Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The man turns to look down at the ice from our nosebleed seats and screams, “Titans, Titans, Titans!” along with the rest of the crowd.
I stand and inch past a handful of people to the staircase that leads down.
I’m genuinely happy that Boone scored. I’m glad that my teammates have this experience. Hell, I’m even proud of what has been accomplished.
And yet this has done nothing but reiterate to me that it isn’t my life anymore.
It takes me a good fifteen minutes to exit the arena and make my way to my Mercedes G-Wagon.
Prior to the crash, this puppy was my pride and joy. I love luxury cars, and in addition to this tank, I have a Maserati.
Such stupid things to adore, and I’ll be unloading these frivolities soon.
Won’t be hard, given that nothing brings me joy these days.
Well, except one thing.
Stone’s cabin.
It’s tucked back on almost twenty acres of remote woodland, a few miles outside of the borough of Coudersport. The tiny town is the seat of the very unpopulated Potter County. It sits in a valley surrounded by the Allegheny Plateau where Mill Creek joins the Allegheny River and flows all the way to Pittsburgh. The town itself holds no more than a few thousand people, and I’m enjoying the peace and quiet more than any man has a right to.
If there’s one thing I’d like to do with my money, it’s secure this peace.
I start my SUV, but before I exit the lot for my long drive northeast, I shoot off a text to Stone. I don’t give him platitudes over the great game he played but cut straight to the point. Interested in selling me the cabin? I’ll pay top dollar.
Pulling up my iTunes, I select a playlist that’s mostly hard rock and metal. I crank the volume and blast the air conditioning. I haven’t been sleeping for shit, and the drive back to the cabin is going to be brutal. I could stay at my condo across the river, but I can’t stomach it.
This city isn’t my home anymore.
CHAPTER 2
Tillie
“Are you sure this is a trail?”
I glance over my shoulder at my bestie, Ann Marie, as she swats at a bug before stumbling slightly on a root. Her chestnut-colored ponytail swings wildly as she flails.
I chuckle and return my eyes to the path so I don’t trip. “It’s a trail. If you were expecting gravel or concrete, sorry, city girl.”
Ann Marie laughs, because she’s from the same small dinky town of Coudersport as I am. But she went to college in Pittsburgh and maintains that she prefers the hustle and bustle of life there.
Not sure I really buy it since she moved home a year ago to teach at the combined junior and senior high school, but I don’t give her too much grief about it. I’m glad to have her back.
“And you’re coming out here and doing this every day, huh?” she asks skeptically, as I’m not known for my great love of the outdoors.
“As long as the weather cooperates.”
One of the reasons I bought this property was for the natural beauty of the deep forests, bubbling creeks, and abundant wildlife. The previous owners cut hiking trails over dozens of acres, and I intend to use them.
It’s outside of my comfort zone, but I want to evolve and grow. I’m on my own now, and Tillie Marshall isn’t done becoming who she’s meant to be.
“But… you’re not an outdoorsy girl,” Ann Marie points out. “You’re more of a sit by the window and sketch the landscape kind of gal.”
“I like trying new things.” I turn to sidestep down a small embankment where thick tree roots have formed a sort of staircase.
Besides, I paid for this land when I bought the cabin that sits on it, and I’m not about to let it go to waste. I’ve found myself liking the quiet of nature and it appeals to my artistic side.
“How about bears?” A hint of fear laces Ann Marie’s voice. “I mean… they’re coming out of hibernation and all.”
“They’re more afraid of us than we are of them,” I say bravely. Although I don’t know that to be true, I think I heard someone say it once down at Masha’s. “As long as we make noise so they know we’re coming, they’ll run away from us.”
I think.
Maybe.
Besides… don’t they eat berries and stuff?
“How much longer?” she asks, huffing as she shimmies down the embankment.
“Not much.” I point up over a small ridge shaded with towering oaks and willowy birch trees. With the help of Google Lens, I’ve been able to identify and learn about a lot of the native plant life, and I want to incorporate it into my art.
We hike in silence, both of us gasping as we’ve had a few elevation changes. But at the top of the ridge, I stop so Ann Marie can catch up. When she looks down, she sighs. “Oh, wow.”