Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“It’s hard.” Monroe finished my thought for me. “You haven’t heard—”
“Where do you keep your ice cream bowls?” Knox cut him off brightly, bouncing toward the house, saving me from answering the inevitable question of whether I’d heard from Worth. That I was still texting him was a given. Couldn’t lie to my friends, and I was damn grateful to be spared the conversation.
“Thanks,” I whispered to Knox when he returned with an ice cream scoop and passed out small bowls.
“Anytime.” He grinned at me. “And any time now to get your sparkle back, sunshine. We miss our optimistic friend.”
I miss me too. But all I did was nod. It wasn’t any of their faults or problem that I was so wrapped up in my decades-old crush on Worth Stapleton that I lived from emoji to emoji and worried nonstop about how he was coping with all the news about his mother’s case. For someone I hadn’t laid eyes on in almost twenty years, the man occupied so much free real estate in my head that he might as well have his own skyscraper.
Sighing at my ridiculousness, I distracted myself by helping serve up the ice cream, making sure everyone had some of the various imaginative flavors. We voted on favorites and toasted Monroe’s success and lingered until an evening breeze swept through.
“Guess we should head back before downtown clogs with all the people going to the town fireworks show.” Knox stretched as he stood up from the picnic table.
“You gonna be okay tonight with all the firecracker noise?” Monroe asked Cal. It wasn’t an idle question. The holiday was difficult for all service people, especially those struggling with PTSD. The noise could sound eerily like gunfire, and indeed, both Cal and Monroe had startled at the few stray fireworks neighbors had sent up earlier in the day. “Call us if you need anything.”
“We have a plan.” Cal glanced at Holden. They’d moved to snuggling in a glider on the patio. The heat in his gaze said the plan was something other than earplugs, and Knox snorted.
“Doubt it involves trying to sleep through the noise.”
“Hush.” Monroe shot him a look. “You’re embarrassing Sam.”
“He’s not,” I protested, not that anyone seemed to hear me. That I was blushing was a given, but not for the reason Monroe assumed. I was Sam, the good guy, preacher’s kid, someone to protect from dirty jokes and innuendo. Some nights, I got really darn tired of being that guy.
“You hush.” Knox shot back lovingly at Monroe, voice firm and unmistakenly sexy. “Maybe we need a plan too.”
“Please.” Monroe mouthed at him before turning back to us, all but dragging Knox toward the house. “Night, all.”
“Night.” I said my own goodbyes as quickly as I could. “See you Wednesday for choir practice, Cal?”
“I’m trying to tell y’all I can’t really sing.”
“A bet is a bet.” I slapped his shoulder, managing a hearty chuckle. “And you wouldn’t be the first choir member who can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but I’ve heard you, buddy. The secret’s out.”
“Yeah, it is.” Holden cuddled Cal closer, sniffing his short hair and looking for all the world like he was seconds from making out with him right then and there.
Perfect time for me to escape, and I headed out in the night air. Not quite twilight yet, but the sound of fireworks was already echoing through the neighborhood. The smell of charred meat hung in the air, and all around me, laughter filtered out of backyards, snippets of conversations that only made me feel that much more alone.
The last single friend.
It was so darn easy to feel sorry for myself. And deep in my pity party, I almost tripped over a small dog, some sort of sheltie, hunkering under a bush, half on the grass and half on the sidewalk. She was doing that little kid and scared animal thing of pretending like if she couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see her.
“Hey, girl, how’d you get here?” I stroked her cautiously as I felt for a collar or tag. Nope. And when another firework explosion erupted, she leaped into my arms, every furry, smelly inch of her. She sure was scroungy. Likely a stray, not an escapee from one of the neighboring houses.
I listened to see if people were calling for a dog, but all I heard was more fireworks and laughter. The dog huddled closer into my lap. Well, I guessed I’d wanted someone to cuddle with. God sure did have a sense of humor.
Scooping the dog up, I petted her more. “Guess you’re coming with me.”
The local shelter was closed for the holiday weekend, and the dog wasn’t exactly a police emergency, but I also couldn’t leave her where she was, alone and scared and hungry. I’d take her home, check the town app for lost dog reports, and decide which vet friend I could call for advice.