Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“Hey, what’s this?” Dylan asks.
She picks up the phone that the customer left, turning it over in her hand.
“Someone left it on a table,” I tell her. “I’m going to put it in the Lost and Found.”
“It looks like the one that was in my desk when I stayed in Weston,” she explains. “I forgot about it.”
A look passes between her and Hawke.
“Did you see who left it?” Hawke asks me.
“Some guy.” I take the phone out of Dylan’s hand and set it back down. “I didn’t get a good look. Why?”
Hawke’s quiet before he draws in a deep breath and shakes his head. “No reason. Just leave it in the Lost and Found. Someone will come for it, I’m sure.”
Aro throws him a look as I push open the back door, nudging them out. Not that I don’t love them, but I have exactly two hours before I need to be in bed.
Dylan takes another bite, groaning. “Quinn, seriously. You should go global.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“At least domestic shipping!”
I smile, giving her a little shove.
But then she spins around. “Or enter that baking contest!”
“Right!” I feign enthusiasm. “The Shelburne Falls Festival of… Reindeer…Chestnut...Silly Sweater Dasher Dancer Ice Miracle Angel Fest!” I tease. “Will do!”
Hunter laughs his ass off because I’m a baker in a small town, and I’ve heard all of the Hallmark jokes.
They wave, Dylan blowing me a kiss, and I catch it, closing the door and locking it.
I adore them all. I love how happy they are. They deserve it.
But I feel like the odd one out more than ever now.
And Kade doesn’t count. He loves being unattached.
I shake it off, needing some fresh air. And my earbuds.
Changing in the bathroom, I don a pair of black leggings, sports bra, and white tank crop top with a black jacket over it. I braid my hair and pull on the light blue Chicago Cubs cap before slipping my ID and shop key into the pocket on my leg and fit my earbuds into my ears. Tuning to my favorite list, I leave through the back door, locking it behind me.
It’s only after eight. Dark but not late. The streets will still be alive with activity. Especially on a warm June evening.
I leave the alley, heading onto First and turning onto High Street. I roll my shoulders, stretch my arms above my head, and let the breeze wash over my body as the scent of potted flowers on the sidewalks lingers in the air just a little.
I double-knot my tennis shoes and start jogging, passing my shop, Rivertown Grill, and the bowling alley. I take a right into the neighborhood, and feel a burst of energy in my legs, free at last. I sidestep trees and mailboxes, swerving around cars parked at the curb. Then, I cross the street and dive between houses.
Mr. Zellers sits on his back porch, and I wave as I descend the small grassy hill to the fenced-in community pool. I race past it, inhaling the chlorine and remembering the first and last time I swam here. I had a pool at home growing up—still do—but if you wanted to be seen as a teenager, this was the place. Turned out, I didn’t really want to be seen.
I pound the pavement, sweating already, and curving right onto Main Street.
A truck comes up behind me, passes, and I see the red paint and the JT Racing emblem on the tailgate. I hold my breath, dread setting in, but I keep running, even when I see his taillights brighten. Oh, no. The vehicle halts in the middle of the street and I square my shoulders, continuing on.
Jared steps out of the driver’s side. I don’t slow down. “Don’t worry. I’m staying in lighted areas—”
But my brother swoops me up and throws me over his shoulder.
Damn him! I grit my teeth together, but only kick my legs once in frustration. It’s no use fighting more.
Jared carries me around the truck, and Jax hops out of the passenger side, opening up the back door for him.
Jared deposits me inside, and I try to jump out, but Jax slams the door in my face. I yank out my earbuds and pound my fist against the window.
I don’t believe this.
I kind of loved it when I was six. Started to resent it when I was eleven. I’m twenty-one years old now.
“Run in the morning,” Jared says, climbing into the cab.
“My business is open in the morning!” I’m louder than is helpful. “This is the only time I have.”
He shifts the truck into gear and hits the gas.
“Shelburne Falls is a safe place,” I point out.
“Until a traveler comes through one night and slaughters a family,” Jax argues, “and people start saying ‘it was such a safe town, we used to leave our doors unlocked…’”
I drop my head back, locking my hands on top. “I’m in prison.”