Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
The light breeze picks up my hair, a flash of red going across my gaze.
I brush away the strands, tucking it behind my ear.
I’m a redhead now. Vibrant red.
I dyed my hair in the restroom at the first of the many rest stops on the journey here. I bought an at-home hair dye from the store there along with a romance paperback and a burner phone.
The red is taking some getting used to after having blonde hair my whole life. But I do like it.
It makes my eye color pop, and the smattering of freckles on my nose look more prominent.
I look different. And different is exactly how I need to look.
I can’t be Annie anymore. I have to be Carrie to survive.
I might still have the bruise on my face and the cut on my lip, but they’ll be gone soon, and when they are, all traces of Annie will be gone, and I’ll just be Carrie.
I move away from the bus, walking over to the sidewalk. I put my bag down for a moment. It’s seriously warm here.
I know Texas is known for its heat, but I didn’t think it would be this warm in November.
I look around, and other people don’t seem bothered by the heat.
Either they’re used to it or I’m a heat-phobe.
Or my body temperature has gone up a few notches since I became pregnant. Working back from my last period, I figure out that my baby is due in July sometime.
Jeez, if it’s like this now, I’m going to be hugely pregnant in the hottest place in the US. I clearly didn’t think through coming here well enough.
Well, I wasn’t really thinking at all. Apart from choosing the first bus departing and Neil never thinking to look for me here in a million years.
Him not finding me here is worth suffering the heat through my pregnancy. I’ll just invest in good air-conditioning and a portable fan.
On the subject of my due date, I haven’t seen a doctor yet. Once I found out I was pregnant, everything had to move so quickly.
Registering with a doctor is on my list after getting a place to live. And, hopefully, I’ve already found the place.
On my long journey here, using my new phone, I started looking online at available rentals in Canyon Lake. It was slim pickings. There wasn’t a lot to choose from. They were all either one-bed apartments or three-bed houses, and I need two bedrooms for the baby and me. I would rather not have to take a one-bed if possible, as it would mean having to move again when the baby started to grow.
So, it felt like fate when I stumbled across a two-bedroom, fully furnished house. The details said that it sat on a quiet residential street and that the house backed onto open forestland, which led through to the Guadalupe River.
There weren’t any pictures of the house, but I’m not worried about that. It could be a shack, and I wouldn’t care. So long as it’s mine.
I called the number listed and spoke to the realtor, a pleasant-sounding woman called Marla. She said the house had literally just gone on the rental market, and that was why there weren’t any pictures online yet.
That was when I knew it was meant to be.
For a moment, I felt like it was all too easy. Getting away from Neil. Finding this house.
But then I figured that I hadn’t had it easy for most of my life and especially not the last seven years, so I was owed.
I asked Marla if I could view the house today, and she said that would be no problem. I did think it’d be best to be honest, so as not to waste my time or hers, and I told her that I didn’t have references, but I could pay cash up-front, which she seemed more than happy with.
So, my appointment to meet her at the house is at one thirty. The bus was due to arrive here at one, which would give me a chance to get to the house. I pull out my phone to search for the address on Google Maps and see the time on my phone display—1:27.
Fudge knuckles.
I didn’t realize the bus was even running late.
I quickly type the address into Google Maps to see how long it’ll take me to walk there.
Fifteen minutes.
I fire off a quick text to the realtor, letting her know that I’m running a little late, and then, hooking my duffel higher on my shoulder, I start walking.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m walking down a beautiful tree-lined street. It’s so peaceful down here. The only sound is from the birds.
The map tells me the house I’m looking for is near the end of the dead-end street.
A minute later, I spot the rental sign and the house that sits just beyond that.