Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Congratulations, Mom. You were right about that.
Squaring my shoulders, I went to let Elliott out of the car. “Come on, honey.”
He hopped out of the car and took my hand, and together we made our way up the cement walk, where dandelions and prickly weeds grew up through the cracks. I was a little nervous about stepping onto the porch, but upon closer inspection it did appear the boards would hold us. From my purse, I dug out the key the property manager had sent me, cursing his name under my breath.
Pushing the front door open, we stepped into the house.
“Ew. It stinks in here.” Elliott held his nose. “Can I wait outside?”
“Stay on the porch,” I said. “I’ll be out in one minute.”
After checking out the kitchen, which I immediately regretted, I went upstairs to peek at my old bedroom—in addition to the missing window, the closet door was off the hinges, and there was a seriously creepy fist-sized hole in one wall. The other bedroom was in slightly better shape, but the bathroom, with its rusty sink and stained toilet made me wonder if I should just burn the place to the ground and walk away.
Outside, I took Elliott’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go see if Beckett’s home. And if he’s not, we’ll head into town for lunch.”
I drove back to Beckett’s, turning into the driveway beneath a huge arch that said WEAVER RANCH overhead. After parking in front of the three-car garage, we followed a stone walkway that led to the home’s front entrance. It was lined with cheerful yellow daffodils and vibrant green hostas, and on either side of the wide wooden front door was a potted bleeding heart. I pointed at the welcome mat. “Can you read that?”
Elliott looked at it. “Love grows here.”
“Good job.” Smiling, I knocked three times.
When no one answered, I pulled out my phone and texted Beckett. Hey! I’m at your front door. We’re a little early, sorry. Traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be on a Friday morning.
When he didn’t answer my text, I knocked again. A dog began barking inside.
Elliott looked up at me and whispered, “I hear a dog.”
“Me too. But maybe no one is—”
Just then, the thick front door was pulled open, and Beckett’s father appeared, a black and white Border Collie at his heels. Mr. Weaver had aged considerably since the last time I’d seen him—so much that it shocked me. His hair was completely white and sticking up a little on one side, like he’d been lying down. It also seemed like he’d shriveled a little bit—I remembered him as big and burly—but I recognized his blue eyes.
“Mr. Weaver?” I said, smiling. “Hi. It’s Maddie Blake.”
He looked confused. “Mallory?”
For a moment, I felt confused too—then I thought maybe he was mistaking me for Beckett’s sister Mallory, who also had dark hair.
“No, Maddie.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Maddie Blake? I used to live across the road. I was a friend of Beckett’s?”
Something flickered, and I thought it might be recognition. “Are you here to take me to the train station?”
I blinked. “No, I—uh, I’m here with my son Elliott, and—”
“Can he take me to the train station?” Mr. Weaver asked hopefully.
Elliott started to giggle.
“What? No.” Flustered, I elbowed my kid, trying to get him to stop laughing. “Maybe we’ll just come back later when—”
“Dad!” boomed a deep voice from inside. “What are you doing at the door?”
Mr. Weaver turned toward the voice, pushing the door open wider. That’s when I saw Beckett coming down the stairs.
In nothing but a towel.
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t help it.
Beckett had always been attractive, with an athlete’s build and a boyishly handsome face, but time had been incredibly good to him.
His jaw had grown more chiseled, his cheekbones more defined. My eyes wandered hungrily over his bare skin. His shoulders were wide, his biceps bulged, and his chest and abs were an anatomical study in muscle definition. His hair appeared darker than it used to be, and the skin on his face and forearms was slightly more golden thanks to all the time he spent in the sun, but his eyes were the same soft blue I remembered. When they caught mine, I found it a little hard to breathe.
But then, I’d always found it a little hard to breathe around Beckett. I was just good at hiding it.
Hitting the foot of the stairs, he stopped and stared. “Maddie,” he said. “You’re here.”
“Hi.” My skin felt sweaty beneath my jeans and T-shirt. “I’m sorry to just show up this way. We went to the house, and it’s such a mess, I—”
“No, it’s okay. Give me one minute.” He pulled the towel a little tighter around his hips. “Dad, can you please show Maddie in? I’m going to get dressed, and I’ll be right down.”