Just One More Touch Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
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I don’t need anyone’s approval though. I only need Hally.

I have to take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor to the set she’s on, while each second that passes pisses me off. The elevator has never moved so slowly before; the time teases me, taunts me really. As if it wants to torture me this one last time before I get to have her forever.

The hall’s empty when I step out and I already know I’m going to be disappointed. I know something’s off. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

The set’s being taken apart as I walk past it. I keep going, straight to her dressing room. Slipping the phone from my pocket I check for a message from her, but there’s nothing.

My heart stutters and my limbs go stiff; she’s intentionally ignoring me, but I don’t let it stop me. She’s the one who wants to talk, and I can do that now. I only need one more chance.

I check her dressing room. It’s empty.

I check her friend’s, but it’s vacant too.

Standing there numbly, I’m not sure what to do or where to go. I call her, but it doesn’t ring, just goes straight to voicemail. I’ve never felt this alone.

It’s not till I get to my dressing room and find the letter she left that I feel any sort of control.

Nathan,

I have to leave. It’s the best thing for me at the moment.

I’m sorry, but I have to take care of myself right now.

Hally

I stare at her signature for far too long, tracing the double Ls with the tip of my finger. She didn’t sign it "yours” or "with love.” There’s no mention of us or where we stand. The only question on my mind is where I’m going to find her. Because if it’s the last thing I do, I will find her.

CHAPTER 22

Harlow

There’s something soothing about driving. Especially with no radio and the windows down. Even the city traffic wasn’t bad. I kind of liked the sounds of the nightlife. As I head back to my hometown, it’s all just white noise now.

It’s not the kind of white noise that lulls babies to sleep though. My shoulders rise and my neck cracks as the weariness continues to run me down further into the depths of where I was years ago.

Alone and scared. Waiting every second for the cops to come for me. When I saw the news and saw his picture, it destroyed me. I couldn’t even leave my room. I clung to a pillow, trying to will the memory to die. It haunted me and I deserved it. Every day that passed without me being arrested was a day I counted my blessings.

The guilt and shame built until I almost couldn’t stand it. I wanted to beg Nathan to come with me and confess to the cops. I prayed to God every night for them to understand that it was an accident.

But no one ever came.

And the memories slowly faded.

Especially that summer, when Nathan was gone and the reminders lessened and grew fewer.

Even when I went back to school, somehow life became normal and sleep came back to me. The nightmares subsided and I became the person I once was.

That’s a true crime. Living without repenting, and life is well with it all.

It’s funny how the oddest thing would bring me back, and it would hurt even more. Because I’d moved on and never confessed. I swallow the thought; it scratches my dry throat on the way down.

My turn signal clicks and I look up to see that I’m at the intersection of Second Street where I should be turning. The drive went by so fast. My foot twitches on the brake, and the car rocks forward slightly at the stop sign. I need to take a right to go home, but that’s not where I’m going.

My muscles tense and a voice in my head screams at me not to be so stupid. Not to go down here. The voice says I know better. The voice tells me it’s all my fault for being so stupid.

The voice says I deserve this and I’ll pay.

Funny how that gives me slight comfort. Or maybe it’s just sad.

The streets don’t look as scary as they once did. Maybe because they’re empty. I huff a pathetic laugh at the thought. The boogeyman doesn’t sit on the street corner; he hides in the shadows. My eyes flicker down the narrow alleyways, but I don’t see anyone.

Goosebumps travel over my body as a chill makes its way slowly down my spine.

I don’t even start to have second thoughts until I’m pulling into the church parking lot, parking under one of the three lights. To my right is the liquor store. It’s still the same. It even has the same sign, although it’s weathered now. Just a few blocks down is where it happened. But there’s nowhere to park down there. Not that I want to.


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