Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“It was work. White after Labor Day, huh?” I tease, working a smile into place. “You always were a rebel.” The title was actually earned by Spring when she was in high school, but we like to think the rest of us can be unique in our own ways.
She laughs, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear when she looks down at the dress. “Figured this would be the last time I’d get to wear it before the chill of fall rolls in. Thanks again for giving it to me.”
“It’s prettier on you. You heading to the Honey Hive?” I cut around the top banister, leaning in the direction of the bedroom at the other end of the short hallway.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she tilts her head. “I need to run a few errands first. Hailey’s opening the shop, and I promised her a smoothie. I’m running behind. Nothing new. But I need to get going.” She gallops down the stairs but then calls back up, “How’s Brandon doing?”
I haven’t even made it to my bedroom yet . . . I turn back and lean over the railing. “How does everyone know about him being in the hospital?”
Her eyebrows peak when she looks up at me. “Ummm, did you forget where you live? That news traveled like wildfire. No pun intended.”
“I didn’t hear about the accident.”
With a quick pop of her shoulders, she says, “Probably because you shut down anyone who dares to utter his name. I don’t know why you hate him so much, but—”
“I don’t hate him.” Cocking her head sideways again, she stares at me as if I’m lying. “I don’t.” I shrug. “I just . . . I don’t know, but I don’t hate him, and he’s doing fine. He’ll recover.” I turn on my socked heels and go to my room.
Before the door closes, I hear her say, “My, oh, my. Someone put a bee in Fall’s bonnet, and I have a feeling it’s a certain laid-up firefighter.”
I shut the door because a response isn’t needed and the one I want to say shouldn’t be uttered. Stripping off my socks, I hop from one foot to the other, then start pulling my scrubs off. I enter the bathroom, drop my clothes in the hamper, and reach into the shower to turn on the water. Then I start my nighttime routine despite the morning sun trying its best to blast through the closed blinds.
The long shift left my skin pallid, needing some attention and care. The hospital's artificial lighting never did me any favors, and this is how Brandon saw me. Brandon? Why would I care what he thinks? Every question to check on me has a follow-up to include him. What is going on? Sure, it’s natural to be concerned about a friend of the family, but can I have a moment to myself?
I brush my teeth, searching my eyes for the irritation that flared through my veins earlier and is usually reserved for Ludlow. Brandon really shouldn’t bother me anymore. He didn’t during my shift, so what’s changed now that I’m home?
Easy. Everyone knew, but I didn’t. It’s that simple. I was purposely kept out of the loop like I’m heartless toward the man. Pfft.
I spit and rinse my mouth, hoping I can locate the more reasonable side of myself from earlier in my shift. He wasn’t awful to be around, and talking to him has been manageable. I don’t feel the usual aggravation when I see him, nor do I feel the need to avoid him. Granted, I couldn’t avoid him as it was my job to do the opposite.
Getting a closer look at my eyes, they’re tired but clear. Maybe it’s possible to see the situation with him clearer as well. I strip the rest of my clothes and step under the warm running water. The burden of annoyance buoyed around me all these years wasn’t really keeping me afloat anymore, but the weight is less after seeing him again. A fresh start comes to mind. Maybe it’s possible to leave the past in the past and move forward like we’re friends. Is that a possibility?
I wash my hair, letting the water pour down over my face. Tension eases from my shoulders, though my mind isn’t as relaxed.
What am I thinking? He doesn’t even remember me. I have no choice but to have a fresh start. A laugh bubbles up before I have a chance to stop it. This is silly. I’m overthinking something that doesn’t need to be thought about at all.
As I run conditioner through my hair, I realize I had everything figured out. Brandon was neatly situated in the pretend-he-never-existed compartment buried in the back of my head before I left for Boston. I return two days later, and the whole town has been flipped upside down because of him. My confusion and conflict are just a byproduct and should be the least of my concerns.