Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
When our sandwiches come, she waves goodbye after telling me she hopes to see me again this summer. I’m sure she will. I’ll be here, in Maple Creek, where I’ve always been.
I don’t have to be.
Mrs. Abernathy didn’t stay put. She had roots running deep here, but when life called her to be somewhere else, she went. What’s that saying? You’re not a tree. If you don’t like where you are, move. I could do that. I could do anything. Like travel.
“What’s California like?” I ask Ben, who promptly chokes on his turkey-and-swiss on fresh-made sourdough.
“What?” he forces out as he takes a drink of water.
At his reaction, I drop my eyes to my plate, pushing a chip around mindlessly. “I was thinking that I’ve never been anywhere, and now might be a chance to travel. I’ve never been to Los Angeles, so I’m curious what it’s like.”
Am I asking if I could come see Ben in his hometown? Yes. Am I doing it outright? Nope. That strong, confident girl I was has been hiding for a bit too long to cannonball into the deep end like that. But a gentle toe-dip is doable.
“It’s extremes,” he starts, looking like he’s trying to figure out how to describe life in LA. “There are people with ridiculous amounts of money you can’t comprehend and people who wake up not knowing what, when, or even if they’re going to be able to eat. There’s a power dynamic where everyone you meet is testing to see if you can do something for them. Like networking to the nth degree. The weather’s beautiful; there’s the beach, but I don’t go often—or ever, really—and you can get any type of food at any hour. Want sushi pizza at three in the morning? You got it. Oh, and make it gluten-free? No problem.” He shakes his head at what I think is an exaggeration.
“Is sushi pizza even a real thing?” I ask, laughing at the weird image in my head. “How does that work? Like, do you cook the pizza and then throw the raw fish on it?”
He laughs too. “I wouldn’t know.” Slowly, he straightens, then directly asks, “Would you think about coming out? To see me?”
I can see the shy boy he says he used to be in the way his fingers fidget with the napkin in his lap. As anxious as I am about asking, he’s equally nervous about it, which is kinda adorable, considering he’s completely amazing, and I’d go a hell of a lot farther than LA to see him again.
“You’re the only reason I’m asking about California, Ben. If you lived in Texas, I’d be wondering if I need to buy cowboy boots to come see you. If you lived in Seattle, it’d be rain boots. New York City? I don’t even know, but I would probably buy something for that too,” I tease. “So, uh, what do you think?”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he turns in his chair and arranges me between his spread knees. Gripping the back of my neck, he pulls me toward him, meeting me in the middle to place a firm, claiming kiss to my lips. It’s a better answer than I’d even hoped to receive.
I want to jump up and dance.
I want to throw my arms up in victory.
I want to shout from the rooftops that this incredible, understanding, caring, hot guy likes me, Hope Mercy Barlowe.
“Get your hands off her,” a sharp voice bites out. I jerk back to see Roy standing beside the table, holding a bouquet of red roses in a tightly clenched fist. His eyes are cold stone as he stares at Ben, not moving a muscle but looking like he’s on the verge of explosion.
“What are you doing here?” I sputter.
Roy shifts his glare to me, all but accusing me of doing something wrong, but I’m not. I know it’s soon, it’s fast, and it’s hurting him, and I’m truly sorry for that. But I can’t slow down or stop living my life for him. I won’t. Not anymore.
Chapter 18
BEN
Roy laughs, but there’s no joy, only harsh bitterness. “I saw you on the sidewalk and thought I’d get you flowers. Here . . .” He holds the bouquet out, inches from her face, and Hope lifts her hand slowly to take them. I don’t think she wants them, but she doesn’t know what else to do.
Right as she touches the crinkly plastic, Roy releases them and they drop to the floor at Hope’s feet. She gasps as he snarls at her, “Doesn’t seem right. I’m buying you shit while you’re kissing your ‘friend.’ That’s what you said he was, Hope. I knew I shouldn’t have believed you, but I kept telling myself you wouldn’t do this to me.”
He bangs on his chest, the thump hollow and deep.