Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Can I borrow something to wear?” I asked. Of all my cousins, Kit was probably the one I was closest to, size-wise, even if our styles didn’t exactly overlap, save for both of us liking the color black.
“Definitely. Just don’t take my lace duster. I’m wearing that tonight.”
“Seeing as I’m not entirely sure what a ‘duster’ is, I think there is a very low chance of me borrowing that,” I said as she made her way to the door, grabbing her comically large-brim sunhat as she went.
“Alright, buddy,” I said, petting the dog’s giant head. “You gotta let me up. Your mom thinks I’m gross and need a shower.” The dog seemed unmoved by my argument. “You don’t care that I’m icky, do you?” I asked, giving his ears a good rub. “Then again, you smell butts for fun, so I don’t know if you’re a good judge of stinkiness.”
I folded down, resting my head on his fluffy white fur.
“Maybe I need a dog,” I said, getting a tail thump in response to my words.
“I mean, I probably travel too much. But if I get a friendly boy like you, he could hang out here on the farm when I’m out of town. Or maybe he would keep me from moving around so much.”
You could say I was having a bit of an existential crisis since crashing at the homestead.
Because all of a sudden, when I thought about traveling, when I thought about trying to find a good game, I felt nothing. No excitement. No thrill. No motivation. Just… nothing.
But when I tried to imagine doing something different, like finally getting myself a place to call home—something that should have felt new and exciting… again… nothing.
I was starting to worry that I was maybe getting, I don’t know, depressed. It wasn’t something I’d personally experienced in life, but when one of my cousins explained his experience of it to me a few years back, he said it started with a loss of interest in things that brought him joy. And, little by little, he didn’t want to do anything anymore, not even get out of bed.
I vaguely remember him saying that his road to overcoming his was paved with exercise, leaning into things that brought him joy, spending more time with loved ones, and, for a short while, medication.
I figured maybe if I incorporated the former things, I could avoid needing the latter. Not that I’d hesitate if it came to that, but I wanted to try all other methods first.
So, I was going to start with, you know, showering. Getting myself pretty. Then going to see my family.
And maybe in the morning, I’d start a new workout routine. Something really taxing. Like running. I was going to take up running.
I could give all those things a few weeks, see if they helped. If not, I could think about making an appointment.
“Alright, buddy, bath time,” I said.
That was the magic phrase.
He darted off my lap and whined to be let outside.
I spent the next hour scrubbing myself with all of Kit’s homemade soaps and lotions, then helped myself to her black mini skirt and a pretty, lacy black tank top.
It felt better to get cleaned up, but there wasn’t a whole lot of enthusiasm in me as I rode into town with Kit and Ariah.
Redemption was a local hangout for us ever since the bike club that our parents belonged to bought it a few years back.
It was all dark wood with a familiar, cozy vibe and absolutely packed with members of our family by the time we made it there.
“There she is,” my mother said when she spotted me, a strange look in her eye that I didn’t trust.
“What is it?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.
I was preparing for teasing about my whole marriage situation.
I was not expecting her to wrap an arm around me so I couldn’t get away as she turned me.
“Your father and I were just getting to know your husband.”
Then my father stepped to the side.
And there he was.
Harrison.
He’d smartly decided to forego his suit jacket and tie, but he still looked wildly out of place in a sea of jeans and leather biker vests, in his black slacks and button-up shirt.
And, of course, he had to roll up those damn sleeves again.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, trying to pull away from my mom, but she was enjoying this too much and only tightened her hold.
“I was invited.”
“You were invited.” I glanced between my parents, but didn’t see any kind of guilt on their faces. “By whom?”
Harrison gave me a shrug and a look that said, ‘I’m not screwing up my chances at their approval by ratting them out.’
“Willa?” I asked, since I knew the two of them had previous business encounters. Even if it would gut me to know she’d done something behind my back.