Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Because I know what it says. I feel it in my gut. And if I’m right, I need to get the hell out of here before it’s too late. Before I become a burden to everyone.
“No offense,” Fish says, “but I thought we were gonna talk about Palmer.”
Her name makes me smile. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what to say about her.”
“Let’s start with this—are you fucking her?”
“Fuck off,” I say, shaking my head.
“So that’s a yes. Good work, my man. I’d ask for details, but—”
“Don’t.”
He whistles through his teeth. “Enough said.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, cringing. “I just don’t . . . you know—she’s not the kind of girl you . . .”
“Wow. All right.” He gathers himself. “So is she a part of your sudden lack of interest in California?”
“No.” Maybe.
She could be.
She would be.
If only . . .
I give myself a moment to consider the possibility of staying in Bloomfield with Palmer and Ethan. Having dinners with my parents. Having a family.
Throwing the ball around with Ethan after school—if he continues to love the sport. Going to the grocery store. Mowing my own lawn.
I smile.
Waking up with Palmer and tucking Ethan in at night . . . maybe even having kids with Palmer someday.
All that would be incredible if I could add value to their lives. If I could bat cleanup. If I could be a contributing member of their team.
My breath holds in my chest, burning my lungs, until I gasp for air and then blow it out slowly.
“Any chance Palmer would move with you to the West Coast?” he asks.
Hot, churning bile sloshes in my stomach. I grimace at the discomfort.
“I don’t think so. She and her kid have roots here,” I say, as if it matters. Because it does matter. “Besides, that’s not gonna happen anyway.”
My jaw pulses at the admission. Because it’s true.
“Hey, Fish? I gotta go,” I add, hopping off the picnic table. “I’ll call you later this week.”
“Beck?”
“Yeah?”
He sighs. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m not going to hound you about it. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready.”
I close my eyes and nod.
“Talk to ya later, man.” He hangs up the phone.
I’m starting to walk toward the house when my screen lights up. I stop and look down.
Palmer:
Remember when I asked if I could trust you?
My fingers fly across the screen.
Me:
Yes.
Her answer comes instantly.
Palmer:
I’m trusting you.
I reread her words over and over again. “I’m trusting you.” Not sure what to say or how she means it, I text her a simple reply and put the ball in her court.
Me:
I’m glad.
Palmer:
Honestly, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t hope something would happen between us today. But I’d also be lying if I said that it didn’t make me super anxious.
Me:
Why? Are you okay?
Palmer:
I’m great. As you know, I just overthink things so now I’m sitting in my car after Ethan has already gone inside, worrying about how this might change things. So, I want you to know that I’m trusting you to be honest with me and to keep things safe between us.
My heart tightens.
This is one of the things that makes Palmer so different. Her frank honesty. It’s something I so rarely see, and it’s refreshing. I’d never betray that.
Me:
You’re always safe with me.
Palmer:
I believe that or else I would’ve stayed away from you.
Me:
You have my word that I won’t hurt either of you.
Palmer:
Good. I’m going to go inside now and fight with my kid about getting a shower.
Me:
Sounds fun. Thanks for a great day. I mean that.
Palmer:
I had a great time. I mean that too.
I have a million things I could say, a thousand directions to take the conversation, because with Palmer, it’s so easy. Instead, I text her good night and then head toward my parents’ house with a spring in my step and a craving for dessert. Not necessarily the one my mom made me, but it’ll have to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
PALMER
Hey, Palmer! Did you get that invoice about the Blue Bird buses over to Cutler?” Kirk shouts from his office.
“I did! Sent it first thing this morning. I called their office and asked them to expedite it to keep things moving. I’m supposed to hear back from them this afternoon.”
He pokes his head to the side so I can see his smiling face.
“I’ll let you know when they call,” I say, returning his smile.
I go back to the spreadsheet on my computer. It’s taken me most of the morning to add in all the functions, wrap the text, and enter the data to make it work. But it appears to be working, and that smells like a major victory.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’ll take it,” I say, dancing in my chair. I’m not sure if it’s the shaking of my hips or the words “what’s gotten into me” that makes me think of Cole, but a sudden wash of warmth floods my veins.