Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Why did I want to know her so much?
Why did I want to be near her?
I didn’t know what to say. I could tell she was self-conscious of her breakdown, yet that was the last thing I wanted her to feel. I knew what it was like to fall apart. I just did it in the privacy of my own space when no one was looking.
“That was really embarrassing.” She lightly laughed, wiping at her swollen eyes.
“It’s all right.”
She tossed her hands in the air and shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’m humiliated, and you probably think I’m a silly woman for breaking like that.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, I do,” she said, tapping her chest. “I feel like I’m broken. Most people love their birthdays.”
“I think they’re overrated.”
She chuckled. “Well, of course you do, Mr. Grump.”
I smiled.
She smiled back.
That felt right.
“I don’t even know what to do right now, though. Dinner’s ruined, and I totally messed up your apology, which I do accept, by the way. But now, I’m standing here like an idiot without a clue how to move forward.”
“Well…” I sighed as I slid my hands into my pockets. I raised an eyebrow. “Might I suggest fishing?”
We sat on the boat, not talking for a while, with our lines cast out into the water. It was a quieter night. I hadn’t caught anything. Willow hadn’t either, but that seemed her norm. I’d actually never met a person who went so long without having one single bite.
“You were right, you know,” Willow said. “About me not being as happy as I pretend to be.”
I grimaced. “I didn’t want to be right about that.”
“Yeah…but you were.” She took a deep breath. “My mother died during childbirth. I was born the day she took her last breath, and I think that did a number on me.”
So that was why she hated her birthday.
I placed my rod down and walked over toward her. I sat beside her and kept my eyes locked with hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. But I think I need to.”
“I’m listening if you’re talking.”
She placed her rod down and put her hands on her lap. “I hate traveling so much. I hate moving from city to city, meeting person after person, and trying to feel as connected to humanity as possible. But when I do it, I smile like I’m happy.”
“You don’t have to keep moving around.”
“Yes,” she disagreed, “I do. Because if I go home to Honey Creek, the place I want to be the most, I’m reminded daily of the mistakes I’ve made and the people who lost their loved ones because of me.”
“Willow…what happened with your mother wasn’t your fault.”
“Logically, I hear you. But mentally? Emotionally?” She placed her hand over her chest. “I blame myself daily. On top of that, there was the accident with my best friend…” She shook her head. “My former best friend, Anna.”
“What happened with Anna?”
She fiddled with her hands. “When we were eighteen, I was in a dark place. It was my birthday week, and I was in my head too much. I missed my mom,” she choked out, “but I tried to cover it up by being a free spirit. On my birthday, I was the life of the party at a random get-together with a ton of kids my age. Anna went with me and danced all night. She loved to dance. I know I love to dance, but Anna loved to dance way more…” Her silent moments felt so loud. I wondered if she’d ever spoken about these scars out loud or if they solely lived in the darkest parts of her memories. “Anna didn’t want to go to the party, but she’d known me since I was five years old. She knew I wasn’t okay with it being my birthday week. So she came. She danced and partied because she couldn’t stand the idea of me being secretly sad on my birthday around others who couldn’t see through my fake happiness. She saw me like you did, and it was my least favorite trait of hers. I was so good at pretending to be happy that it was scary when others could quietly see the sad.”
“What happened to Anna? Why are you no longer friends?”
“After the party, I insisted on driving home. I was drunk and stupid, but she wouldn’t let me. She didn’t drink, so she took my keys. She probably saved my life that night, thinking about it. But as she was driving us home, I accidentally distracted her by spilling a whole water bottle across her lap. As she went to somewhat dry herself off, another car slammed into us. The people driving the other truck were at the same party as we were—but they didn’t have a good friend who took their keys. Anna, um…” This time, Willow covered her mouth. I waited patiently. “She was paralyzed from the waist down. I walked away with a few bruises. The two in the other car, Eric and Carter, didn’t make it. After the accident, Anna’s mother came up to me and privately told me I should leave Honey Creek. That I was a cruel reminder to the families of Eric and Carter for what happened. And that I’d be a daily reminder to Anna about how I took her life away from her. So that’s why I keep traveling. Because I don’t really have a place to call home anymore.”