Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“It gets windy around here,” Steve remarked.
“It’s an estimate, not a contract. A girl’s gotta keep her options open,” I quipped so quickly that I almost felt like me for a second.
The edges of Steve’s mouth quirked up as he took notes. “Give me a couple days and I’ll get the estimates over to you.” He shook our hands, and when he got to mine, his gaze darted toward the truck, which I still hadn’t managed to get into the boathouse that would serve as its garage. I’d tried twice after the moving company had unloaded her but couldn’t bring myself to open the driver’s door. “Something that big can be a little impractical out here on the islands unless you’re in my line of work. Any chance you’re looking to unload it? I’d give you a fair price.”
My heart galloped, and every hint of sass that had risen to my surface since the Hello Kitty incident sank like a block of cement in that huge ocean behind me.
“She’s not for sale.” The words came out in a strained half whisper.
“Okay, well, if you change your mind.” He turned to talk to Jackson about some upcoming festival or something I immediately tuned out.
I pivoted to look at my house, barely registering when Jackson left for his own.
Once Joey started up the stairs, I followed, pausing on the piece of plywood I’d cut myself with the new saw she had recommended I purchase this morning from the only hardware store on the island.
Sure, it was a little loose and undeniably imperfect, but it was proof I could do this. I’d be okay when Sam left in a few days. I could repair this house. Repair myself.
Jackson and Finley raced down the stairs of their house with battle cries, and I looked up in time to see Finley hit Jackson square in the chest with a spray from her massive water gun.
“Ha! Got ya!” she shouted.
He fell to his knees in the sand, exaggerating his death for a moment before spraying her legs when she came in for a second shot.
She squealed, taking off through the backyard, and he quickly followed over the dune to the beach.
I smiled at how happy they were. It was as simple as that. Sam was right; here, there were no expectations on how long it took me to recover myself. Here, I could have a moment where I missed Will like hell and still smile a breath later. No one was judging.
Here, I could fix my stair— Wait.
The board didn’t shift those centimeters when I moved my feet like it had this morning. I peered closer and saw that there were a few screws next to the nails I’d hammered in. Screws I knew I hadn’t used, because I didn’t own a drill. Yet.
Maybe Joey had guaranteed my handiwork while I’d gone to see Dr. Circe. It would make sense, seeing as she knew way more about building stuff than I did.
I climbed to the deck and looked out over the beach, past the shadows creeping toward the ocean from the late-afternoon sun.
As Finley sprinted into the water, Jackson ran behind her, grasping her waist and spinning her low enough for her toes to skim the water. I heard her laughter and felt it echo in my chest, somewhere in the vicinity of where I used to think my heart was. I wanted to be that happy, to find joy in…something.
He turned in my direction, and I knew it was impossible—the distance was too great—but I could have sworn our eyes locked and held for a moment.
And as certain as I was that he’d catch Finley when he tossed her up in the air, I knew he’d secured the board.
But it didn’t make me feel infantilized or undermined.
Oh no, it was worse than that.
It made me feel protected, and that scared the crap out of me. But that little spark of yearning I felt as I watched Jackson and Finley play in the ocean? That was terrifying.
…
“Maybe it makes me a bitch, but I’m kind of glad everyone left yesterday.” Sam handed me a cup of coffee and sat across from me the next day, stretching her legs out in front of her on the sun-warmed deck.
“Thanks,” I said and took a sip. “I am, too. I mean, I’m glad they came, and I’m thankful, but I’ve gotten used to quiet.” Once Sam had moved out, I hadn’t taken another roommate. I’d grown to crave the silent hours I had at home.
“Do you want me to go? I absolutely can,” Sam offered.
“No, please stay. It’s different being around you.” The wind ruffled the spiral notebook pages next to me.
“I can stay longer, too, you know.” She tilted her face at the sun. “If you need someone—I’m here. I don’t start grad school until the fall, and it’s not like Grayson is waiting for me at home in Colorado.”