Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Halfway through the sandwich, I remembered the fire out back. Thankfully, it hadn’t gotten out of control. The flames had died down quite some time ago if the lack of heat was any evidence. I returned to the house and finished the sandwich. Sitting on the couch, I wondered if Ashford had a florist with an online shop. I logged back on and did a search with no luck. Googling gave me what I needed, though. I scanned through my options and placed an order. I had no clue if it would work, but at least I’d tried.
Searching through my closet, I thanked Shelby for packing a brand-new set of sheets. I had to laugh as I realized they were flannel. I’m sure that was a dig to my choice of town and state but as I laid down on them, I didn’t care. They were comfortable. I rolled over, drifting off to sleep, trying my best to leave the day behind me.
I tossed and turned all night, waking in a cold sweat at one point. I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. With thoughts crowding my head, I sat at the desk and started typing again. The words and thoughts flowed through my fingers, and I felt better than I had in a long while. At least better than I had where writing was concerned. With Tara, I felt just as bad.
When the sun came up, I stretched, making myself step away and lie back down. I had no place to be. I could stay in bed as long as I wanted. This time, my sleep wasn’t as scattered.
I woke up a few hours later. It was late in the morning. After I showered, I remembered my phone was missing. I headed outside, looking in the truck. I found it under the seat, toward the back of the cab. It must have landed back there when I’d taken the corner too fast. Flipping it open, I realized it was dead. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t imagine anyone had called.
There was a part of me that hoped I was wrong. Plugging it in and seeing a message from Tara would make my day. Unfortunately, both the call and text log didn’t show anything new when I took it to my room and connected it to power. Sighing, I left it in the room to charge. I had things to do, and continually looking to see if she’d reached out would only slow me down.
17
TARA
My parents weren’t home, which was a good thing. I needed some time to cool down. Reviewing my behavior in the last hour, I wasn’t super proud. I’d definitely gone off the deep end, not even letting him explain. I wasn’t sure why I’d reacted that way. Maybe it was because he nailed my initial purpose? I felt I had a right to be mad, but I wasn’t certain I needed to go as far as I did. Telling him to go fuck himself? Classy, Tara.
As mad as I was, I completely understood where he was coming from. He’d had people prying into his life for the last decade and more. The prying led to a choice that changed his entire world. And here I was, another reporter showing up at his doorstep. I didn’t blame him for being suspicious. I was hurt, though. That’s where my anger came from, causing me to lash out. Just because I could explain, it didn’t make it okay. What was it they said? You can apologize, but it doesn’t take away the pain you caused.
I’d thrown my clothes from the bonfire, and a few others spread throughout my room in the washing machine as soon as I’d come home. After that, I’d paced in my room. I had all this energy and no idea what to do with it. Five times now, I’d picked up my phone to text an apology. I didn’t follow through simply because I needed to figure out what last night meant and what I truly wanted before I made any promises. Was there a way to keep him in my bed and get the interview? Laughing to myself, I probably didn’t have a stitch of a chance left. Which just made me want to cry. I hated crying.
Grabbing my laptop, I hoped to focus on work, or my lack of a job would help me push through this. I certainly wasn’t going to sit here and stew all day. Lucky for me, my personal life wasn’t the only thing in shambles. There were freelancer sites I could register for, and I needed to update my resume on the job sites as well. If I truly wanted to make a go at the type of writing I wanted to do, I had to put myself out there. I didn’t have much time to make a decision.