Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
My dad ended up buying a new one for me as a reminder of the strong woman who’d come before me, and I always kept in the tears that I’d only had a few years with her until she was gone.
When I finally received my diploma and came home, I’d made a decision. I didn’t want a normal graduation party; I wanted to celebrate her life and make it something we did every summer.
Remember her, celebrate, wear crazy hats, and honor her memory—especially for my cousins and my younger brother, who’d only had her for three years.
“You doing good?” My dad walked up to me and kissed my head, then pulled me into his arms. He always smelled like fresh water and cloves. It was a weird combination, but it was comforting. He also always gave the best hugs. He said he’d learned from the best, so that made sense. Great-Grandma was freakishly strong, even into her nineties.
I didn’t trust my voice, so I just sank against him. “She always wanted me to get my degree in something brilliant, and I literally changed my major three times and ended up with social sciences after failing statistics. So, really, the fact that I even got my degree is a win.” I smiled through the stupid tears falling down my cheeks.
She’d been my best friend.
My hero.
And now, she was gone.
“She didn’t even graduate college.” Dad rubbed my back, his palm warm against my too-tight, strappy sundress as his fingers moved back and forth, back and forth. “And if she did finish college, I imagine her climbing every tree on campus, security chasing her down with flashlights and having a food fight in the cafeteria after having an argument with her psych professor over his love of bad poetry.”
I looked up at him. He sported long, brown hair and had crinkles at the corners of his eyes that just made him more handsome. “That was literally so detailed I’m alarmed.”
“Well, she was a detailed woman. Now, let’s go celebrate her life and your accomplishments after graduating Portland State.”
I groaned and made a face. “Do we have to? You know I’d prefer a book, the tree house that you and Mom helped build, and maybe one of your famous lime margaritas.”
“The margarita and tree house I can do. The book I can’t, because you’ll end up stuck in the corner of the treehouse for hours and we do have a lot of people here to honor her and you. So, let’s just go back in, say all your greetings, and then I’ll make up an excuse for you to escape.”
I turned and threw my arms around him. “Aw, best dad ever.”
“Grandma would have done the same.” He winked. “But seriously, your mom’s going to kill us if we don’t head back into the party. What’s with you and this tree, anyway?”
It was tall, beautiful, the perfect reading spot, and important to me with its bright green leaves and long branches that stretched into the sky.
I used to climb when I wanted to mentally send hate notes to August after he’d made fun of me, and then it just became my thing. I’d escape to it, staring at the house next door and hating that I was wondering what he was doing after high school every time I came home on a break. Until I found out that his life hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected either.
I’d lost my great-grandma.
He was losing his mom.
He didn’t get to go to school, while I did.
And yeah, life just didn’t turn out the way I expected it to. Now, I was stuck wondering what would have happened if we had actually become friends. I’d always had a crush on him, at least until the stupid repeat offender kept making me feel bad about myself. Now, I was left feeling bad for him for no reason. We hadn’t talked in years.
But still.
I shook my head at my dad. “Nothing, I just like the tree. It’s soothing.”
“Soothing.” He nodded. “All right. Well, I’m going to head back in. You have five minutes before your mom comes to hunt you down, or your little brother comes and farts in front of you just to make sure you’re still alive.”
Chapter Three
“There was a reason Cinderella had slippers—weaponry.”—Hazel Titus
August
She was by the tree.
“Be right back,” I told Mom, who had already fallen asleep on the chair and was tucked in with her blanket.
Her name fell off the tip of my tongue. “Hazel.”
I don’t know how she heard it the minute I was out my door, but she blinked her eyes open and looked up at me, their blue color so damn pretty. Her hair was longer, and she’d matured, that was for sure, but she’d always been innocent and beautiful—despite the mouth her great-grandma left her with.