Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
We'd made a deal.
I texted her before a job, telling her my expected timeframe. And then I texted her afterward. If it went beyond an acceptable margin of error—and having worked alongside me all the years she did, she knew what that would be—she reserved the right to call the local police and report it. Or, in lieu of them helping, call my brothers so they could get someone on it. Being outlaw bikers with a lot of connections in the criminal world, they could have someone on my case in an hour tops, if it ever came to that.
It didn't matter that it had been years. Or that she did, indeed, have a couple little Ravens running around—along with a little Roman—she still insisted on the texts.
And for just a couple moments, I didn't feel quite so alone anymore.
I wasn't someone prone to loneliness.
I liked being alone. I was solitary by nature. I found most people tended to get on my nerves after a while. That said, my alone had always included my brothers when I was young. Then Raven.
This alone? This was a different kind.
I had no one to run to after a hilarious twist to a job, to laugh with, to drink with, to blow paychecks with at local shops.
I didn't like the idea of the job getting old. Or this lifestyle getting old. All I ever wanted to do was travel, to snatch up every memory I could, to see every important sight, to live deeply, yet temporarily in every location I visited.
But it had been over a decade now.
I'd seen every state. Been to every large—and many small—attractions. I'd sampled every regional cuisine from Georgia peaches and Southern barbecue to New York pizza and Jersey bagels, and whatever weird hybrid concoctions they were always coming up with over on the west coast. I'd seen sunrises in California and sunsets in Connecticut. I'd experienced hurricanes and tornadoes and the whole other kind of natural disaster known as the humid summers of Florida.
But, well, I'd seen it all.
I didn't remember the last time I felt excited when I got a job in a different state, rushing to plan a trip to hit places I was stoked to see.
Like everything, even realized dreams can become mundane after a while.
My phone rang in my hand, making me jolt. Seeing Raven's name, I answered.
"What's the matter?" she asked, to the sound of a baby whining in the background. Little Roman was a notoriously fussy newborn, and was proving every bit as demanding a toddler.
He wants to live on my boob, she'd told me one night, sounding half-asleep. Well, he is a boy, I'd quipped, making a laugh move through her.
"Nothing," I said, shaking my head even though she couldn't see me.
"You sent an entire text without eggplant or middle finger emojis. Something is up."
"We can't forget my favorite emoji. I couldn't live without the facepalm. "And nothing is wrong."
"I know you better than that. You sound off. Don't make me Facetime you to confirm my suspicions. I'm a complete wreck. No one wants to see that."
"Your 'wreck' is most people's 'good day.'"
"Wasp..."
"I don't know. I'm bored. And not excited about anything," I admitted, because she was my safe space, because I could trust her with that small bit of vulnerability.
"Come home," she demanded automatically, worry slipping into her voice, knowing I was never someone prone to dark moods.
"I am home," I reminded her.
"You know what I mean. Come to Navesink Bank. I would love to see you. The kids too. And your brothers. Their kids. We all miss you so much. It's been forever."
"It's been two months since my last visit."
"And that is forever."
"I'm okay. Really. I think I just need to get out of California for a while. Everyone is too happy. It's pissing me off."
To that, I got a snorting laugh. "You're ridiculous. Well, point Wanda in this direction. I'm not saying you have to come here, but if you end up here, we'd be happy to have you."
"Wanda and I were thinking of somewhere gloomier. Like that place in that god-awful vampire movie you made me watch."
"Forks?" she asked.
"Yeah. The place where it is so rainy and moody that vampires can walk around without sparkling. Or, you know, bursting into flames like the non-lame Buffy-era vampires did."
"I know that there is no out-stubborning you, but if the mood keeps up, please come home. We can binge-watch old TV shows and reminisce."
"You have three children. Binging is out of the question."
"Not if I pawn them off on friends or family. I can always make time for you. You know that."
She could.
But that didn't mean it was easy for her to do so.
She had her life.
I had mine.
Our paths tended to connect for a couple hours every few months. Or longer over the winter since Wanda didn't like living in cold conditions in the harsher months, not having that great of insulation or the kind of heating system that would work round-the-clock.