Dear Stranger (Paper Cuts #3) Read Online Winter Renshaw

Categories Genre: Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Paper Cuts Series by Winter Renshaw
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Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
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All I was trying to do was help…

I just want the best for her—and Jace.

I lean back against the cushions of the couch, pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes.

This day. Talk about hell. One explosion after another. And all I tried to do all day long was the right thing.

Hopefully one of these days soon, Ellie will get on her feet again and I’ll be able to come home to a quiet house after work. I can’t remember the last time I had a second to breathe in peace. And I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t constantly worried about making sure Ellie and Jace had everything they needed.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I imagine living alone again, and then I picture Stranger7721 waiting for me in the doorway when I arrive. She’s smiling, holding a drink for me, giving me a kiss and telling me she missed me the second I walk through the door.

Everyone should be so lucky to come home to that.

I squeeze my eyes tighter and envision her with that smile and drink, nothing on but an apron…

I have no idea what she looks like, but it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t even have to be sex.

All I know is that my life would be a million times better with her in it.

19

“I just don’t know what to do,” Ellie says as she sits across from me at Beans Café.

I’ve often imagined the discussions my mom had with Ruth, back when I was a little kid, and my mother had no idea where her next meal was coming from, much less how she was going to keep a roof over my head. I think they might have gone something like this. With the fear. The indecision. The powerlessness of not knowing how to break free of the chains tethering her to poverty and hopelessness.

My mom did it though.

So that’s why I know Ellie can too.

She looks different. Today she’s in cut-off shorts and a big, chunky pink cardigan despite the heat. It’s sagging off one impossibly bony shoulder, exposing her black bra strap. Her fingernails are bitten to the quick, and she’s wearing at least half a dozen silver rings, spread out over fingers that are wrapped round her mug.

I smile at her as she sips her coffee. It’s Saturday, and this is an informal meeting. I got the feeling that when I’d met with her, she was holding back because she was embarrassed to even be seeking help at the center—which is normal. Asking for help is hard and humbling. This time, I thought we’d take it someplace a little more casual and relaxed so I can get to the heart of the matter and make a plan to help her.

“It’s understandable,” I assure her. “The future is uncertain, and it feels like there are so many steps you need to accomplish. It’s like looking up at Mt. Everest and trying to imagine climbing to the top. That’s daunting. But you know, that’s why climbers on Mt. Everest take it in stages, a little at a time. They don’t do it all at once. They can’t. They have to acclimate to each stage. And that’s what you need to do. So what is your first step?”

She wipes her dyed-blonde bangs out of her pale blue eyes and shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I never have. When I think about picking something… I feel stuck. Like what if I’m no good at it? What if I pick the wrong thing?”

“Those are the kind of doubts that hold you back, and that’s all they are—doubts. So what if you try and you fail? You’ll be in no worse position than you are now. But if you succeed?” I lift my hand, gesturing.

“I know, I know. It’s just taking the first step.” She titters a little, wrapping her hands tighter around her coffee mug. I think if she didn’t, they’d be trembling. She’s so high-strung. Lots of nervous energy. I imagine one surprise would send her shooting up to the ceiling.

“I get it. But what is that first step? Just meeting with an advisor? The hardest part about that is going to be making the appointment. Action spurs more action. Once you do that, it’ll set the ball in motion. And then you’ll start gathering momentum and no one will be able to stop you. I guarantee it,” I say.

She takes a sip of her coffee, studying me. “You know, you remind me of my brother. He’s a lawyer too. People like you usually don’t understand people like me. We’re cut from a different cloth. He came out of the womb thinking and acting different than everyone else. Like he was better than everyone else. You’re like him, but so much nicer. I can talk to you, and you actually listen.”


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