Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Jesus. We’ve been Ava’d,” Dunn said sourly. “I’d know that woman’s handiwork anywhere.”
But I couldn’t say anything. I was too busy staring at the walls, where thousands of fairy lights hung like bunting, casting a warm glow on the pictures that had been hanging there so long I’d ceased to notice them.
There were pictures of gap-toothed little Dunn holding a fishing rod bigger than he was while his great-uncle Waylon stood beside him helping. Pictures of all three school-aged Johnson kids holding fish up for size comparison—Gracie’s the biggest by a mile. Pictures of Waylon and Red, sunburnt on the dock, beer koozies in hand. Pictures of Dunn and Waylon when Waylon was older, frailer, and Dunn was the one propping him up. And there were pictures of Dunn and me too. Pictures from a fishing tournament three summers ago and one from last spring. Pictures from last Christmas when we weren’t even here at the cabin, but sitting side by side at Cindy Ann’s dinner table…
All the most important times in Dunn’s twenty-eight years of life were commemorated on this wall.
I was in more than half of them.
I drew a shaky breath, and tears stung my eyes like I was maybe still a little tipsy.
Just tipsy enough to recognize some essential truths—like the fact that Dunn Johnson had really, truly loved me beyond measure for a long, long time, and I’d be the world’s biggest fool if I didn’t trust him with my heart.
Just tipsy enough to tell him so.
“Dunn,” I said in a low voice, clutching my wreath in my hand. “I’m sorry.”
18
Dunn
5-Down: The final part of a narrative in which matters are explained or resolved (10 letters)
I was going to kill my brother. Even though I’d made the threat hundreds of billions of times before, this time I meant it.
“Ass-face numbskull pesty little shits,” I muttered, rubbing at the red marks on my wrist from where my own brother and sister had basically hog-tied me.
I also needed to add Carter effin’ Rogers to the murder list. If he hadn’t gotten me so drunk, I would have never been such an easy target.
Needless to say, my day had gone to hell in a wisteria-woven handbasket, and I was beyond over it.
I pulled my Entwinin’ vine out of my pocket—the one I’d made weeks ago for my best best friend—and threw it at him. “There. Don’t say I never gave you nothin’,” I hollered. The little twist of vines, soft and warm from being in my pocket all day, hit him in the chest and fell to the floor with a soft tap. “Last time I’ll ever be stupid enough to do that.”
Tucker stared down at the little clinch knot I’d made him. I’d even attached a hand-tied bucktail jig to the end of it. The little sparkly lure looked pathetic on the cold wood floor. “The whole town thinks you gave a vine to Jenn,” he whispered. “And you were gonna take her out to dinner.”
Now, that just made me madder. “Like hell. And for you to even suggest such a thing makes me see red like… like I can’t even tell you how much. Have you lost your mind? Who do you think I am?” My voice was getting progressively louder as I went on which reminded me I was hungover despite still being half-drunk. “Do you actually think I give one iota of a shit about Jenn pain-in-my-ass Shipley? For real?”
As I shouted, Tuck’s eyes grew wider. He finally snapped and joined the fray. “That girl is in love with you, and you treat her like dog shit.”
Well, that just took the cake. “That girl wants my bath bomb business and my mama’s sponsorship on the Beautification Corps. She’s been using me all along thinking I’d give her status or something. I don’t know. But I do know she doesn’t know beans about me as a man.” I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “And also? That accusation is really rich coming from you. Because I am in love with you, and you treat me like dog shit!”
The harsh words filled the room like poison gas. Tuck’s face fell and his eyes filled with tears. I rushed forward and took him in my arms. “Shit, shit. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I would have said anything to get him to stop crying. I hated seeing him upset. It made the whole world wobble on its axis.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said in a broken voice. “I didn’t trust you. I didn’t listen. I… I…”
I pulled back and tipped his chin up before swiping at the wet streaks on his cheeks. “You were scared,” I said gently. “I know.”
“I love you so much,” Tuck said hesitantly. “And I’m terrified that this isn’t going to last. What do I do if this doesn’t last?”