Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Renee turns away and reaches for something on the dash. Her headlights turn on, and they splash against the back door of the bar. I turn my back on Renee and stride over to my own car. She looks out her window and lifts her hand to wave to me.
I wave back, hating every second and regretting it all, while wanting it all back.
Then she backs out of her spot, her tires cutting new tracks in the snow, and pulls carefully out onto the road. Renee pauses to make sure there's no traffic, even though there hasn't been another car since the one that drove by, then starts down the road.
I wasn't going to stand here and watch her leave, but that's what I end up doing. Her tail lights flash red a couple of times as she makes her way down the road. I can see her silhouette in the front seat when the moonlight hits her just right. I don't have enough time to watch her before she turns on her blinker, stops, waits...
And goes.
And then she's gone, and the road's dark. Bar's dark. Sky's dark.
I swallow hard, then unlock my car and dig my ice scraper out from the back seat. No ice tonight, but there's a thin layer of snow. I brush it all off the car and watch it fall away, disappearing as it goes. Then I drop into the driver's seat. The leather's cold and feels pretty damn unwelcoming after the warmth of the bar and the warmth of Renee. I pull the door shut behind me, shutting out the wind, and start the car.
I fucking hate this.
Maybe I should have run after her. But every time I do, she runs faster and farther away from me.
“It wasn't pretend for me,” I whisper what I wish I’d told her the very first time she said it. It's too late for Renee to hear me, but I have to get the words out anyway. I flick on the headlights and they light up a piece of the empty road, some dark trees, and the rest of the night without her. “I love you, Renee.”
I let my head fall back against the headrest.
Nobody heard me say it, but that doesn't seem to matter.
“Fuck,” I admit in the silence. “I know I do, and it's not the same for you.”
I need her to know I love her. Even if she doesn’t love me. I can’t not let her know. She broke my heart regardless. It’s hers to keep. So she should know.
Renee
It's still snowing as I drive home to my apartment. Twice in one year. What are the odds?
If it snows three times, we could have a white Christmas, if the snow stays long enough.
The snow can’t distract me from all that happened today though. I never should have gone into work, and I knew it. I never should have done any of this. Griffin didn’t deserve it. I knew from the very beginning he deserved better than me.
My heart hurts as I drive back in silence, but my head is clear in a weird way that scares me a little bit. I left all my emotions in the break room at the bar. The moment I turned my back on him, I turned my back on a part of myself.
The part that still had hope.
I guess I should use this time to make a plan. I can't keep working at the bar, not when I’d have to see him every day. I can’t walk in and just smile knowing he sees through it.
But I have to keep working there until I can find another job. If I can. There aren’t many jobs here hiring. The numbing pain spreads through me and I let it. It’s something to feel at the very least.
I pull into a spot in front of my apartment building and sit for a minute, watching the snow come down on the windshield. I don't have one of those things to clear the snow off it, if this turns into real snow. Nobody needs one very often in Beaufort.
There's nobody in the parking lot. I always check before I get out of the car. It's still and quiet this late at night. I get out, lock the car, and head inside.
The second I shut my front door behind me, all the emotion from earlier rushes back into my chest. It feels like I'm going to drown in it. I've made so many mistakes. And if those weren't mistakes, then doing the right thing doesn't feel right at all.
It’s all just a mess. I don’t know where to start cleaning it up, but I know I should be alone when I do it. He doesn’t deserve this. That’s all I keep thinking.
He doesn’t deserve this. And he’ll find better.