Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
We both hop out at the same time. He circles it and then reports, “It’s still in one piece.”
“That’s good. No bear attacks.”
I like that my jokes make him laugh. “No, no bear attacks.” Heading back for the truck, he says, “I can call the mechanic to see when they can get it towed in.” He leans against the truck, scrolling on his phone.
Standing on the passenger’s side, I look out at the valley below. The view steals my breath, and I cover my heart with my hand.
“Pretty amazing, right?” Laird comes to stand next to me. Our bodies aren’t touching, but there’s still a sense of intimacy.
The sun isn’t setting, but it hangs lower in the sky, and the clouds are even sinking in the valley. “Nature’s showing off.”
Reaching over, I hold his hand. His grip tightens around mine, giving me that sense of security he did back at the cabin. I love that it moves with us instead of being trapped in a bubble. We’ve shared so much of ourselves that I don’t feel vulnerable around him. I feel like myself.
Not needing to be loud in the beauty of the environment, I say, “The progress was slow in the healing process.” I keep my eyes steady ahead, though I feel the weight of his gaze hanging on me. “The frustration with not remembering . . . I could overcome so much physical damage, heal, and see the results. But the memory loss, the loss of my prior life, my career, even my freedom to some extent was gone.” I take a slow and calculated breath, not wanting to take a mental step back. I dance around the details to avoid regressing, but what if this wide-open valley could help me on the journey? It sure does make it easy to believe in miracles.
I continue. “I could be happy for my best friend and enjoy her wedding, even help oversee the menu after the accident. I could laugh while spending time with her family. She has the sweetest baby. I could shop in New York City, look the part, and even dress it. Lunch with the ladies from Beacon Pointe like I’d been raised, but that wasn’t me. Not on the inside. I always hated that scene. That’s why I left in the first place.”
Shrugging, I laugh with no humor involved. “Imagine ending up in the place you most despise. That was the hell I was living, but I was too scared to be on my own again.” I glance over at him to find his expression shifted into neutral. I suppose for my well-being.
“Why did you despise that life?”
“My biggest fear was becoming a mini version of my mother. I would never marry for money. I have no interest in having kids to use as bargaining chips. But there I was, feeling indebted to her while sitting like a good little girl in my Sunday’s best at every fundraiser she’d guilt me into attending. Prim and proper.”
“As hot as that is to imagine for a little role-play, it’s the opposite of who you are. The accident fucked up a lot of things, including messing with your head. But I think you’re right when you said you were scared to be on your own. You had to fill the hole in your memories with something—”
“Fear.”
He nods, angling toward me as he leans against the side of the truck. “Look, I don’t know your mother or anything about her other than what you’ve told me, but you’re nothing like her. Clothes didn’t change you. Your fears did.”
I don’t know why I thought this was the place to unload, but regret hasn’t taken hold. Laird’s managed to get me talking, and it feels good to release some of what I’ve been hiding inside, especially in the fresh air.
Marina is amazing, the best friend I could ever wish for. But she doesn’t need me weighing down her happiness. She has her husband and a baby, a busy life, and her acting career. She has enough on her plate, especially after doing so much for me in the past two years. I can’t burden her.
Is it fair to place it on Laird’s shoulders?
Treading carefully, I ask, “Is fear what happened with you? Fear of being alone after your loss?”
“No,” he says, redirecting his attention back to the safety of the scenery. “I was fucking pissed.” He chuckles to soften the blow, but when I look at him, his eyes don’t hold the same emotion. “I was angry.” When he glances at me, he adds, “I was in love.”
“What happened to her?”
Kissing my hand, he seems to think about the answer. After taking a long inhale, he replies, “She didn’t die. Well, in some ways, I guess she did.”
“Oh.” I don’t know why that nugget twists in my gut. “That’s good.”