Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“How did you end up in Mount Hope?” From what my dad had said, he’d met Jonas back when they and Eric and their other friend Tony were all at community college and living in a big apartment together.
“I wanted the hell out of Utah. I had thoughts of trying to find a big city—LA or Seattle, maybe. But I got a chance to hitch my way to Oregon. I spent a night in Mount Hope at the truck stop on the edge of town, saw a sign for the community college, and never left.”
“You didn’t try to go back ever?”
He shook his head sadly. “I wrote a lot of letters over the years. Managed a few phone calls here and there with folks connected to the sect, but the plain truth is they didn’t want me. Not then and especially not after my first divorce, when I officially came out, but I’m not about to change.”
“Wow.” I whistled low. We were still holding hands, so I squeezed his tightly, like pinning him to me could make up for whatever horrors he’d had to endure. “That’s some heavy shit. I’m sorry you went through that.”
“It was a long time ago.” Sliding his palm away from mine, he sat back in the chair. “I should let you get some rest.”
“Wait.” I leaned forward. “I’m sorry for bringing up old hurts. You don’t have to leave.”
“Well, my dog certainly seems to have made himself at home.” Jonas offered a sad, crooked grin as he pointed at Oz, who was now snoring, wrapped into a perfect furry circle against my calf. “How about I read, and you at least pretend to nap?”
“Deal.” I’d let him move on from his past and talk about less painful stuff, but I wasn’t forgetting anytime soon. And it wasn’t simply the depressing nature of his tale. I’d never felt protective like this about anyone, like I would do serious harm to those who’d hurt him, and like I’d give a hell of a lot to keep him safe and happy in the future.
Chapter Eight
Jonas
“I find myself alone and dateless.” With a loud, fake royal accent, Rowan draped himself over the kitchen island, inconveniently landing in the path of my sponge. “On New Year’s Eve. The second most romantic holiday. It’s practically criminal, I tell you.”
“Drop the British accent, Rowan.” Wren looked up from the fridge inventory they were conducting on their tablet. “New Year’s Eve is an arbitrary holiday, as evidenced by the many cultures—”
“Oh my God, Wren. Let me be dramatic for once.” Rowan flailed like he hadn’t been dramatic every moment since birth.
And if anyone was entitled to wail, it would be me. Two days of Declan living here, and I was ready to climb the curtains. I smelled him in the hallways. I heard him through the air vents. I caught myself checking on him far more than was prudent, and our little conversations turned into epic discussions. Other than work, I’d done little else other than think about Declan. Now it was New Year’s Eve, and as Rowan pointed out, a night for romance for the lucky and sulking for the rest of us.
“I’m dateless.” John, another of the teens and a mild-mannered football star, clomped down the back stairs to swipe a cookie from a platter on the counter near the fridge. “You don’t see me obsessing over who I’m kissing at midnight.”
“That’s because…” Rowan sputtered as I glowered in his direction. I’d spent the fall trying to protect John’s right to privacy where Rowan would rather lob sharp barbs, oblivious to anyone else’s feelings. Mouth twisting, Rowan tried a different tactic. “That’s hardly the win you think it is.”
“Sure it is. I’m outta here and headed to Cosmo’s for a marathon of the best sports movies ever. I dropped Dad off at the station for his shift, so I’ve got wheels to pick up the rest of the crew. Who needs a date?”
“Me,” Rowan moaned.
“Drive safe,” I told John, ignoring Rowan’s theatrics. “This is a night for bad accidents, and your dad’s on call.”
“You’re saying don’t make him be the one to come scrape me up? Yeah, yeah.” John pocketed another couple of cookies on his way to grabbing Eric’s SUV keys and heading out.
“As I was saying, alas, I am feuding with my drama club vice president.” Rowan didn’t waste much time returning the conversation to his favorite subject. “I am alone while the rest of the drama club parties with Taylor, the backstabber. May her eyelashes fall off into the charcuterie tray.”
“A pox on her house.” I matched Rowan’s outraged tone. “And are you waiting for Wren and me to ask you to plan a New Year’s Eve bash for us?”
“God, yes.” Rowan finally straightened from his sprawl, perking up at the mere hint of a fresh project. Oh well. Whatever kept him happy, and it wasn’t like I had anything better to do other than pace outside Declan’s door and see if he’d awakened from a late nap.