Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I’ll never admit it, but he was right. Getting between two grown men who were fighting was stupid, and it’s a mistake I will never make again.
After going through my morning routine, I get dressed in a pair of cutoffs and a sweater and glance at the box on my dresser. I’m not ready to take some of my mom’s ashes with me and let a small piece of her go yet. Maybe in a few days.
I leave my room and head toward the beach that is a short walk from the hotel. Even with the sun out, the cold breeze that comes off the water has me questioning the shorts, but as I look at the people lining the beach, I know I’m the only one who feels that way. There are men and women in bathing suits, kids playing in the freezing pools of water that never seem to dry up, and dogs running up and down the sand.
Cutting my way across the beach, I head for Haystack Rock. The landmark shoots out of the water and sand, seeming out of place and alone, like it got cast out by the hills and mountains that stretch along the coast.
The first time I saw it in person, I got tears in my eyes. The photos Mom and I looked at online hadn’t done it justice.
As I’m passing a couple and a photographer taking their photo, I notice a familiar figure jogging in my direction. With the sun shining down on Roman, his dark-brown hair almost seems to glow with a hint of red, and without his shirt, I realize that the black tattoos I noticed on both his hands travel up his wrists and forearms and end near his collarbones. If I ever needed the visual representation of the classic bad boy moms warn their daughters to stay away from, I now have it.
When he’s about ten feet away, he slows to a walk while removing the earbuds from his ears. Shoving them in the pocket of his athletic shorts, he closes the distance between us while his eyes wander over my face.
“It doesn’t look too bad today.” He nods toward my cheek, his eyes locked on the spot that feels tender when my hair lightly brushes against it.
“If you’re waiting for me to tell you that it’s because of the ice, it will never happen.” His smile in response is small, but my heart stupidly picks up speed at the sight of it. I shift on my feet, then tell him quietly, “Thank you for the ibuprofen. If you tell me what it cost, I’ll give you the money back.”
“It was only a couple of bucks,” he mutters, tucking one hand into the pocket of his shorts, his other hand clenching the T-shirt he’s holding. I don’t know if it’s because he knows I know he’s the one who left them for me or because I offered to pay him back, but either way, he suddenly looks uncomfortable.
“Well…” I glance in the direction I was headed. “I’m going to check out the tide pools around Haystack Rock since I haven’t had a chance to really explore them when the tide’s been out. Have a—”
“Do you want some company?” He cuts me off, and I rub my lips together.
I should tell him no, but when I look into his eyes, I know I can’t. He’s just as lost as I am, maybe more so, and that makes me feel connected to him in some twisted way. Like we’re two ships lost in the neverending ocean and somehow came across each other.
“Sure,” I say quietly.
Dragging my eyes off his, I focus on my feet while he falls into step with me while putting on his T-shirt.
“How long have you been here?” he asks, and I glance up at him and find his gaze focused up the beach toward Haystack Rock.
“Five months.”
“And you’re still living at the hotel?”
“I never planned on sticking around, so there wasn’t a reason for me to find a permanent place in town,” I tell him as I bend to pick up a seashell sticking halfway out of the sand. The seashell is chipped along one side, but still somehow perfect.
“Are you still planning to leave?”
“Yes.” I tuck the shell in the pocket of my sweater as we continue walking. “My next stop is the Redwood Forest, and after that, the Golden Gate Bridge. Then Vegas and the Grand Canyon. I’ll probably stop for a while after that and find a job somewhere for a few months to make some money before I move on again.”
“Are you running from something?”
“No,” I tell him quietly, but it feels a lot like I’m lying. I tip my head back to look up at him, and he dips his chin to meet my gaze. “My mom passed away a little over six months ago.” Surprise and empathy filter through his eyes. “Before she passed away, we were going to visit all the places on her bucket list. We only made it to one, so I plan on leaving a little bit of her everywhere we never made it to.”