Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
She chuckled. “I can only imagine what you’re thinking. One second, I think this is the right thing to do, then the next, I’m wondering if now is a good time to do this.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I could hardly sleep last night. I don’t know how my parents are going to react when I tell them I think it’s time to clean out Grady’s room.”
Placing her hand on my leg, she gave it a light squeeze. “You’re doing the right thing, Colt. I feel it in my soul.”
I stole a glance at her, and when our eyes met, she smiled…and a calmness I hadn’t felt in a very long time swept over me.
“Right now, I’m feeling like there isn’t anything I can’t do as long as I have you by my side.”
She huffed. “How did you make it the last ten years?”
“I honestly don’t know. Most of the time, I felt numb. I kept a smile on my face to hide my broken heart, but for years I felt like a shell. Moving through life simply to move.”
When she didn’t say anything, I looked at her once more. She was staring out the front window.
“That’s the perfect way to describe my last ten years, as well,” she said quietly.
I parked and turned the truck off. I glanced up at the sky and said, “Cold weather is moving in tomorrow. Today could be the last nice day for a while.”
Ensley leaned forward and looked out the windshield. “Yep, it’s going to be a beautiful day.” She leaned back and looked at me. “Are you ready?”
I exhaled. “As ready as I’m going to be.”
“I’ll be right there with you, Colt.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I didn’t deserve this woman’s love and compassion, but I was going to be greedy and take it.
“Let’s go.”
We got out of the truck and walked up the steps of the front porch, hand in hand. Before we even had a chance to reach the top step, the door flew open and my mother stood there. Her eyes swept over us—noting our hands—and a huge grin appeared on her face. She may have been in her upper fifties, but my mother was still a beautiful woman, and right now, her soft brown eyes sparkled as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” she asked, holding her arms open to Ensley.
“What is it you think you see?” Ensley asked with a chuckle, before walking into my mother’s embrace.
She hugged her, then pushed Ensley out to arm’s length and said, “A reconciliation of sorts?”
Laughing, Ensley conceded, “Of sorts.”
“Good morning, Mom,” I said, as I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Is Dad here?”
“Of course he is. We finished breakfast not that long ago, and I’ve been in the kitchen making some bread. Come on in.”
Ensley and I exchanged a look before following my mother into the house. My father stood right inside the door with a wide smile, as well.
“Have you two kids made up?” he asked, with a hopeful expression on his face.
Ensley glanced at me. “I’m waiting on your son to ask me out on a date.”
“Starting fresh, are we?” my mother asked, as she motioned us to follow her into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, and I couldn’t help but let out a low moan.
“That smells so good, Mom.”
“She’s on a baking mission. Sourdough bread, banana nut bread, and right now she’s got a cinnamon apple bread in the oven.”
“Would you like a slice?” Mom asked us.
“I would love a slice,” Ensley replied, as I nodded.
Soon, my mother had three different types of homemade jam on the table, along with freshly cut banana nut bread.
“Jacob, you can have one slice, and that’s it. You’ve already had some.”
My father didn’t argue; he simply took his slice and smiled at it like a man who hadn’t eaten in days. Then he paused and eyed my mother. “Did you somehow sneak kale into this?”
All she did was smile, which caused Ensley and me to laugh. My father stared at the bread for a long second, then shrugged and took a large bite, clearly deciding it didn’t matter whether it was hiding kale or not.
“Mom, Dad, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
They both looked over at me.
“Is everything okay?” my mother asked.
“Yes,” Ensley responded before I could. She quickly looked at me and mouthed sorry. I reached for her hand and held it as I focused back on my mother and father.
“I wanted to talk to you about Grady’s room.”
My mother’s face instantly drained of color, as my father leaned back in his chair, his expression suddenly emotionless. “What about it?” he asked.
“It doesn’t look like anyone has touched it in years, if at all.”