Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Oh, okay, then. That makes total sense. For a second there, I thought you were stalking me.”
I swallowed hard and avoided her gaze. “I just…needed to be here, but I didn’t want to bother you.”
She barked a laugh. “Yeah, making me feel bad while you sit out here getting soaked is so much less invasive.”
My back shot straight. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I was actually trying to avoid being the asshole for once. Staying out of your way seemed like the way to go.”
“Not coming would have been the way to go.”
Feeling like a scolded child, I peered up at her and shrugged. “I don’t know how to not be here.”
“Why? What’s so special about this place? I knew you used to like their burgers when we were growing up, but the food has been shit for a while. You avoided this place like the plague after…” She paused and peered down at her pink sneakers. Her gorgeous brown eyes came back to me, begging for answers in the most heartbreakingly familiar way. “I just don’t get it. Help me understand.”
I clenched my fist, tension running through my body. That was the one thing I’d never be able to give her.
I didn’t want her to understand.
I didn’t want her to know.
I didn’t want her anywhere near the shitshow that lived inside my head.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled like the fucking coward I was.
Her humorless laugh was filled with frustration. “Right. Of course not. How silly of me to even ask the question.”
“Gwen, I—”
“So what, then? Every Wednesday, you’re just going to sit out here, rain, sleet, or snow, acting like the town’s newest statue until I reopen the restaurant?”
Pulling my hands from the pockets of my jacket, I reached under the hood and scratched the back of my neck. “Well, I’m hoping it doesn’t snow in March, but honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t made it that far.” That was the truth. I had no idea if it would even feel like The Grille when she reopened. That was a whole mental breakdown I was saving for a different day. “Look, go back inside. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I just couldn’t stay at home tonight.”
“You shouldn’t be in that house any night,” she shot back so fast I barely understood her. A groan rumbled in her throat as she aimed her gaze anywhere but at me. “Get up. Let’s go.”
“I’m fine. Seriously.”
“You’re not fine, Truett,” she snapped, frustration bubbling over. “You’re sopping wet and on the verge of catching pneumonia. I don’t have anything to make a club sandwich, but I can at least get you dry and out of the rain.”
I stared at her, the weight of her invitation sinking in more slowly than the cold had seeped into my bones. A surge of hope pulsed inside me as I tried to make heads or tails of her offer.
On one hand, it was exactly what I needed.
On the other, I was right back to that whole at-what-cost debate.
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” I asked.
“Nope. But I don’t know what else to do with you.”
Funny. I didn’t know, either. “I’m—” I started to say sorry but managed to stop myself. “I apologize. This isn’t your problem.”
She once again interrupted me. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. You’re here. You’re wet. You aren’t leaving, are you?”
I shook my head, water dripping from my beard.
“Right. Then that apology is worth about as much as me wasting my breath telling you to go home. You usually stay until seven, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay. Well, it’s getting late. So let’s get this over with.” With that, she turned on a toe, lowered the tray, and jogged across the street.
I stood there for several beats, watching her, wondering if following her was the right thing to do.
It was for me. I knew that to the core of my soul.
But for her…
“Let’s go, True!” she called over her shoulder as she pulled the door open. “This offer expires in ten, nine, eight…”
She didn’t make it to seven before I sprinted after her.
“Here,” Gwen said, offering me a stack of towels. “Don’t mind the stains. They’re clean, I swear. Give me your jacket and I’ll hang it up in front of the hand blower in the bathroom. It probably won’t dry in time, but you won’t be dripping all over the place, either.”
With an eerie awe, my gaze trailed around the empty restaurant. The Grille had never been crowded, but with the absence of the clatter from the kitchen, waitresses wandering about, and the scent of grease filling the air, it felt stagnant and unsettling. The booths still lined the walls, but the tables had been pushed to the side, chairs stacked on top, giving the space the illusion of being bigger.
It was odd the way everything felt so right yet so damn wrong.