Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
He gave me that look again. We were good at communicating entire feelings with just a single look, and tonight was no different.
I’m here, was really what that look said. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, and no matter what, you’re safe.
My heart may have been kicked to a pulp by everything that had happened today, but it wasn’t broken. Not when I was with him.
About half an hour later, we were both shower-fresh on the couch, and I was still drunk, hogging the remote and forcing Harlan to watch one of my favorite kung fu movies. Ever since we’d worked on the farm together in our early twenties, Harlan had been baffled by how much I loved martial arts movies. He’d say they were so silly, so unrealistic. He’d say that I was such a pacifist in real life that I could barely kill a spider, let alone ever fight anyone, yet I was so absorbed by the fighting styles in the movies that the characters may as well have been superheroes to me.
But over the years, he’d grown to love them, too. He’d never admit it, but even tonight, I watched his eyes stay glued to the screen as Jet Li launched himself through the air.
What I loved most were the stories, as much as I loved a perfect butterfly kick. Stories of people who were misunderstood, who had everything stacked against them in life, who dedicated themselves to their craft and ended up heroes.
I was 36 years old and I still had no idea what my own story was. All my life, I’d tried so hard to do what I was supposed to do, and somehow always ended up off the beaten path, doing things that my family looked down on. Even back in high school I got B’s and C’s instead of A’s, unlike the perfect students that all of my siblings were. I was always forgetful. Spacey. I didn’t make it into any of the colleges that my parents had hoped for, and I didn’t end up going to college at all when I got a job on Red Pinecone Farm.
And I’d never been able to check the box of finding a perfect girlfriend who could become my wife and start a family, either. I was sure it was the biggest reason my relationship with my parents was so strained. I loved my life, and knew my choices had been the best for me. I just wished that my family could be a part of it, too.
“Okay, that was amazing,” Harlan said, leaning back on the couch and putting his hands behind his head.
“Knew you’d like this one,” I said. “He’s a master.”
He shook his head slightly, his eyes still glued to the screen. “You always have good taste.”
“Finally, he admits it,” I teased.
Harlan reached over toward my leg on the couch, giving it a squeeze, and my heart ached a little, in a good way.
I’d never felt like I had to “check any boxes” with Harlan. He had simply always been a friend to me—always supported me, trusted me, and liked me. The real me. He’d been the only person in my life that had gotten close to me, yet never made me feel inadequate.
“I should be alone at home right now, wallowing in my emotions about getting fired,” I said, turning toward him on the couch. “But instead I’m here. And I’m actually happy, even after everything that happened today.”
He gave me a sly grin. “Well, you weren’t exactly unemployed for more than a couple of hours, Sawyer—”
“Shut it,” I interjected. I put my feet up on the couch, giving his leg a little kick. “I know I’ll be okay. But losing a job I had for over a decade is still a big life change, even if I’m lucky to have the Fixer Brothers offer.”
“I know,” Harlan said. His eyes glittered as he looked over at me. “And hey, if you want me to take you home, say the word. You can go wallow alone if you want.”
“You know I’d rather be here,” I said softly. “I don’t like being alone.”
I suddenly was acutely aware that his hand had ended up on my shin, and that it felt really good. He was rubbing his palm slowly back and forth. I’d always been a touchy-feely person, and that was no different with Harlan—we’d given each other hugs, back rubs, and random squeezes for our whole friendship.
But something about having his hand on me felt extra nice right now. Maybe because I was drunk, or maybe because I just really needed human contact.
“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t like being alone, because the guys were right,” Harlan said. “You’re going to be swimming in attention soon.”
I tensed up. “I don’t want to think about that.”