Beginning of the End (End of Story #0.5) Read Online Kylie Scott

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Drama, Romance Tags Authors: Series: End of Story Series by Kylie Scott
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Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 8838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 44(@200wpm)___ 35(@250wpm)___ 29(@300wpm)
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She said nothing. Just patiently waited for me to pour out my woes. Just like she always had. She smelled of the lavender she picked off the bushes at the front of her house and slipped in among her clothes drawers. Some things never changed.

“He got up and announced at dinner that he couldn’t wait to experience everything London had to offer,” I explained in a husky voice, thanks to my sore throat from crying. “Then he laughed and winked. And then he actually had the audacity to act like it didn’t mean anything and accused me of causing a scene when I asked him about it.”

“What an idiot.” Aunt Susan clicked her tongue. “As I recall, your father used to try to pull the same trick on your mom. Gaslight her to control the story and make her doubt herself. Divorcing my brother was the smartest thing that woman ever did. Apart from letting you spend so much time with me, of course.”

“Oh, man.” I sniffled and gave her a look. “Are you not-so-subtly telling me I’ve been searching for my asshole of a father in the men I’ve been dating?”

“I think I was more subtly telling you that you succeeded.”

“Great.”

She pressed a kiss to my temple. “Live and learn.”

“But I’m thirty now. I should know better!”

“Excuse you. I am almost sixty and still learning new things about myself and my place in this world and whatever is beyond,” she chided softly. “Some lessons just take as long as they take. There’s no rushing them. And issues left over from childhood can be some of the hardest to grapple with.”

“I guess so.”

“I’m sorry your heart is hurting. But at least you know you only want him. You don’t need him.”

“I know.”

She nodded sagely and said, “It can be hard to be alone sometimes. To not have someone special. Though, he never exactly treated you like you were special, did he?”

I flinched and kept my mouth shut. Which was telling.

“You are wonderful, bright, and so beautiful you blind me. Don’t accept less than your due, my love.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she said. “You want to come in and have a cup of cocoa?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m going to head home and get some sleep. Give Cleo the good news.”

“Fair enough. I should get to bed. Things have been so busy lately, I could use a decent night’s sleep.” She yawned and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “How about breakfast tomorrow morning? We could make waffles?”

“That would be great.”

* * *

I let myself into Aunt Susan’s house the next morning. After waking with a headache from all of the crying, I applied about a container’s worth of concealer, downed some Tylenol, and donned my most comfortable clothing. Baggy jeans with a hoodie and sneakers for the win. Clothes to hide and comfort me. Though, they were still black, because basically everything I owned was black.

Heartache was an utter bitch. But this too would pass. Cleo had been fast asleep when I got home last night. I had texted her the news and woken up to a barrage of supportive messages from her. It was nice to have a friend who had my back.

The cottage was quiet when I arrived a little after nine. Aunt Susan must have decided to sleep in. A car passed outside, but inside the cottage seemed like another world, one unto itself. None of the lights were on, but the winter sun peeked around the edges of the drawn curtains turning the space to shadows. My sleep had been restless and full of bad dreams. But stepping into this house smoothed out the worst of the rough edges. It soothed me. Here I was loved and accepted.

It was just what I needed after waking to voice mail from Aaron. The drunken idiot had called a little after two in the morning. He left a rambling speech offering me the chance to return to his good graces if I agreed to an open relationship and begged his forgiveness for my anger last night.

As fucking if. What a man-child. There would be no second-guessing my decision to walk away from our relationship. Aunt Susan was right: I didn’t need him. He’d never treated me like I was special. A hard truth to face, but a fact none the less. I’d wasted a year waiting for an asshole to see my worth when I should have had more respect for myself. Funny how things were always so damn obvious in hindsight. And by funny, I mean ugh.

The air inside the house was thick with dust and the scent of lavender. Aunt Susan attempted to keep the place clean. But the sheer amount of stuff she had made it difficult. A Christmas tree stood by the fireplace reminding me that the clock was ticking and I hadn’t even started shopping. What the hell had happened to this year?


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