Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Or he could hate me…
He made me promise not to leave without him. Or, if I was determined to go it alone, at least not to leave without saying goodbye. He said that would hurt in a way he wasn’t sure time could heal.
But I did it anyway.
In the end, I was a coward who skulked off in the dead of the night. I just wasn’t sure I could do it. If I looked into Theo’s eyes, I might have stayed, and I couldn’t stay.
I couldn’t stay, and I couldn’t go.
I couldn’t leave him, and I couldn’t take him with me.
At eighteen, the situation was a hopeless, emotional mess that I wasn’t prepared to untangle. And I’m not sure I’m much better off now. Even fifteen years of learning to be the best version of myself hasn’t prepared me to say the things I want to say to the one who got away.
Theo means so much to me. Maybe more now than he did then, in many ways.
But how to tell a guy that you’re still in love with him after fifteen years apart without sounding like a crazy person?
A panicked squeal penetrates my brooding thoughts.
I spin from the window to see Pippa Jane has vanished, leaving nothing behind but a shredded puppy pad.
Chapter Two
MACY
A second squeal pierces the rattle of the rain on the old tin roof, this one loud enough to vibrate the boards beneath my feet.
I dash toward the stairs leading to the gloomy ground floor, the one we’ve been avoiding because it smells of mildew from the leaky sink and the rotten potatoes someone left in the cupboard.
But I know my pig. She’s determined to go outside to do her business and the door is down there. She must have run into trouble of some kind on her way out into the woods.
I’m moving so fast that I’m up to my calves in icy water before the scene downstairs fully registers.
When it does, I freeze, and my jaw drops.
Water from the overflowing river pours in through the cracked windows and the old plaid couches are floating across the room. Books bob through the flood, along with pieces of art unfortunate enough to be hung too close to the floor. And in the middle of it all, Pippa Jane paddles madly in place, the water rising swiftly around her.
The moment she sees me, she squeals again, a panicked cry for help that cuts through my chest like a hacksaw.
“I’m coming, baby, hold on,” I shout, charging down the rest of the steps, until the frigid river is up to my ribs. My thick socks instantly take on liquid, making it hard to walk. I reach down, wrenching them off and tossing them aside without slowing my progress toward Pippa.
The water is up to her chin now and her paddling has grown even more frantic. She’s clearly stuck on something, and if I can’t get to her in time, there’s a chance she’ll drown.
Right here in front of me.
The thought sends me diving into the flood and swimming hard the rest of the way to my girl. When I reach her side, I wrap an arm around her, trying to buoy her up with one arm as I grope beneath the water for whatever has her caught with the other. But she weighs seventy pounds—mini-pigs aren’t all that mini except when compared to larger pigs—and I can’t reach her back legs.
After only a few seconds, it becomes clear this isn’t going to work.
I press a kiss to her cheek and promise, “I’m going to get you out of here, Pips. Don’t worry.” Then, I dive under the water.
I can’t see anything in the dark, gritty river, but when I run a hand down Pippa’s belly, she stops kicking long enough for me to feel the thick plastic wrapped around her thigh. It’s an extension cord, I think, the bright orange one almost everything in the cabin is hooked up to because my uncle Clint was more concerned with hunting than sophisticated electrical systems or aesthetics.
Pippa Jane is tangled in it and her frantic kicking has only tightened the knot above her haunch. Mercifully, however, I’m able to get it untangled pretty quickly—thank you, opposable thumbs. I burst from the water with a gasp to find Pippa already swimming hard toward the stairs.
She glances back at me, fear and worry in her gaze, but I assure her, “Go! Get to the steps, I’m right behind y—”
I break off with a sharp cry as I step on something sharp hidden beneath the water, but I force myself to keep moving forward. The river is up to my chest now. If we don’t get to the second floor soon, we’re both going to be in danger of drowning all over again.
I reach the base of the steps just as Pippa is scrambling out of the water and limp up after her, too anxious to stop until we’re at the top of the stairs and she’s cuddled close to my side.