Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Life had taught me that lesson the painful way.
Sitting in my rental car, I glanced one last time at the envelope with the address on it and double-checked the number on the small four-family building. I was already drawing a few curious stares, so I got out, took a deep breath, and made my way up the steps to the porch. On the third ring of the doorbell, a woman in her mid-fifties opened the door. She wore a stained oversized t-shirt with a large POLO logo written on it, and a suspicious frown as she checked me out.
“Can I help you?” she said in an irritated tone.
A redheaded boy, maybe nine, poked his head out to get a look at me and my gaze dropped. Was this Josh’s son? They didn’t look alike but that didn’t mean anything.
“I hope so. I’m looking for an old family friend. His name is Josh Martin, and this is the last address I have for him…” Reticence clung to her face. “…it’s kind of important.”
She gave me another once-over with her hard brown eyes. “He’s my landlord…” At some point, she must have determined that I wasn’t a threat because she added, “He lives on the nice side of town. On Maple Street. White house on the corner.”
My face lit up and my stomach flipped. After all these years. After all the money I had spent looking for him. I was one step closer and all the more nervous.
Five minutes later, I was parked across the street and sat in the car summoning strength. The house was beautiful. A white ranch-style home with dark blue shutters and a wraparound porch. There was an enormous oak tree off to the side with a tire swing and a white fence edged with rose bushes. It was out of a fairy tale. Josh had done well for himself. This could have been us.
Scott: Call me when you can. Just want to make sure you’re okay. xx
As soon as Scott’s text came in, the thought made me feel disloyal. He’d given me the best gift one person could give another––he’d given me the gift of selflessness. He was prepared to give me up if making me happy meant I would leave him for Josh and he hadn’t balked. It’s then that I realized I’d never loved anyone more. Nor would I ever love like that again.
I started the rental and put it in drive, took one last look at Josh’s house. I’d hoped he was happy, hoped he’d forgiven me. As I eased my foot off the brake pedal, the front door opened and a woman stepped out. She was tall and pretty, with long auburn hair and a runner’s body. Behind her was a boy in a baseball uniform, nearly a teenager.
“Can we get pizza tonight?” he said to his mother. His voice carried into my open window.
“We had pizza two nights ago,” his mother reminded him. “Dad’s grabbing burgers and chicken wings on the way home. Which do you want?”
The boy was staring at his phone while she hit the security button on her Expedition. “Cameron, I said which do you want?”
“Burgers,” he absently answered, his attention consumed by whatever was on his phone. He smiled and his braces glimmered in the sunlight.
Sensing the scrutiny, she glanced over at me, her brow bunching in question. I pulled the car away from the curb. I’d gotten the answers I came for. I’d worried needlessly for years. Josh was more than fine…he was thriving. A huge weight lifted off my chest and took the corners of my mouth with it.
On my way to the airport, I stopped to get gas in town. In the meantime, I called Scott. It went straight to voicemail.
“I’m on my way home. I’ll see you soon,” I said with a goofy grin and a deep sense of peace settling in my chest. It was such a unique feeling I couldn’t equate it to anything else I’d ever felt. I placed the pump back, screwed the lid back on the gas tank.
“Sydney,” a man called out. I looked up, looked across the roof of my rental car, and met Josh’s stunned expression.
Scott: We’re at the Million. It’s Drake’s birthday tomorrow but we’re celebrating tonight.
“Mrs. Blackstone,” Ryan intoned upon seeing me walk through the door of the bar. I’d come straight from the airport. Wyoming was probably the only place you could leave a Mercedes G-Wagon in a lot and not worry it would be there when you returned. I threw him a big smile and scanned the packed-to-the-max bar.
“Everybody’s in the back, near the pool tables”––he hooked a thumb in that direction––“I’ve gotta make a call, but head over.”
Pushing through the mass of bodies, the table where all the Lazy S employees were seated came into view. Everyone looked to be having a good time, the tabletop littered with empty glasses and bottles. Spotting Drake, I walked up and wished him a happy twenty-second birthday. He tapped his lips, asking for a kiss.