
“Why are you so scared to love him?”