Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
As soon as we’re seated, a waitress stops by. He asks for whatever beer is on tap, and I order a glass of water. I see the exact moment the difference in our ages forces its way into his brain again.
“I forgot you’re not twenty-one yet,” he mutters, brows pinching together.
“Even if I were, I’d prefer water. I’m not much of a drinker.”
As soon as the waitress drops off our beverages, he lifts the glass to his lips and downs nearly half the golden liquid.
During the ride over, energy had snapped and crackled between us. Now, the atmosphere feels different. Awkward. Uncomfortable. If it continues, it’ll end up smothering whatever is attempting to flourish, and I don’t want that to happen.
Needing to get us back on track again, I say, “Did you realize that Anne is ten years younger than my father?”
The corners of his lips wilt. “That’s different. They’re much older.”
“True, but at some point, I’ll be older too, and it won’t be such a big deal.” I lean forward, closing as much distance between us as the table will allow. “You’re the only one who thinks it’s a problem.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
After the waitress takes our order—burgers and homemade chips for both of us—another silence descends.
“How long have they been married?”
“Almost ten years.” I add in case he doesn’t know, “My mother died of breast cancer when I was eight.”
Emotion flickers in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago, and for the most part, I’ve made my peace with it.”
“Both of my parents are gone, too,” he admits. The way he forces out the words makes me think they’re not easy to convey.
I nod. “Dad mentioned it.”
He shifts on his chair and glances away. “It’s been seven years. Sometimes, I can’t believe it’s been that long, and then other times, it feels like they’ve been gone forever, and I can barely remember when it was the four of us.”
The emotion seeping its way into his deep voice has my chest constricting. Not wanting him to feel so alone, I reach across the table and lay my hand over his. It feels good to offer solace and connect on a deeper, more meaningful level. Most people are so uncomfortable with the idea of death. They give you half-ass platitudes before quickly changing the subject and moving on to a more pleasant topic of conversation.
When he remains silent, I say, “Losing Mom was difficult. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to lose both my parents at the same time.”
The muscles in his throat constrict as he swallows. “It was hard. My life was totally upended. I had to drop out of school and get a full-time job in order to take care of my younger brother.”
I have to fight every instinct to rush around the table and pull him into my arms. My heart shatters for how quickly the man sitting across from me was forced into adulthood. That’s too much responsibility for any twenty-year-old to deal with.
“Wasn’t there family who could help? Grandparents, aunts, or uncles?”
He shakes his head. “Not really. And they all lived out of state.”
“Are you and your brother close?” How could they not be, after suffering something so tragic?
Hunter Price was a senior on campus when I was a freshman. Dad always talked about what a talented football player he was.
Emotion flickers across his face before it’s quickly shuttered away. It’s only after a few beats of silence that I wonder if he’ll answer the question.
“We were for a long time.”
His words are so low that I have to strain to hear them.
My brow furrows. “But you aren’t anymore?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh.” As tempting as it is to dig deeper, it’s obvious from his forced responses that Mason doesn’t want to talk about the rift in their relationship.
He picks up his glass and takes another drink before setting it down again. “We had a falling out during his senior year of college, and for a long time, we didn’t speak.”
“I’m so sorry.” How much more can this guy deal with on top of everything else?
“Me, too. What happened was my fault. I thought I was making the right decision. Turns out I didn’t.”
“We all make mistakes.”
A steady breath escapes from him. “Yeah, well…this one was huge. And it wasn’t something he could get over or forgive.” There’s a pause before he admits, “I pushed his girlfriend into leaving town so he could focus on his future. They were apart for three years before he found out what happened. Needless to say, he was pissed.” His lips reluctantly quirk at the corners. “Actually, furious is more like it.”
I dredge my memory, trying to recall bits and pieces of information I’ve heard over the years regarding Hunter. “Isn’t he married?”
“Yup.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I ask the question that sits poised on the tip of my tongue. “Is it to the same girl you pushed away?”