Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
If we decide to stay the rest of the week.
Right now, that’s a big “if.”
I just want to go home. I want to crawl into bed with Freya, watch reruns of Gilmore Girls, and remember that even Lorelei Gilmore, a gorgeous, spunky, intelligent, hardworking woman, with a fantastic sense of humor and a heart as big as the burgers at Luke’s diner didn’t find her happily ever after until late in life.
I don’t have to commit to a future of ferret-nurturing spinsterhood. There’s still time for me to find my person. With time, I’ll forget the dazzling, magical, perfect way Wes made me feel. I’ll forget that he’s the only man who’s ever appreciated my goofy side as much as my sexy one, the only man who’s looked at me like I’m the answer to every question, the only man who’s ever felt like home.
“Can we talk? Please?” Wes asks from the door to the camper.
He ate the burger and fries we picked up on the way back to our campsite inside at the banquet. I ate out here by the fire, Freya cavorting on her leash beside my chair, gratefully snatching at the tiny pieces of meat I tossed her way.
Even after the exhausting day, I just wasn’t that hungry, and I still don’t want to talk. But I owe Wes that much.
I nod toward the other camp chair.
He settles into the seat, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, his expression still drawn. “I have something to tell you.”
My brows lift.
After a beat, he continues, “I don’t want lies between us anymore, not even lies of omission. I understand why you’re upset, but honestly, Tessa, the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. I just didn’t want to ruin the fun by bringing up Darcy’s texts. I was going to tell you, I swear. And now that I know how much things like this upset you, in the future, I would know to tell you right away.”
I sigh and cross my arms tighter over my chest.
“I’d be fine with you going through my phone if you wanted,” Wes adds, making me frown. “Whenever you wanted to.”
“I don’t want to go through your phone,” I say. “I just want to know I can trust you, Wes.”
He leans closer, his fingers threading together into a single fist. “And you can. I swear. I have nothing to hide.” He pauses, his teeth dragging over his full bottom lip. “Or…I won’t. Once I tell you one last thing.”
My stomach knots around what little food I managed to force down. “Okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure I want to hear his “one last thing.” I’m already struggling. I don’t know if I’ll be able to let my walls down and trust him again.
One more lie might be all it takes to put the nail in the coffin of this relationship.
“It’s about Carl,” he says, surprising me.
I sit back, blinking faster. “Carl? The man in the woods?”
Wes nods tightly. “A few days after he attacked you, I mentioned what happened to an old high school friend of mine who’s a cop. I was just wondering if I needed to come in and give a statement or something. But she said no one had reported anything like that. When I realized you hadn’t told the police about what happened, I thought about coming to talk to you, to try to convince you to come to the station with me.” He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. “But then I started thinking about all the women I’ve represented in court, all those restraining orders that did jack shit to keep their abusive partners away from them. One of my clients ended up in the hospital with a broken jaw. Another…didn’t make it out of the relationship. She ended up going back to her abuser. He’d made it too scary for her to keep fighting for her freedom. Every time I see her in town, she looks smaller, more…hollow inside.”
He trails off, misery clear on his face.
I want to reach out to him, to pull him in for a hug and tell him how sorry I am that he has a front row seat to the worst aspects of humanity. But the hugging part of me is still locked away with the rest of the vulnerable emotions that ran for shelter when I read that text.
Instead, I hold out my fast-food bag. “My churro chunks are still in here. I couldn’t eat them.”
His lips twitch. “Thanks, I’m good.”
“Are you sure? Sugar makes everything better.”
“Maybe later. I have to get this out first. My stomach is in knots.”
“I get it.” I tuck the bag back in the side pocket of my camp chair and close the Velcro flap, keeping it safe from Freya, who is still prowling around the fire, looking for microscopic pieces of meat she might have missed.