Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Shut up.” I laugh, descending the stairs.
He transfers my coffee into a canteen. “Coffee to go.”
“You’re the best.”
“Tell me about it.” He grins, grabbing his keys. “It’s like you slept with the wrong housemate.”
I open the door and giggle. “I think that’s been well established.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
CALVIN
Will gives me a suspicious look when I pull into the driveway. He sets aside his can of deck stain and wipes his hands on a rag hanging from his back pocket. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes things go as planned.” I head toward the back door.
“Those are called damn good days.”
“Amen,” I mumble.
He follows me into the house, pulling two beers from the fridge and handing me one.
“Thanks,” I say. “You have the whole weekend off?”
Will takes a long swig and then nods. “I attended a wedding yesterday.”
“Open bar?”
He chuckles. “Vineyard reception.”
“Wine.” My face sours while I set my beer on the counter. “Well, I need a nap.”
“Okey dokey.” Will gives me another weird expression.
But I don’t have the energy to give a shit, so I head upstairs and straight into the bedroom, where there’s a pair of silver heels on my bed.
I turn to have a word with my dumbass roommate for getting drunk and screwing some girl in the wrong damn room. But as soon as I turn, I find him leaned against my doorway, arms crossed over his gray T-shirt splattered with dark stains.
“Ran into our old roomie at the wedding yesterday.”
My jaw stiffens; just the mention of her unearths unwelcome pain.
“She’s been hiking the trails where it all happened over twenty years ago. Her dad’s dying of cancer. She’s as innocent and beautiful as the day she walked through our door. And she was a little too tipsy to be left alone after the reception, so I brought her here. But she wasn’t wearing her shoes by then, so I carried them inside, and she barely made it up the porch steps because I showed her that any guy could carry her shoes. When all this time, she dreamed of you carrying her shoes down some boardwalk after spending the night with her on a boat.”
Will glances at the floor, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip several times before shaking his head. “I love my job. I value my freedom. I thought there was nothing better than casual sex, breaking gaming records, watching football, and drinking good beer.” He lifts his gaze, eyes slightly narrowed. “But last night, I caught a tiny glimpse of what you let go. I didn’t see my old roommate. I saw a woman who loves you. And all I could think was how I’d give my whole fucking life to find my own Jaymes Andrews. I’d give my whole fucking life to be the guy who carries her shoes and makes all her dreams come true.”
He nods to the bed. “I wrote the hotel address on the bottom of her shoe.”
I take two steps before glancing at the bottom of her shoes. He also wrote the date. I peer back at him, eyes narrowed.
Will grins. “I knew she’d want to remember the date she lost her shoes just to find you.” He turns and struts toward the stairs. “It’s time, buddy. Go bring our girl home, or else I will burn down the shed, kick your ass to the curb, and put a ring on her finger myself.”
It takes me forty-seven minutes to step out of my truck. And when I do, it scares me more than any jump I’ve ever made from a plane. She’s the fire I will never control. If I let her burn, she can bring new life.
I knock twice on her hotel-room door and wipe my hand across my forehead while swallowing past the lump of doubt in my throat. It’s been six months. She shouldn’t be here. I should have found her first. This is a terrible idea. She’ll expect answers that I don’t have. So I turn, but it’s too late. She’s opening the door.
Her wide eyes blink several times before they shift to the heels in my hand. “Will is a liar,” she murmurs.
I don’t know what she means. All I know is my heart wants to throat punch me. It’s livid that I’ve kept it from her for six months. Every breath drops to the pit of my stomach—it feels like the first time I jumped. My body’s disconnected from everything else. I must remind myself to breathe.
She’s the breathtaking horizon.
The canopy that slows my fall.
The perfect place to land.
She’s the quietude after the last flame dies.
“Can we talk?” I manage past the boulder in my throat.
Her gaze returns to mine, and she smiles and steps aside.
I hand her the heels and make my way to the far side of the room, next to the window.