Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
A bitter apology sits on the tip of my tongue. How did my confession to Maren and a sympathy dinner from Ozzy turn into my being on the verge of apologizing to Everleigh for thinking less about her young heart and more about doing hard time?
Before I open my mouth, she stabs her fingers into her hair, clenching it. With a sigh, she closes her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m too close to this.”
I don’t know what she’s talking about or what’s going on, so I hold my tongue and let it play out.
“I’m just”—she shakes her head—“too close.” When she opens her eyes, her hands flop to her sides. “How did I not see it? All this time, I remembered that day from the perspective of an immature seventeen-year-old thrust into an adult world and experiencing love for the first time.”
Her brow furrows. “I didn’t think about state laws or prison time. Not for a single second. You were traumatized, and I never saw it. And it doesn’t matter why I never saw it. This is on me. Not you, Will. My excuses are no longer justified because I’m not seventeen. I’m sorry.” She rests a hand on her heart. “Truly.”
“Will?” Maren interrupts in the doorway behind me as bugs swarm into the shed, buzzing around the light. “Can I have a word with you?”
I don’t know what to say anymore. This is not what I wanted, people feeling sorry for me. Fuck. I don’t know what I want anymore.
Everleigh tucks her chin and turns toward the bed to continue packing, so I follow Maren into the garage, capturing the last bit of daylight glowing along the mountain ridge. I frown at Everleigh’s exercise equipment as I step into the garage. But I don’t say anything because I don’t need to be reminded that she has fantastic legs and toned arms.
“Oh my god!” Maren grabs my shirt and shakes me. “She hasn’t had sex since you took her virginity!”
My face sours. What is she talking about?
“That’s what Liz just said. That’s why you’re infamous in her mind. This is all so messed up. But I profusely apologized to both of them for suggesting Everleigh stay here. I’m sure Liz thinks I’m out of my mind. But I didn’t know she was coming to visit.”
I grab Maren’s shoulders. “Go home. It’s okay. I’ve got this. You’ve helped enough.”
She nods with the cadence of my words, then shakes her head when they register. “No. I did this. Jamie helped too. But ultimately, it was my idea. So I’m responsible for making things right.”
“I’m a grown-ass man who can handle this. And I should have been here to deal with this instead of you. Liz must be really impressed with the coward her daughter chose.”
Maren sighs, but then she furrows her brow. “Why do you care what her mom thinks?”
“I . . . I don’t. Just go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Will—”
“Go.” I kiss her forehead. “You’ve done so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
She gives a reluctant nod and steps over the lined-up kettlebells toward the door before turning back to me. “Wait. You mean that in a vengeful way, not in gratitude.”
“Correct.” I return a toothy grin.
“Ozzy told me to mind my own business,” she mumbles while opening the door.
“Listen to Ozzy. He’s always right.” I follow her outside and head toward the shed, where I knock before opening the door.
Everleigh strips the sheets from the bed.
“When’s the last time you had sex?” I ask.
“What?” She squints.
“You heard me.”
Her head jerks backward. “Why are you asking me about my sex life? I just opened my heart to you with a sincere apology. I had an epiphany. We shared a healing moment. There was an admission of wrongdoing. Responsibility. Remorse. What does that have to do with my sex life?”
“How many sexual partners have you had?”
She folds the fitted sheet with precision, just like Jamie used to do when she lived here.
How is Everleigh a walking disaster, yet she’s shockingly perfect when it comes to folding fitted sheets? This girl—this woman—has my mind all over the damn place.
She glances over her shoulder, hazel eyes framed in smeared mascara, giving me a slow assessment before rolling her eyes. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you asking me that? And how many sexual partners have you had?”
“Ever? Or just this past month? It was a slow month for me since I was at my parents’ house.”
“And by slow you mean you haven’t had sex in the past month because you’ve been at your parents’ house.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There are women in Somers, Montana. Just not a lot. Slow means slow, not idle.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you really so desperate to have sex that you slipped away from your dying father’s bedside to get laid by a stranger?”