Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Are you asking for my advice, permission, or do you just need to talk this through out loud?”
“I love you,” I said with a huge grin.
Her shoulders relaxed as if my confession melted her. “Are you buttering me up?”
“No. I just wish my parents would say the things you say. I wish they’d let me figure things out on my own without feeling the need to control me and punish me for every wrong decision.”
“Well, in all fairness, I’ve seen more than they have. Your parents feel very invested in you. When you make a poor decision, they feel responsible.”
“But they’re not.”
She nodded. “I know. But letting go of control is hard. It’s scary.”
I frowned. “They just don’t want me to embarrass them.”
“They don’t want to see you experience pain. Parents are hardwired to keep their babies safe and out of pain—no matter the age. You will forever be a part of them, meaning it will be hard for them to see where they end and you begin. So you have two choices.”
“Which are?”
“You can walk the line, or you can build a fence along it so they have to stay on their side. And that’s part of growing up. But it also means they can no longer be there to save you. If you want to fly, you have to be willing to fall and even crash. But if you can do that and show them that your strength is greater than your mistakes and imperfections, they will see that they raised you right.”
I fiddled with the silver ring on my middle finger. “I have a huge crush on my neighbor.”
“The coach?”
I nodded.
“Oh dear.”
I nodded again. “Oh dear indeed. And I don’t know if he could ever think of me like anyone but his brother’s best friend's daughter, but I spend most of my waking hours dreaming about it.”
“He’s handsome.” She waggled her eyebrows, and it made me laugh.
“He is. But it’s more than that. He gets my humor. He matches it. And he thinks I remind him of himself when he was my age. His son is irresistibly cute. He loves to fish just like Grandpa did. And he thinks the apples in the orchard taste too sour to eat.”
Her face lit up because she’d told me long ago that I needed someone like Grandpa. He was a tough man with a gruff attitude, except with her. Grandpa always said his Bonnie was his weakness. He said he only had one life to live, but he’d die a million deaths for her.
“I don’t think that’s a line you can walk,” she said.
I shook my head. “No. It’s definitely a fence I’d have to build.”
“You’re young,” she murmured, tipping her chin to focus on a new row of stitches. “Are you prepared to live on the other side by yourself?”
“Sarah did. She chose love.”
“Is it love that you have?”
“Can I get back to you on that?”
She smirked without looking up at me. “You know where I’ll be.”
I slid off the bed and squatted before her, resting my hands on hers. “Is there anything you need? Are they still being good to you here?”
She got a little teary-eyed when I asked that, and I asked it every time. Her hand pressed to my cheek. “Yes, my dear. Thank you.”
During the following days, I lived for winks and smiles, extended glances, and every butterfly Kyle stirred to life in my tummy. I surprised him with apple crisp on Wednesday and muffins on Thursday.
However, on Friday, he surprised me, and I discovered I didn’t like surprises.
“Do you have plans tonight?” He baited me.
Every cell in my body took on my heartbeat from anticipating his next question. I stayed calm and offered a slight headshake as I followed him to the door that morning. He only had one practice that day.
“Would you watch Josh this evening?”
It took my foolish heart a few extra seconds to register his words. “Um, sure. Why? I didn’t think your first game was until next week.”
“It’s not,” he said, opening the back door. “Your mom called last night and asked if I knew how to install a toilet. Then she asked if I’d install one for Denise Overton in exchange for dinner.”
“My mom’s making you dinner so you’ll install a toilet for Denise?”
He returned a funny grin. “No. Denise is making me dinner.”
That’s what I feared.
“A date?”
“No. A toilet installation and food.”
I frowned. “You’re so naïve. It’s a date. My mom mentioned three women on the prowl, and Denise was one of them. She probably doesn’t even need a new toilet.”
“It would be easier and cheaper to ask me out on a date than to pretend she needs a new toilet.” He headed out the back door. “I’ll see you later.”
No. He wouldn’t see me later; he would see Denise and her new toilet later. I followed him to his truck.