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 doesn’t respond right away. But after a few minutes, he releases a deep sigh. “I couldn’t work after Brynn died. Cielo had just hired me, but I couldn’t work because Lola needed me. I can’t look at her and not see Brynn because Lola is a spitting image of her. And I can’t not think of the accident because Lola wears it on her face. So last fall, when Tia and Amos suggested they sell their ranch and come live with us so I could return to work, I felt this huge weight lift from my chest. And it didn’t matter that they had their issues with me. It didn’t matter that I knew living with them would feel like I was less of a father and a man. I just needed something that didn’t remind me of the tragedy.”
He grunts while shaking his head and pouring paint into the roller pan. “How messed up is it that I needed time away from the most important person in my life? What does that say about me?”
“Ozzy—”
“No.” He cuts me off with a painful laugh. “It was a rhetorical question. I know I deserve time alone. I know I need it. I had to have this conversation with Lola before this weekend. You get to this point where you know you can no longer swim, so you have two choices: drown or yell for help. I’m learning to yell for help because I don’t want to drown. Lola needs me, and I want to believe that I have a lot of life left to live at thirty-six.”
I hand him the roller. “Ozzy, I think you’ve been living your best life over the past five hours.”
He barks a laugh before cupping the back of my neck and kissing me. Then he releases my lips but keeps a hold of me, gazing intently into my eyes. “I needed you so fucking long before I ever met you,” he whispers. “You showed up out of nowhere, the way I bet your plane cuts through the smoke to deliver relief. I have felt so much relief since I met you.”
We’re going to finish painting this room before having sex again, but right now, I’m the one who wants to tear off our clothes and spend hours in bed with him because no man has ever made me feel this way.
So. In. Love.
Sunday morning, Ozzy brings me breakfast in bed with six dandelions and a note.
Please don’t judge. These aren’t yard weeds. Dandelions are edible and nutritious and a sign of healthy soil. They symbolize happiness, joy, resilience, and perseverance—and a bunch of other wonderful things. Hope you love them!
Ozzy x
I glance up from the note. “I think the only flower you ever need to give me is the mighty dandelion.”
Ozzy laughs.
“Where’s our breakfast?” I ask.
“Under the sheets.” He winks.
After my breakfast and his, we get to work around the house.
We install the LED strip lights in Lola’s freshly painted room; then he finishes fixing the car. After lunch, we head to the backyard to plant Tia’s seedlings.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He chuckles, running a box cutter through the top of the compost bag while I loosen last year’s garden soil with a hoe. I’m sure Ozzy looks like sin in a suit, but I can’t get enough of him in ripped, faded jeans, stained T-shirts, and dirty boots.
“It must be something heavy,” he says. “I’ve noticed that you ask me if you can ask me something before you delve into a heavy subject. But you can ask me anything. No permission or preamble needed.”
“Where were you when the accident happened?”
He pauses for a few seconds, eyebrows pinched. Then he sets the box cutter aside and spreads the compost. “Too fucking far away.”
I work the compost into the soil with the hoe, but I don’t look at him, because I know he’s not looking at me. There are stages of confession.
Thinking it.
Saying it.
And looking someone in the eye. That’s the hardest one.
I still avert my gaze when talking about my brother. Other people’s sympathy unravels my emotions.
“I was in Las Vegas for a bachelor party. My mom called and . . .” He shakes his head slowly before tossing aside the empty bag and opening another one. “I don’t remember how I made it home. My buddies somehow got me on a plane and then to the hospital. Lola was in surgery. Brynn and my dad were—”
I pause my motion. “Your dad?”
“Yeah.” He scatters the compost and takes the hoe from me, keeping busy while I try to remember if he ever told me about his dad. Ozzy clears his throat while the lines etched along his forehead deepen. “He was in the car too.”
“Was he driving?”
Ozzy shakes his head, and I wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. I’m left with many new questions, but asking them would feel like forcing him to share more than he’s ready to say.