Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
His twitch of a smile isn’t one I’m sure if I’m imagining happened or actually did.
“The days you miss don’t require a substitute to cover – due to you not being a teacher – so really it’ll be about you making up the time you need – which given all the extra hours you put in shouldn’t be hard – and ensuring that the janitorial staff can pitch in if something crazy happens like a toddler Hulking out and throwing an entire container of black paint at a mural in their classroom.”
Merrick loudly chuckles at the idea.
“Just whenever you split town, whether it’s in the middle of the night or middle of the day, just give me a call here at the office or shoot me a text to let me know, please.”
He smiles gleefully again. “I can definitely do that.”
Thankful this conversation isn’t at all what I thought it was going to be, I warmly inquire. “Do you know what they’re having?”
“No.” His face immediately frowns. “And they won’t tell me, either. None of my effing brothers will. I think Knoxie is forcing them to keep it a secret. Probably used some high threats. Ohhhhh…probably food related threats. Those always worked growing up.”
They work now for me as an adult.
“Pretty sure she’s punishing me for not moving back home. She’s still a little bitter about that ish.”
There’s no reason to stop myself from snickering. “That Merrick McCoy charm doesn’t work on her?”
“Depends on the day.” His playful wink is followed by an exit announcement. “I’m gonna head out to the shed and make sure they didn’t eff up the delivery.”
“Let me know if they did.”
“Of course.”
His disappearance leaves me with a false sense of relief.
There isn’t a teeny tiny piece of me that thinks that the subject of Ry is closed.
No.
Most likely, he’ll try to open it after his shift is over which means what I need to do is to leave early to avoid having that talk before I’m ready.
Not that I’ll ever be ready.
For that conversation.
For any conversation involving my first love popping back into my life again.
Wonder how long I can keep just roadrunnering away when someone brings him up?
I can probably get away with a couple more days of it at least.
**
The fat droplets on my windshield are not enough for my wipers yet still manage to startle traffic into misbehaving more than I’m anticipating.
It takes an extra twenty-five minutes to get home, more than making up for me leaving the building, although not work, early.
I simply transferred having calls on my office phone to my Bluetooth.
As much fun as explaining to Andrii how to handle telling our local food sources that their orders were not up to code was not, it still beats the shit out of calling Katherine back to further discuss my recent fuck up.
And it was a thousand times better than having to figure out a way to tell Merrick that I don’t wanna talk about or think about his roommate.
Probably ever.
Which given how much I have over the past few months is absurd.
But honestly?
That’s most likely why.
Why I don’t wanna face him or deal with it right now.
For lack of better phrasing, I’m fucking exhausted.
Being mentally and emotionally present is exhausting.
Deciding who you are or who you wanna be is exhausting.
And deciding on who you want to be with?
Fuck, that’s the most exhausting shit of all.
I just need a little bit of time and space to process everything.
Breathe.
After killing the engine, I grab my workbag and head for my front door, thoughts of ordering pizza more prevalent than anything else.
“Pres,” a familiar voice calls out when I’m just steps from my front door.
That timber.
That tone.
My head slowly shakes is disbelief.
It’s not him.
It can’t be him.
“Pres…”
This time I do what I know I shouldn’t.
What I know I have no fucking business doing.
I glance over my shoulder.
Watch him leisurely cross from where he’s parked towards me.
Huh.
How did I miss that?!
How did I miss a complete stranger’s car parked outside my house?!
And how did he get into the neighborhood?!
Am I going to have request a new pin number now so that this shit doesn’t happen again?
“Pres,” he repeats, with certainty and uncertainty alike.
How is it after a decade my name still sounds so goddamn magical.
So fucking treasured.
So…loved.
On a deep inhale, I try to force my shaky hand to steady just enough to get the damn key into the lock. “I have to…” It only takes one actual look at the object to realize I can’t get into the house with something meant for the mailbox. “I have to go.”
“Wait,” Ry pleads with such desperation that my body instinctively melts in place, “please?”
I don’t wanna wait.
I wanna go into my house.
Slam the door between us.
Sag against the door and order pizza I can sob into all because I don’t understand how after ten years I’m still longing for someone who’s supposed to just be nothing more than a distorted memory.