I THOUGHT OF YOU BY JEWEL E. ANN – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Jewel E. Ann
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.6 MB
- Price: Free
IF I GIVE YOU TODAY, THERE WILL BE NO TOMORROW.
Price
Two months ago, I slid a handwritten note onto the nightstand next to a
white tissue box and a gold-framed photo of a blue-eyed Himalayan cat.
I can’t do it. Please forgive me.
Can’t or won’t?
“Can’t” made me weak. “Won’t” made me selfish.
Either way, it was with an insufferable and unavoidable pain that I’d
come to that conclusion.
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Conclusion or decision?
Hell, I didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
Nothing could prepare a person for that kind of moment. But they’d left
me with no choice. Well, that wasn’t true. There was always a choice. Was
mine an unforgivable one? That was hard to say. After all, they were my
people. I would have died for them, but not like that.
My new place doesn’t have a picture of a Himalayan cat on the nightstand,
my favorite black weathered recliner from college, or a warm body waiting
for me in bed.
It’s a fully furnished two-bedroom home in Austin, Texas. It’s all very
Pottery Barn. There’s a tufted crushed velvet sofa in twilight blue, midcentury wood tables with fake flowers in vases, and marble bookends
flanking a collection of everything from Stephen King to Margaret Atwood.
Wood floors.
Modern rugs.
And a few contemporary pieces of framed art—red poppies and birch
trees on cobalt canvas.
In the primary bedroom, above the bed, there’s a photo of a young boy
on a bicycle with a yellow lab chasing him down a sidewalk. The boy looks
like a younger version of myself.
Maybe it’s that I had a yellow lab.
Maybe it’s because my parents made me ride my bike everywhere while
my friends were in their rooms gaming.
Maybe it’s his twiggy arms and legs and wavy brown hair in a mess.
Since then, I’ve added muscle and discovered that a little hair gel goes a
long way to taming thick, wavy hair.
Whatever it is about that boy in the photo, it’s comforting.
Before five in the evening, I add a blue Honda CRX to the driveway. It
has a dent in the rear bumper, which complements my new life and motto:
Perfection is overrated. My whole life has been overrated. For a decade,
I’ve been the happiest, miserable overachiever. It’s a complicated oxymoron
that makes sense if one takes a step back to see the whole picture.
However, I’m six weeks into remedying that situation—well on my way
to underachieving the hell out of my life.
Now, there’s only one thing left to do. Find her.
Scottie Rucker looks exactly as I remember—wayward, cinnamonbrown hair just past her shoulders. Bangs brush her eyes, always a quarter
inch too long. When she laughs, her head shakes, and her chin lifts to flip
those unruly bangs away from her gleaming eyes of gold and brown.
Always hopeful.
Always pleasant.
I don’t have a single memory of her that’s less than perfect. Even our
breakup felt like fate because she said all the right words. The world makes
sense with Scottie in it. And right now, I need things to make sense.
A whoosh of cool January air whistles when a customer exits
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