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)
“You’re moving?” Maren asks, barging into the kitchen, shaking her head like it’s not possible. She drops her purse to the floor and straightens her gray Grizzlies T-shirt over her white leggings.
Thankfully, she’s focused on Will instead of me. What just happened is obvious on my face, like a flashing red light.
Will lifts his wet fingers to his mouth, and my eyes widen as he wipes them over his lips before licking said lips.
Oh my god . . .
“My dad has stage four cancer. He’s not treating it. So, yeah, Mare, I’m moving to Somers to be with him and my mom.”
Tears fill her eyes as she covers her mouth. I can’t stop gawking at Will’s lips. Again he curls them over his teeth, tongue making another swipe across them.
“Jamie said you’re leaving tomorrow?”
He nods. “I tried calling you.”
“I was working.” She sniffles and wipes her tears before they slide down her face.
“I figured. And I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye. It’s a two-hour drive. I’ll be back to visit.”
Maren throws her arms around his neck, and Will hugs her tightly. I feel like I’m intruding on something personal, even though he had his fingers inside me just minutes ago.
“Are you selling the house?” Maren releases him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“No. I’ll rent it out. It’s paid for. Why not get the passive income? Plus, I have a good amount in savings. No need to liquidate.”
Maren glances past Will to me. “You should rent the whole house.”
I shake my head. “I’m buying an Airstream and living on my land while my barndominium is being built.”
“That’s so Grey’s Anatomy of you,” she says.
I wrinkle my nose.
“You’ve never watched Grey’s Anatomy?” Maren’s eyes bug out.
“Nope. I have trouble with medical dramas. I spend too much time critiquing them.” When I shift my attention to Will, he studies me with an unreadable expression.
My gaze drops to his hand. He should probably wash it. When I return my focus to his face, he smirks as if he’s reading my mind, and he makes a point to lick his lips again.
I swallow.
“I guess I can understand that,” Maren says. “I wouldn’t watch a wildfire drama.”
“Well, I’m fucking exhausted. So, let’s not make this too emotional. I’ll be back to visit before too long because I’ll have to do some stuff around here to get it ready to rent.” Will gives Maren one more hug and kisses the top of her head. “Tell Ozzy goodbye and give Sweet Pea a big hug from me.”
“I will,” Maren says. “Give my best to your parents. And if you need anything, please let me know. You don’t have to go through this alone.” She releases him. “If you need help with your dad or just someone to keep you company or help your mom, I’m your person. I can take some personal time off too.”
Will shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. But thanks.”
“I’m available too,” I say.
They look at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Probably not the best idea,” Maren says. “Given your pasts.”
I look to Will for . . . something. I’m not sure what. Support? A confession?
He keeps his gaze pointed to the floor as if the grout lines are giving him a hidden message. His silence speaks volumes.
“You’re probably right.” I give Maren a tight smile, and if Will would have the balls to look at me, I’d give him a special expression too. “I have errands to run. Good to see you, Maren.”
“You too, Everleigh.” I can’t tell if Maren’s smile is genuine or not. I think so, but Will has me a little off-kilter after our encounter.
“Sweet dreams, William,” I say in a voice so sweet I nearly choke on the words.
He gives me a quick glance and a slight nod as if what happened before Maren arrived is nothing more than an afterthought.
No more smirking.
No more lip-licking.
Men are machines with buttons to turn on and off their emotions and desires. Women are waves. Our feelings build over time and crash onto the shore, catching everyone around us off guard and pulling them into our depths until they’re drowning.
I look into a three-year-old Airstream in Hamilton and write the owner a check to hold it for me. Then I grab groceries on the way home. After I put everything away and game for two hours, Will comes down the stairs in jeans, messy hair, no shirt.
My avatar dies.
I quickly shut off the TV and stand. “Can I help you pack?”
He stops a few feet from the sofa and studies me before shaking his head.
“I bought an Airstream from a couple in Hamilton, and I’m already looking into trading in my car for a truck. So I can be out of here soon.” I shrug. “In case you rent this place to someone or a couple who don’t want any roommates.”