Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I am strong, I am brave, I am loved, and I can do this, I repeat the mantra in my head this time instead of out loud. My hand engulfs the doorknob, twisting it while using my other hand to push the door open, knowing the wood door swells if there was a heavy thunderstorm recently. Since this is Florida, the chances are high.
“Careful. The door is fixed,” Ledger says as I almost go barreling through the doorway, ass over elbows.
“Now you tell me?” I look over my shoulder, taking another step inside, the screen door slamming behind me.
“You know now. That’s good enough.” A smooth-talking stranger is what Ledger has become, and damn if that’s not a crying shame. I refocus on what’s in front instead of what’s behind me and take a deep breath of air. The scent of my childhood home triggers memories like they happened only yesterday. How I kissed my mom goodbye her last morning alive, how Daddy went to bed one night in his hunting cabin and never woke up, or how Montgomery kissed the top of my head and told me if I was leaving the house to send him a text, he was going out to meet with a friend, without me realizing it would be the last time I’d ever see them. It still smells like home, it still looks like home, it still feels like home, and I had no idea how much I missed it until now. I take a few more steps inside. Everything is the same, yet it has all changed. My feet take me to the living room, straight to the fireplace mantle where there are pictures of us throughout the years. The happy and loving family smiles back at me. For the first time in a long time, I know this is where I’m meant to be. It doesn’t take me long to take a tour through the house, knowing I’ve got a lot of tedious tasks ahead of me. Montgomery took over our parents’ room a year or so after Dad had passed, stripped it down to bare bones, replaced the flooring, remodeled the bathroom, and then made it his own. The few pieces of furniture we kept of our parents were moved to different areas of the house; everything else was donated. The kitchen still has the same charm from when it was built, Mom preserving it through the years we lived here, then it was Mont and myself doing the same. The only upgrades were the appliances. Still, I stood my ground, making sure he didn’t go overboard on some kind of ridiculous space-like-looking gadget. I guess the plus side of leaving everything here and having Ledger and Mr. Flay take care of everything is that I’ve got a ready-made home. All I’ll need to do is unpack my clothes, add to the frames on the mantle, then head into town to figure out food. The rest I can tackle in the next week or so before I start work. I’m walking up the stairs, hand trailing along the wood handrail. The light shining across the staircase makes it light and airy. The dark mahogany floors, the trim, the doors are all in the same stain. This house is what made me want to become the interior designer I am today, working with others to showcase a house in its prime, bringing it back to life for generations to come and enjoy it. I bypass the second-floor bathroom, my bedroom, and what is now the guest bedroom, and move to Montgomery’s room. After he passed away, for a week straight this is where you could find me. I didn’t talk unless it was to Ledger. I didn’t eat unless he made me, which was often, and even then, there wasn’t an appetite to be had. I’d grab the blanket from the foot of the bed, wrap it tightly around my body and head, like we used to do after the world seemed to be so heavy with grief, when Mont was the one who held what was left of our family together. The tears cascade down my cheeks uncontrollably as I open his door, walk inside, and collapse onto his bed once again. The blanket is up and over my body, head beneath it as well as I let the tears take over. I’m allowing myself this one last time to grieve through the process of being home, then I’m going to get up, clean myself up, and get things squared away. Right now, this is what I need more than ever, a cathartic cleansing. As my therapist says, it’s okay to be sad, mad, or any other emotion as long as you don’t unpack those feelings and live there. I close my eyes, not worrying about the man I left downstairs, the one who still has me in a state of riotous emotions: want, need, desire, love, it’s all there. When I lost my virginity with a boy my second year of college, no longer sharing a dorm with three other girls, that is, it was to a vision of Ledger, his heat and body surrounding me. And the boy was nothing to write home about. God, it was horrible. Thankfully, after telling my best friend what happened, Nelle marched us right to a store and helped me pick out a toy. Let’s just say I was opened to a whole new world—different shapes, sizes, colors, some that vibrate, suction to the shower wall, and then there’s my choice favorite, bright pink in color, the two rabbit ears thrumming my clit as the dildo moves counter-clockwise or clockwise as you reach your orgasm. It was ten times better than the one college boy experience I had. He only wanted a piece of my body to throw me away the next day. Been there, done that, saw it many times over during my college life. How I made it a full year without calling Mr. Flay and begging to find me off campus housing, I have no idea.