Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Basically.”
“Good to know.” I laugh and watch him smile.
As we drive toward Nashville, I try to come up with something to talk about to fill the silence but can’t seem to think of anything to say without mentioning Matthew or the conversation leading back to him in some way. It makes me realize how much of my identity was wrapped up in him and our relationship. Sure, I have painting, my family, and even a few close friends, but most of the experiences I’ve had over the past five years of my life involve my ex, and not wanting to include him leaves me with little to talk about.
When he turns onto our block about twenty minutes later, we find it filled with cars. It happens from time to time when there is a concert or an event at the venue nearby, and people don’t want to pay to park in one of the garages that charge by the hour.
“I’m gonna drop you off out front and go a few blocks over to park,” he tells me after going around the block twice and not finding a spot big enough for his SUV.
“I don’t mind walking back with you.”
“Even in those heels?” He glances over at me.
“I could beat you in a race wearing these.” I lift my foot slightly, showing off my four-inch pump—not that he sees while he’s driving.
“As much as I enjoy a challenge, I’m not going to make you walk when I can drop you off.” He double parks in front of the building and is out of the car before I can argue. Unhooking my belt, I pick up my clutch and reach for the door handle, but he gets there before me, his big body filling the doorway.
“Thank you,” I say quietly when he takes my hand to help me out, the heat from his touch all I can seem to focus on.
He doesn’t respond. He also doesn’t let my hand go. Instead, he uses it to move me out of the way so he can shut the door, and he keeps hold of it while he navigates us between two parked cars, up onto the sidewalk, and to the front door of the building.
Releasing my hand, he punches in the code for the door, holding it open for me to enter.
“Thanks for letting me borrow this.” I turn back to face him and slip off his jacket that is still wrapped around my shoulders. “And thanks for the ride home.”
“Of course.” He takes his jacket, draping it over his arm.
“I would invite you to my place to see some of my work, but you have to move your car.”
“Another time,” he says softly.
“Yeah,” I agree, then murmur, “Goodnight, Dayton.”
After getting his quiet "night" in return, I turn on my heels and head past the alcove where the mailboxes are and the small lounge area.
It takes me a minute to get to my apartment, which is down two long hallways, and when I reach my door, I can hear PJ on the other side, the tags on his collar jingling along with his nails scraping the wood, which I already know is going to cost me my deposit. I don’t understand how he always knows when it’s me, but he does; otherwise, he would be hiding in his kennel.
“Hey, baby.” I pick him up when I get the door open. “Are you ready to go for a walk?”
At the mention of doing one of his favorite things, he begins to wiggle so much that I’m forced to put him down before I drop him. The moment his paws hit the floor, he runs to the door on the opposite side of the apartment, that leads directly outside.
Tugging at his leash that is wrapped over the handle, he gets it free and runs back to me with it in his mouth.
“Give me a second.” I laugh, kicking off my heels.
After sending a text to my dad to let him know I made it home so he doesn’t worry, I grab my cropped hoodie and put it on, zipping it up halfway, then slip on my flipflops, attach PJ’s leash to his collar, put on my fanny pack, and head out the door.
Unlike the street that the front of the building sits on, my private entrance faces a street with a few new shops and a convenience store at the end that is filled with people any time it’s open. Which, it isn’t right now, so the street is empty.
When we are almost to the park near the end of the block, I spot a familiar figure coming our way on the sidewalk, and my heartbeat immediately picks up speed.
“What are you doing out here?” Dayton asks, closing the distance between us.
“I had to bring PJ out.” I glance down at the end of the leash and realize that my pup has hidden behind me, out of sight. Rolling my eyes, I turn around and pick him up. He’s always scared of new people. Actually, he’s scared of everything, and rather than bark like most dogs do, he hides in terror.