Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
The fact that he'd even asked me for permission was enough.
The fact that he’d made perfect sense made it even harder.
They were going to have a honeymoon before the funeral. Depressing, inspiring, call it whatever you wanted.
And I couldn’t be angry that he selfishly wanted that time with his wife. Given the choice, I would do the same.
“Fine.” Hazel jolted me out of my thoughts and buckled her seat belt, snapping it into its spot with finality. “Let’s just go. Let’s camp, explore wildlife. Maybe we can befriend a fox and then come back and tell everyone how magical it was.” She pushed her hands together. “We could burst out in song. I mean, a small one, nothing too crazy, and then boom, we go our separate ways, everyone’s happy, and the dads don’t take away all the things we need to survive. Done.”
“I’m already surviving,” I pointed out as we pulled out of the driveway. I mentally made a checklist of all the supplies we had and what we still needed to pick up. Hazel thought this was some sort of lying down of arms, when really, I knew what it actually was.
An excuse for my dad to have one last moment with my mom.
I’d let Hazel believe it was because of her weird costume and pranks, but I knew my dad had seen an opening, an opportunity, the minute he came home. Assuming my dad was as close to hers as he claimed, Travis likely felt the same way.
Sending your kids away so you could have special moments with your soulmate before everyone came back and prepared for the worst.
I shook the dark thoughts from my head. “You’re milking.”
“A cow?” she shrieked.
“No, life,” I deadpanned.
“I’m not. I went to college, I graduated, I’m going to start working and—“
“Did you pay for it? College? Did you even think for one second how hard it is for others to even go to college, let alone sit there all smug like—“
“She died!” Hazel yelled, making me suddenly swerve into oncoming traffic as I tried to pull onto the highway. “My great-grandma died while I was trying to pass my last business class to graduate, so don’t preach to me about how hard things are. Yes, it’s hard financially for a lot of people, but don’t for one second forget how hard it is for those who go through emotional trauma while trying to survive. Now, drive.”
“Finally.” I hit the accelerator, ignoring how her words hit so deeply that I felt as if she’d bruised my chest. She knew my mom was sick. She had no clue how bad things were or that we’d been given such a short time before she passed unless a miracle happened.
One thing I could appreciate about our doctor was that he was always brutally honest. I’d rather be given the truth than a lie that would leave me unaware. And unprepared.
I cleared my throat. I was uncomfortable and suddenly emotional. I almost wished the stupid costume was back. “That’s something we can agree on. The emotional trauma is worse. It’s always worse.”
“Like anxiety,” she agreed.
“Like knowing you can do nothing but have to keep trying.”
“Because if you stop…” She sniffed. “It means they died in vain.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.” She looked out the window. “Keep driving. I’m going to close my eyes. Try to go in straight lines, August.”
“I color outside of them.”
Her eyes were closed, but she smiled and hugged her chest with her arms. “Yeah, this is my shocked face.”
“It’s a pretty face.”
“Was that a compliment from my high school nemesis?”
“Never.” I grinned and hit the accelerator. “I’ll wake you up when we stop at the store before the campsite I normally go to. I hope you packed warm.”
“Blankets and jackets.” She yawned. “Oh, and a light stick. I grabbed one of those.”
“To throw at the bear when it attacks you or what?”
She didn’t answer. Within seconds, she was already asleep, her head lolling to the side. Smiling, I reached over and gently pushed her toward the door so she could rest against something, then jerked my hand away.
No. Just no. She was pretty, and sometimes she was nice when she wasn’t trying to sneak into my house or offend me, but she wasn’t for me.
I sometimes wondered if I would ever have enough actual space in my heart to take someone else on. Other times, I was reminded that the minute my mom died, I’d have a vacancy, but it was more like a foreclosure on my soul. One that said nothing would ever exist there again and nobody would want to buy it.
What was dead and gone was dead and gone, and sometimes it was best to leave memorials for those people rather than risk getting hurt by filling the hole and losing someone all over again.