Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
She hasn’t kept the status quo. This card is a sign, at least that’s how I’m planning on seeing it. Even though it’s plain and unimpressive, the thought behind it is what I choose to focus on.
I drop the card to the scarred coffee table I grabbed at a garage sale a few years ago and head to my room.
My shower is quick, but I spend a little extra time in front of the mirror when I shave. I can’t do anything right now about my overly long hair, but I’m also not going to waste another day without her in order to get an appointment at Hair Force One in town either. The unruly locks haven’t bothered me until right now, not even when Mr. Hinkle asked me if I was hanging out with Hippie Jones with another declaration that if I stop using deodorant, he’d complain to the city council.
I pull on the pair of jeans that Adalynn helped me find at a department store a few years ago and the navy polo she said made my eyes look mysterious. I put on deodorant but argue against the cologne because I don’t want to do too much. It will only make the rejection worse, but before I can get to the front door, I turn back around and give my chest one spritz because she’s the one who got me the bottle last year for Christmas.
Instead of turning on the air conditioner in my truck, I roll down the windows before heading to her house. I suck in a deep breath but refuse to lose any steam when I see her driveway empty. She isn’t at the bakery either and that little bubble of hope that began to inflate in my chest threatens to pop until I turn and see her car parked beside Madison’s SUV outside of Black Widow Designs, a clothing boutique. The offerings there aren’t really Adalynn’s style, but Madison may be the one shopping.
I have to circle the block to find a parking spot, and I end up on the far side of the building. I don’t waste a second climbing out. My name is called before I can round the corner to get to the front door of the shop.
I wave at Donnie when I look over my shoulder and realize he’s the one who called out to me.
He doesn’t smile at me, but that’s nothing new. Donnie isn’t exactly the type of guy who grins very often.
“Hey, long time no see,” I tell him as I approach.
I dip my head down to give Ronnie a little wave, but, like his brother, he doesn’t seem happy to see me either.
Maybe I read too much into the card Adalynn sent. Maybe the entire Tate clan is glad to be done with me.
“My sister’s inside with Madison,” Donnie says.
“I know. I was looking for her.” I don’t give any further explanation.
My relationship with Adalynn was never because of the twins. We’re cordial to each other, but a choice between them and her was never a choice at all. They had an issue with me when we were all in high school because back then the three-year age difference was a big deal. They kept a close eye on me, and I never once stepped out of line where she was concerned.
“We want you to leave her alone,” Donnie says.
I don’t have to lean down to verify with Ronnie that the man is speaking for the both of them. I’ve never seen them disagree on a single thing in all the years I’ve known them.
“She’s moved on,” he continues.
My jaw aches when I grind my back molars. They’ve never brought up the subject of Adalynn and me. I was never encouraged or discouraged from trying something with her since we’ve both become adults, so his insistence that I need to leave her alone now is strange to me.
“Moved on?” I ask, my hand coming up to scratch at a spot on my freshly shaved face.
“If you can’t step up and be the man she needs, then you need to clear off so she can find the guy who can.”
I lick my dry lips. “Which is it going to be, Donnie? Get out of the way or man up?”
He narrows his eyes at me.
“Our little sister deserves everything the world has to offer, but she’s been locked in some fucked-up loneliness because you don’t have the balls to tell her how you feel.”
I can’t really argue with the man. I haven’t opened my mouth to make confessions to her, and, apparently, she isn’t very good at reading body clues because if she was, she’d know from the time we spent together that she’s it for me.
“She’s my best friend,” I say, even though I know he doesn’t need the reminder.