Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Thank you.”
And then she’s gone again and back with her friend. Seeing her smile is the best feeling. Hazel seems happier today too, which is great.
“We went shopping on the square this afternoon. They were in a boutique,” I explain, inspecting his bracelet. “We both needed more jeans and tees. Only having one change was getting old. The girls loved trying on the coats in the vintage clothes store. She gave you the gray agate bracelet. I got turquoise.”
“Are crystals meant to have special properties? What does gray agate mean?”
I steal a sip from his bottle of beer. “No idea.”
“It probably means I am incredibly understanding now.”
“Probably.”
“So understanding, you’ll just automatically tell me all about what upset you earlier without me even prompting. Because you know whatever happened, my response will be thoughtful and kind.”
“Subtle.”
“You like that?” He takes back the bottle of beer. “Reema mentioned you had a tough day.”
I sigh. “It was just a moment. One of those a whole lot of the people I love have died kind of moments, you know?”
“Sorry you were feeling low.”
“Thanks.”
His dark brows draw down. “But not all of the people you love?”
“Don’t do it, Dean. Don’t go there.”
The corner of his lips twitch in an almost smile. And I don’t smile at his nonsense. Much. “Can we talk about it?” he asks, getting serious again.
“It was just…I saw something that reminded me and…missing them is part of being alive and still loving them, right?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
And there Naomi sits, playing guitar on the other side of the campfire. When she catches me watching her watching him, she gives me a wink. Ha. Good on her for owning what she wants. Having her help with the self-defense stuff in the morning lessons is already proving useful. I can’t find it in me to resent or dislike her. Any jealousy on my part is my own problem.
“What are you grateful for today?” he asks me.
“Books. What about you?”
“Books are great. But I am going with ice-cold beer,” he says, pausing to take another swig. “This isn’t bad, but it’s not like it was. I’m still savoring it, though. Because there’s going to come a time in the not-too-distant future when there’s no more beer. First the IPAs will go. Then the ordinary lagers. Then even the stouts will turn bad. That’s when the end of the world will really start. And I don’t know a damn thing about brewing or growing hops.”
“We have a lot to learn.”
“So much,” he says. “I saw the library books when I stopped by the house. You’re ready to get the garden going?”
“The sooner we start, the better.”
“Look in any of the other stores on the square?” he asks.
“We didn’t bother going into the art gallery, antiques store, or ice-cream parlor. But the homeware store and apothecary had candles, and the café had a good stock of coffee beans. Lots of alcohol in the wine bar and the inn. There was also a solid store of condiments, some canned food, and pasta and rice in the vegan restaurant.”
“We haven’t cleared the inn yet.”
“The girls waited outside,” I say. “It was fine. I think we’ve got a decent amount of food for now.”
“We need to see what we can do about getting the power back on. In a couple of days, let’s make that trip to the big hardware store out by the highway. Take a couple of trucks and start collecting the things we think we’re going to need. Store them closer to home if nothing else. They’ll have a wider range of seeds and stuff for you to choose from,” he says. “You’re basically competent with a gun now. It feels like the right time.”
“Take Sophie with us or leave her here? I don’t love the idea of her being out there. Not only is it dangerous, but I worry about her seeing things that might retraumatize her.”
“See how trusting we’re feeling when the day comes?”
“Okay,” I say. “Did you really have to teach her how to whistle with her fingers?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s so loud and she does it in the house. My hearing is basically gone in one ear.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I don’t want to be bad cop all the time. There needs to be an even division of labor when it comes to who’s handing down the life-ruining decisions.”
He cocks his head.
“What?”
“Just imagining you with handcuffs.”
“Dream on.” I watch him for a minute. He passes me the bottle of beer again, thinking it’s what I want. “Things are going well, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
“So why are you frowning?”
Now he frowns even harder. “I don’t know. You ever feel like things are going too well?”
“Such a pessimist.”
“Maybe,” he says. “Seemed like we were in shitty situations pretty regularly out on the road. I don’t trust this quiet.”