Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I accidentally grabbed your whole file, so don’t let it blow away,” Carmen said. “Just sign the top ones and drop everything off to George once you get back in camp.”
I nodded, flipping through the stack of releases. The last one caught my eye. It was my entry form from the competition.
My chest tightened. That wasn’t Weston’s handwriting. And the signature…
I spun toward the water, shoving the releases back into the file. Why hadn’t I thought to ask about it sooner? I’d assumed the release had been one of those typed entries—those on-your-honor signatures, but it wasn’t. My name had been scrawled across the form in a familiar slant.
Sutton ran out of the water, and I grabbed a beach towel from the bag, wrapping it around her to dry her off.
“Having fun?” I asked her, keeping the rest of my questions behind my teeth. If she had a reason, I wanted her to tell me on her own.
“I like the ocean.” She smiled, but it felt forced, like she was putting on a show for me. “I mean, it’s not as great as the mountains, but I like it. Can we go back to the house now?”
I stared into my daughter’s eyes and nodded. “Sure. We can go back to the house.”
She didn’t call it home, and I couldn’t blame her. Home was thousands of miles away.
“I want to go home.”
“I’m sorry?” My gaze jumped across the wooden kitchen table to Sutton a couple of days later, and I squeezed the syrup bottle a little too hard, flooding her pancakes with way too much sugar. She’d wanted waffles, but it wasn’t like we were carting a waffle iron around with us in our packs. Then again, she’d been grumpy since waking up this morning, probably because we were due to pack up again tomorrow and move, this time inland.
We shared this house with three other photographers, two of whom had brought their kids, but no one else was up yet, so at least I could handle this in relative privacy.
“I want to go home,” she repeated.
I stared at her and she stared right back, lifting her chin an inch. There may as well have been a black cloud hanging above my daughter’s head.
She fisted her fork like she was preparing for battle.
“Are you having trouble making friends?” I pushed a glass of orange juice at her, which only reminded me of Weston. Freaking everything reminded me of Weston. “I thought you and Milo were getting along pretty well.”
“I don’t want to make friends.” The fork hit the plate.
“Okay.” I pushed the sleeves of my Madigan Mountain hoodie up my forearms. It would be too hot for it in a few hours, but it was still my favorite piece of clothing. “Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t want to make friends because I don’t want to stay here.” She shoved her hair out of her face. “And you don’t have to come with me, Mom. I know this is your dream job, but I want to go home. Back to our house, and my friends, and everything I love.”
I tried not to take that last part personally.
“Are you that unhappy?” I shifted my weight on the stool, my pajama shorts catching on the white upholstery.
"I miss my friends,” she admitted, her gaze falling from mine. “And I miss the mountains. And I feel horrible because this is everything you’ve wanted, and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have it.”
“Oh, Sutton.” I shook my head and reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, but she dodged me.
“You can just send me back,” she pleaded, so much misery in her eyes that my chest clenched. “I can live with Halley or Ava, or even Weston. I know he’d take care of me until you got home.”
“Sugar, I’m not going to ship you off. Whatever we do, we do together.” But if she was this forlorn, was it even an option to stay?
Did I even want to stay?
Callie, your daughter isn’t the only one who is unhappy. Carmen was right, and Sutton had noticed too.
“Then let’s go home,” she whispered. “I know you’re as unhappy as I am. I hear you crying at night.”
My stomach fell through the floor. Home. Is that what it would even feel like without Weston? How could I go back to Penny Ridge—Weston’s home town, and not be with him? There was no way I’d survive seeing him and not being able to touch him.
“We agreed to try everything once, Mom, and we’ve tried. You don’t even smile while you’re taking pictures anymore, and wasn’t that what this was all about?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to argue that I was learning too much here to go, but I wasn’t learning anything I wanted to use once we’d leave.