Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
What we don’t do is talk about what is going to happen when she leaves. Even when I drive her back to Sofia’s house and watch her pack her bags, we don’t say a word. I put her bag into my truck, taking her to the plane. We make one stop before that, to Fireball, taking her on one last ride before she really has to leave.
I stand here in front of my truck with her in my arms, looking down at her with the wind blowing her hair all over the place. “You be good, Sweetheart,” I say and she nods. I can see the tears in her eyes as she blinks them away.
“Thank you for the best two weeks a woman could ask for, Cowboy.” She kisses me softly before my arms fall from around her. She walks to the plane, holding on to the railing as she steps up. With each step, my heart pounds harder and harder until she gets to the last one and turns around one last time. I can see the tear on her cheek as she smiles through it, holding up her hand. I move my hand up to the rim of the cowboy hat, pulling it down a touch to tell her goodbye while silently telling her I love her. She disappears into the plane, and the door closes. I stand here leaning back against my truck, watching the love of my life disappear into the clouds.
21
ZARA
The plane touches down, and I look out the window at the gloomy sky. My head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, my eyes itch with dryness, and my chest feels as if someone is sitting on me. I grab my purse, putting on a smile to the flight attendant who saw me sob as soon as the doors closed. I tried to keep it in me, tried to hold it together, but the minute I heard the click of the door locking me in, I lost it. The past three days of being on cloud nine feels like thunder just ripped through them.
I walk out of the plane, the drizzle of rain falling on me, and see my parents at the chain-link fence waiting for me. My mother waves with a big smile, and my father has his arm around her. I grab my suitcase, wheeling it to them. The sound of sirens in the distance is foreign to me now.
“Welcome home,” my mother greets me when I step out, and she can hug me. “Wow, I expected you to come back all skinny and your face sunken with black bags underneath your eyes, but you came back glowing.”
“Um…” I try to take in what she is saying. “Thanks, I guess.”
“What your mother is trying to say, and failing miserably at, is we are happy you are home.” He grabs me in his arms, and I look up at him, smiling tightly.
“It’s good to be home,” I lie to them because it’s not good to be home. I don’t want to be here. I want to be at Gabriel’s house, sitting on his couch, wrapped in his arms.
“Let’s get out of the rain,” my father urges, grabbing my suitcase and making his way over to his SUV. My mother gets in the front while I get in the back, waiting for my father. “It’s going to come down hard soon.” He looks up at the sky, and I have to wonder if the sky is a mirror of what I’m feeling inside.
We pull up to the brownstone my family owns, and I get out, the rain now coming down hard. “Go inside, I’ll get your things,” my father says to us. My mother and I run up the steps to the front door, where she unlocks it and steps in, followed by myself and my father, who is dripping wet.
“Are you sure you want to stay here?” my mother asks when she slides out of her jacket. “You could stay with us for a few weeks.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Time to get back to normal. Or whatever my new normal is.” I kick off my sneakers before going into the house.
I see it exactly like it always is. “We put all your stuff in storage, but if you want, we can go and get some things this week so you can make this space yours.”
“We’ll see,” I reply, the sounds of honking horns blare from outside. “It’s so loud.” I walk to the back of the house, where the kitchen is, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a water bottle. “Do you guys want to stay for dinner?”
“No,” my mother says, “we are going to get out of your hair so you get yourself unpacked.”
I nod at them as my father takes my suitcase up to the bedroom. “We did put a couple of your throw covers in the living room and on your bed,” she mentions as I walk her to the front door. “You have a walk-through scheduled tomorrow at the house at ten a.m. Daniel’s broker will be there to ensure you don’t destroy anything.” I snort.