Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Brittany lets out a deep breath before speaking gently. “Willa, you’re only human. You reacted in the moment. But if King explained everything and apologized, don’t you think you owe it to yourself—and to him—to at least hear him out?”
I stare into my wineglass, her words weighing on my mind. “But what if he does it again? What if I’m just setting myself up to get hurt?”
Squeezing my hand, Brittany looks at me with understanding. “You can’t let fear control your life. King is a good guy. He made a mistake by talking to Emily and not telling you, but you also made one by assuming the worst. The difference is, he’s apologized. Now you need to do the same. Be the bigger person and fix this before you lose something special.”
I wish the answer were that easy. I’m so confused by my past history playing into my present relationship. More than anything, I’ve got so little confidence in my ability to judge character, I have no clue what’s real and what’s not. I don’t want to get hurt but it also feels like doing nothing means I’m going to get hurt anyway.
The insecure woman inside me wants King to walk in, force me to talk and make it all better. But the realist in me, the one who knows if I want something I have to do it myself, accepts that’s not going to happen. Four days of silence and his line has been drawn.
If I want to cross it, I’m the one who needs to take the next step.
CHAPTER 23
King
I leisurely navigate through the brightly lit aisles of the grocery store, my mind preoccupied and distant. My friends invited me out, but I turned them down. My mood has been sour for the past few days, ever since I left that lengthy voicemail apologizing to Willa. It’s been five days exactly, and she still hasn’t responded. Two home games have come and gone, and now I’m headed off to face the Vengeance in an away game in Arizona tomorrow morning. It seems my life is back to where it was before I met Willa.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me out of my thoughts. Probably the guys with pictures showing me how much fun they’re having. I’ve given up on hearing from the one person I want to hear from.
I pull it out to check the notification and my breath catches in my throat when I see a text from Willa. It simply reads, Meet me here, followed by GPS coordinates. Confusion clouds my mind as I stare at the message. Does this mean she’s finally going to talk to me? Part of me wants to ignore it, to make her feel the same way she’s made me feel these past few days, but I know that’s not who I am.
Without hesitation, I reply: On my way.
Abandoning the items I had gathered for dinner, I exited the grocery store and hurried to my car. Once inside, I push the ignition, crank the heat and type the coordinates into my GPS. The drive is only about twenty minutes, but ominous dark clouds hang above, promising snowfall at any moment. It will be the first real snowfall of the year and I’ve been looking forward to it.
When I arrive at the destination, I realize it’s a Christmas tree lot but not the same one I visited before. The air is filled with the crisp scent of pine and twinkle lights have been strung up everywhere. Stepping out of my car, I approach the fenced-off area and spot Willa standing near a cluster of fir trees. She looks breathtaking, bundled in a navy peacoat, a cream-colored scarf, and a red knit hat. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her eyes shift until they land on me.
“Hey,” she says softly, her breath visible in the chilly air. “Thank you for coming.”
I nod, unable to find the words to respond. I’m not even sure if I should. There’s a part of me that knows I’ve said everything I need to at this point.
She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and talking to Brittany, who made me realize how foolish I’ve been.”
My chest, tight with anxiety, relaxes. A big part of me thought this was a formal goodbye, done in good grace with a face-to-face. I stay quiet, eagerly waiting for her to continue.
Willa gestures toward the trees. “I thought we could pick out your tree, if you still want to.”
No, I want to hear more but I nod, motioning her down an aisle empty of other people. The trees are far too large for my condo, but they offer privacy. We walk through the rows, the tension between us palpable and unspoken. A gentle snow starts and I resist the urge to brush a flake that lands on Willa’s cheek.