Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Harleigh sighed then just as a gust of wind blew through and blew her hair back from her face.
The lightning that continuously streaked across the sky kept lighting her up in random blasts, giving me views of her face and expression that were making my heart beat fast.
“What did you do then?” she asked.
“Then Vanessa tried to explain how ‘it was just one time’ and ‘it didn’t mean anything,’” I explained. “My buddy, Charles, I actually believed. Charles, apparently, had no real recollection of the night in question. He knew that he’d slept with someone, but he’d had no clue that it was Vanessa.”
“You believed him?” she asked curiously.
I nodded. “Vanessa said that they’d both had really bad shifts. I’d been off that day to get a root canal. They’d been partnered up, and a really bad accident involving a child and a pregnant woman occurred toward the end of their shifts. After work, they went to a bar and drank away their worries. Though Vanessa stopped before she got drunk, whereas Charles didn’t. The cab they got drove them back to Vanessa’s apartment, and from there, Vanessa took advantage, for lack of a better word. Apparently after they were done, she sent him home in a cab, and then went on living her life as if she hadn’t just irrevocably changed two lives with the decisions she decided to make.”
“And what happened after you found out?” she asked. “Did you leave her?”
“Not at first,” I admitted. “At least, not that she knew. I knew that day that she died, though, that I was going to leave her. I couldn’t do it. After dealing with all the shit from my mom and dad hating her, paired with me having mixed feelings for her, paired with raising a baby with her that wasn’t mine—that Charles told us point blank that he would also be a part of—I just didn’t think I could do it.”
“Your parents?” She sounded confused.
“My parents are a topic for another time,” I laughed. “They’re fuckin’ nuts, and it takes alcohol to talk about them, not coffee.”
She snickered.
“Needless to say, I don’t get along with them,” I said.
“What about Charles?” I asked. “When Vanessa passed…what did y’all do?”
“I was going to prison. Vanessa was dead. The baby was too young, his lungs underdeveloped. He didn’t make it.” I shook my head. “There was no reason to drag Charles’ name through the mud…so I didn’t.”
“Have you talked to Charles since you got out?” she questioned.
I nodded. “Actually, yes. I talked to him a few days ago when he came into the bakery. He’s doing well. Though…he’s still single. Whatever shit Vanessa put him through has kind of turned him into a standoffish guy. He’s definitely not the friend I remembered having before I went into prison.”
“You should hang out with him more,” she suggested. “He sounds like he could use a friend. Is he still a cop?”
I nodded. “He is.”
Another gust of wind carrying some rain, followed by a loud boom of thunder, had Harleigh squeaking in surprise.
I grinned as I felt the light mist settle over my skin.
Why did talking to this woman make me feel like I was free?
“My dad calls this baby-making weather,” she said out of the blue. “Every time it rains like this. Lightning. Thunder. Wind. It’s an inside joke between him and his friends. I think every single one of his friends has a kid that they claim was conceived during ‘baby-making weather.’”
I found myself grinning. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
I ran my hands up and down the length of my arms, feeling a slight chill settle over me.
Normally I didn’t get cold. Paired with it being in the upper fifties, I should’ve been perfectly content out there on the porch. But the wind was now really blowing, and every few seconds I’d get misted with the cool rain all over again, making my body feel chilled.
“I can share my blanket,” she offered, shaking it at me.
I told myself that I shouldn’t do it.
I told myself that it was a bad idea.
I told myself to sit back down and not do what I was about to do.
Yet…I couldn’t stop myself.
I wanted to move to the swing next to her. I also wanted to cuddle under that blanket and share it with her, feeling her body pressed against mine. Even if it was only our arms touching.
Somehow, I found myself moving in closer.
Standing up, I walked over to the swing and took a seat next to her, heart pounding.
She lifted the blanket and held it up for me, urging me to move closer.
It was a big blanket. King-sized at least.
There really was no reason for me to move closer.
Yet…I did it anyway.
I moved closer until her entire left side was plastered to my right.
Her legs were curled up onto the swing, though, making her thigh press against my chest.