Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
I closed my eyes, my whole body sagging.
Did I still love him? I barely knew him anymore.
Did I find him sexy and sweet and witty and gentle and funny and protective? Absolutely, but did that constitute love? It was obvious I didn’t hate him anymore, but love wasn’t the opposite of hate. I had love for him. It wasn’t like I wanted anything bad to happen to him. Actually, I wanted him to live a life of happiness and freedom. He’d been through hell and back too many times.
But love?
Like, love love?
“I don’t know. I love Truett from the past. This guy… I have no clue. We’ve had like ten conversations, one kiss, and some seriously incredible sex.”
“Well, if you want my opinion, I don’t like it,” Dylan said bluntly. “I’ve wanted to cut that man’s balls off for years. Jeff sucked, I hated him, but I think I might hate Truett more.”
Angela’s head swiveled toward Dylan, her eyes bugging. “There’s no way you hate Truett more than Jeff. Truett broke Gwen’s heart, but he didn’t do it on purpose. Can you even imagine everything he’s had to deal with? He was broken too. Jeff shattered her spirit though. That asshole relished in being the one to beat her down. There’s no competition between the two. Jeff wins at being the worst, hands down.”
Dylan shrugged. “All the more reason to scrap ’em both. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
My chest got tight. “What if I don’t want anybody else?”
Angela narrowed her eyes. “Is that what you’re scared of? That you won’t feel this way for anyone else?”
A tear slid down my cheek. “No. I’m afraid I’ll lose eighteen more years with him because I’m too scared he’ll hurt me again to take the chance that he won’t.”
The room filled with sympathetic sighs.
It was Lucille who once again put things into perspective. “Listen, you have to protect yourself. Only you can decide if the reward is worth the risk. But what’s gonna hurt more? Giving it a chance and it not working out? Or never trying and spending the rest of your life wondering what could have been?”
My head swam, indecision paralyzing me. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Think about it. Is he your number three? Because if so, you owe it to yourself to give it a whirl. Number three wasn’t perfect, but that man was mine. Sounds to me like maybe Truett is yours too. Gargoyle warts and all.”
I laughed. Leave it to the most outrageous woman to live in Belton to also be the wisest friend I had.
“Warts?” Angela muttered. “Gross.”
Dylan gagged. “Okay, if warts are involved, we have far bigger problems. Do I need to make you a doctor’s appointment?”
Truett’s deep timbre rang in my ears. “I have never, not ever, not for one fucking second of my entire Godforsaken life, stopped loving you.”
I sat there, thinking back to the first night at The Grille. I’d gone to him when Nate hit him with that spitball instead of letting Lucille handle the cleanup. That wasn’t something you did for someone you hated.
When he’d shown up the first Wednesday after The Grille closed, frantic to get inside, I’d opened that door and had an entire conversation with him, rough as it might have been. I didn’t have to do that.
When he’d sat outside in the rain, I could have left him alone, but I went to him and invited him inside.
I’d worried about him when Folly had shown up and rushed to his side.
I’d kept the booth and offered him an open invitation to come back.
I’d made him a club sandwich so he’d feel comfortable.
I’d tried to protect him when Folly had shown up taking pictures.
I’d driven him home and given him a key to the restaurant.
I’d asked him to kiss me, and then only two days later, I came, crying his name.
No. The opposite of hate was not love. It was indifference. And never, not one day in my life had I ever been indifferent to Truett West.
“I think he’s my number three,” I admitted, the words flying from my mouth like they’d spent eighteen years poised on the tip of my tongue.
Lucille let out a loud clap and slung her arm around my shoulders. “That’s my girl.”
“I have no idea what that means.” Angela looked at Dylan. “Do you know what that means?”
Dylan shrugged. “No clue. But it sounds like a good thing. I’m sure, if you give it a second, the motor mouth of Belton will fill us in.”
“Long story,” Lucille answered. “I’ll explain later, but now that we’ve got that sorted, let’s get to the good stuff. We’re going to need all the dirty details. Don’t you go leaving anything out, either. I want to know what he smelled like, how loud you were, and how many times that man got you off.”