Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Ozzy x
“Ozzy . . .” I don’t even know what to say.
He turns and heads up the walkway, glancing over his shoulder with a triumphant smile.
I climb into my RAV. “Enough with the smirk, Oswald,” I mumble to myself. “I’m already falling for you. What more do you want?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ozzy
When I shut the front door, Tia steps out of her bedroom in her blue robe and moccasin slippers. “Is your friend gone?”
“Yes. Maren just left.” I head into the kitchen, and Tia follows me. She’s at least four feet away, but I still feel her breathing down my neck.
“I hope you’re not giving Lola the wrong idea,” she says, scooping her fiber powder into a glass of water while I grab an apple from the hanging basket by the fridge.
“The wrong idea about what?” I bite into the apple.
“I realize men and women can be friends, but Lola likes to let her mind wander. We need to keep reminding her that she is your only concern—your number one priority.” Tia stirs her concoction, pinning me with a firm gaze.
I chew slowly for a few seconds before swallowing. “Lola is and always will be my number one priority. I don’t think she’s confused about that.”
“She might get confused if she sees you giving attention to pretty women.”
“Are you implying Lola is insecure?”
Tia takes several gulps of her fiber drink before rubbing her lips together. “I’m implying she doesn’t live in the real world.”
I chuckle. “How do you figure?”
“She can’t get over Brynn’s death. She won’t get into a car. And everyone around her is allowing her to make up her own version of reality. So if she likes your friend and decides your friend should be more than a friend, I fear you’ll let it happen. But it won’t end well because raising that girl is a full-time job. Why do you think Amos and I are living with you?”
“How am I letting her make up her own version of reality?”
“By riding your goddamn bike everywhere. It’s time for you to stand up to her. Get in a car like a man to prove that her world won’t end.” She lifts her glass to her lips.
“What if it does end? What if she loses me? How much is too much?”
Tia continues drinking. When the glass is empty, she sets it in the sink and stares at it with a focused gaze. “If you die, her world won’t end.”
“No?” I take another bite of the apple and chew it. “But will her world be a place she wants to live in? Will she be happy? Or will she live with even more debilitating isolation? Will she refuse to leave the house? Will she end up in a psych ward or be heavily medicated for the rest of her life? Everyone has a different breaking point. I don’t want to find her breaking point. I want to empower her.”
Tia scowls at me, but she doesn’t speak.
“She’ll get back to riding in a car,” I say. “And when she does, she’ll feel empowered. If you can’t stay, then I’ll figure something out. But I can’t test her breaking point because as much as I’m her whole world, she is even more so mine.” I stop short of saying the rest: Maren has become an important person in my life too. I need help, and Tia and Amos are the best help for now. So I’ll continue to walk this thin line and deal with the future if and when it comes.
“You can’t ask us to watch you pursue another woman. Brynn was our daughter and . . .” Tia swallows hard, eyes reddening. “You just can’t ask that of us,” she whispers before returning to her bedroom.
This is not just about Lola. It’s been two years, and I’ve never looked for someone to date. Brynn continues to live in my mind. I think about her every single day.
I miss her every day.
But as sure as Tia can’t help how she feels about me showing interest in another woman, I can’t pretend I don’t know Maren. I can’t pretend that I don’t have strong feelings for her.
My alarm makes a chiming sound at five on Friday morning. It’s the least-annoying sound on my phone, but it’s not how I used to wake up each morning.
Brynn was an early riser—up at five every morning for a long jog. She called it “getting her mind organized” for the day. She woke me by six—showered and filling the bedroom with the sweet rosewater scent of her conditioner.
This morning, I spent thirty minutes lifting weights, ten minutes showering and brushing my teeth, and two minutes changing my sheets on the hopeful chance that Maren wasn’t lying about knocking on my window at six.
Do I wear a shirt or stick to my briefs since that’s what I sleep in? Could I be more of a girl about this? Fussing over what to wear. I’m an idiot.