Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
She’s probably cooking, baking or doing something to celebrate the holiday. There’s a longing in my chest that causes me to rub my hand over it. The first time I felt the twinge, I thought I was having a heart attack. But the closer I got to my discharge date, and the more I thought about not talking to Cassie anymore, the worse the twinge got. Now it’s like a constant pressure right over my heart.
I lace my fingers together and put them over my stomach, rocking back and forth in the chair. Cassie. That’s all I’ve thought about. My twenty-two-year career in the Army I can survive without. It will take getting used to, but it’s doable. But I’m beginning to wonder if I made the right decision about Cassie. This last year I got to know her more than I know anyone. Fuck, more than my own foster brother. There were times I was vulnerable with her, and heck, that’s not me. I’m not that way. But she was too easy to trust. She was too everything. Too loving, too sweet, too smart, too caring. With very little ease, she burrowed into my life, and now I’ve fucked it up.
I told her we wouldn’t be talking anymore when we got out. I knew it was the best thing to do. She’s way too young for me and way too sweet. I’m like a cankerous old man, and all I’ll do is bring her down. Nope. I made the right decision. It’s better this way. With another rub to my chest, I can’t help but wonder when I’m going to believe it, though.
Chapter 2
Cassie
This is it. This is where Gavin lives. I look at the mailbox and see the big white letters that say Dawson. There’s a flutter in my chest just looking at his last name.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I get out of the car and stare up at the house. I found Gavin just by looking at old emails. I of course knew his last name was Dawson. And in one email he mentioned his brother had built his house in Mistletoe, Montana. It’s a three-hour drive from me, and I can’t help but wonder if he knew that or not. Did he ever even think about meeting me one day?
I shake my head, determined to get rid of the feelings of despair. This is not what this is about, Cassie. This is about Gavin not spending Christmas alone. That’s it.
I grip the rearview mirror and try to talk myself into walking up the driveaway and stepping onto the porch. It’s a beautiful ranch style house with a porch swing. There are no other houses on this street. I eye the swing again and immediately think of his foster brother, Baker. He has to be responsible for the porch swing because Gavin doesn’t really seem like the type to spend time on a porch swing.
I release my hold on the car and take tentative steps toward the porch. You can do this, Cassie, I chant to myself over and over. Worst case scenario, I leave without him even knowing it’s me. I don’t have to tell him who I am.
With much more confidence than I feel, I knock soundly on the door and take a step back.
I wait, wondering again for the zillionth time what he looks like. And if he’s going to be disappointed by what I look like. I pull the hem of my jacket down, trying to cover my wide hips a little more when suddenly the door swings open… and I’m staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Maybe I should have waited a little longer for the sun to come fully up.
I stagger back, almost falling on my butt before finally getting my ground and staying upright. I stare up at him, and he is definitely a force to reckon with. His reddish blond hair is a little shaggy, and it looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He’s big and muscular, his tight thermal shirt showing off every muscle of his chest and arms.
I look up into his eyes and notice that he’s staring at me too, but instead of the long glance up and down my body, it’s more of a glance over… and maybe a dismissive shrug.
“I, uh, yeah, I should probably go,” I mutter before turning on my heel.
I run-walk back to my car, trying to hold back the tears. I knew he would be handsome, but I guess I thought it wouldn’t matter. I could do what I came to do and leave. But seeing him, I know I couldn’t be around him without looking like a stalker. Heck, I’ve already ogled him. I guess he’s lucky I didn’t push him into the house and force myself on him at this point.