I don’t look away from it. It’s almost like I’m waiting for it to explode. Once I’m done with my food, I can’t shake the thoughts of the texts from my sister.
When I pick up my phone, looking at the thread again my fingers hover over the keys, not sure what to say. If I should say anything.
Finally, I make up my mind. One text won’t hurt. Maybe I’ll feel better, and maybe it’ll make her feel better as well.
Bailey: I miss you too.
I drop my phone down. It’s not a lie, but it’s also notsomething I’ve said in so long. I need a distraction. I almost want to message Wes, but that would require looking at my phone and I want to avoid that like the plague right now.
Glancing over at his house I see he’s not home and let out a groan. I could take a page out of his book and go for a drive to nowhere, but that sounds a lot less appealing alone in the afternoon.
Instead, I opt to take a bath and try to distract my mind. I just hope it’ll be able to shut off at least for a little. All I can hope for is the chance to relax.
CHAPTER 30
Wes
Keepingmyself busy is not always easy, but I’ve managed to do it. Not because I’m avoiding Bailey, but because I feel like she wants to avoid me. I don’t know where we stand and I don’t want to ask.
I’ve been getting home late when her lights are already off. I haven’t reached out because I don’t want to push her after things started to escalate so quickly.
The one thing I have done every day is go back to the shelter. I like to see that some of the dogs are gone from the day before because they’ve been adopted. I check in on any interest in Bruno, and every day I get the same answer.
I’ve walked Sadie every day and a few others. I go to Jameson’s to help. Sometimes I continue to drive around. Still, nothing feels fulfilling enough. Nothing like when I’m withher.
The texts from Chris continue to haunt me. He hasn’t said anything else and I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do. He may have just been having a bad day. Everyone has days wherethey’re down and feeling shitty. Since I haven’t heard from him again, I chalk it up to that. We used to be close, but now I don’t really know him.
I’m leaving Jameson’s and the weirdest thing happened when he saw me; he invited me to Thanksgiving.
“You do know that’s a month away, right?” I ask, seriously concerned about his measure of time.
“Yeah, Sutton’s trying to get ahead on planning.”
I grunt my answer, “We’ll see.”
I haven’t been to a real Thanksgiving since I was a kid when my parents were still alive. We would have makeshift holidays while I was in the Army. It consisted of a lot of food, and my battalion I saw every single day. That time of year was always hard on a lot of people because they missed their families, and wanted to be home.
There were a lot of phone and video calls. I had no one to call, so it didn’t matter to me.
“I know Sutton is inviting Bailey,” Jameson offers. I make a noise of acknowledgment, but don’t really say anything before heading out.
The sound of her name has the need to see her again surging. It’s been too long, I’ve given her space, but my patience has worn out.
When I get home, her car is parked in the driveway, but I need to let Bruno out. Sometimes he comes with me to Jameson’s, but since I went to the shelter first he stayedhome.
I stand in the open doorway, waiting for him to finish his business, when that familiar prickling sensation creeps up my spine—eyes on me. It’s instinct now, second nature. I shift, standing taller, my posture ramrod straight as my gaze sweeps the area. I know someone’s watching. I can feel it in my bones. So I search for the pair of eyes that haven’t looked away.
I lock on Bailey’s face looking over the top of the fence separating our yards. My body relaxes instantly at the sight, moving to lean against the doorframe once again. The setting sun creates an ethereal glow. I know she says she’s not an angel, but right now, with the way the light is hitting her golden hair and making her mossy eyes shine, she looks angelic.
She looks perfect.
“What’re you looking at, Angel?” I ask, in what I think is a playful tone, but I know comes across more deadpan.
“Just seeing who was out here making all the noise,” she jokes. I crack a smile at the fact she’s not rolling her eyes and storming away.
Though if she did then it would give me an excuse to go over there and get my hands on her again. Instead, I clench my fists to fight the urge.
“Must have been your other neighbor; we’re quiet.”
