AllFreeNovel
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How do you make your own beer? I’d like to try that.
Take my kids for trips to the lake in the summers.
Install a clothesline in the backyard of my future house. No one has those anymore!
I blink. I just installed a clothesline. She has that now.
I keep going.
Run a marathon.
Keep a blanket in the trunk for spontaneous picnics.
See a parade.
Learn how to make chili.
Go four-wheeling.
Swim in the ocean.
Fill Pike’s truck bed with blankets and pillows and go star-gazing.
I keep reading scroll after scroll, finally unable to take anymore and pushing them away.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, my eyes stinging.
I can give her all this. Every single one of these things—her dreams, the life she wants—I can give it to her. All of it.
What did I think? She wanted wealth, power, and fame? What did she say on one of her first nights here?
I don’t care about the wedding. I just want the life.
She wants a home. She wants people to love.
She wanted me to want her. That’s all she wanted.
Tears I won’t let fall spring to my eyes. “What the fuck did I do?”
Pike
I take a deep breath and hold it in as I grip the door handle to Grounders. I tried calling Cam, and I even went to The Hook again, but I can’t find her. So Shel it is, I guess. I’m sure this is a waste of time—the woman has hated me since she met me—but I’m desperate.
Pulling the door open, I step inside, music and the smell of fried food instantly swarming me. Shel stands behind the bar with only three customers in front of her, and I look around the place, seeing a few tables filled but mostly empty. It’s a pretty quiet Monday night.
I crack my neck, bracing myself as I step up to the bar.
She sees me instantly and stops drying the glass as her back stiffens. “Cam, can you serve this guy?” she calls.
I glance at the other end and notice Jordan’s sister leaning over it. She must be covering Jordan’s shifts while she’s gone.
Her head rests in her hand as she talks to some patron, but as soon as her eyes lock with mine, she stands up straight, her smile falling.
Shel starts to walk away.
“Wait,” I say, stopping her. “I’m not staying.”
“Good.”
