Page 142 of Pink and Country

Nothing. No one could help me. Except Carter.

In college, when we learned about Travis’s illness, I did my best to avoid crying in front of him. I did it at night when he was deep asleep, in the shower when I was alone, or in my car in-between classes where no one could witness my heartbreaking sobs.

After Travis passed, all the unshed tears I had kept inside for too long came out. I cried nonstop for weeks.

Same as how I felt now.

I lost the only two men I allowed myself to love utterly and completely because of things I had no control over. I lost them both when I needed them the most.

This time, my heart would never heal. And I’d love no other man the way I loved Carter Hills.

“Hey, Taylor. Come join us.” Saunders invited my friend-slash-bodyguard-slash-roommate to eat with us. Taylor shook his head, a lopsided smile grazing his lips, and sat beside me. This was my new normal. The three of us—four when Reed joined us—having lunch together.

My best friend left, and Taylor disappeared to his room to call his wife. After I cleaned up the kitchen, I retreated to the living room. My head pounded. With the tips of my fingers, I massaged my temples.

A chime on the screen of my laptop caught my attention. A new email. From Jill, my agent. I sent her a complete draft two weeks ago. It wasn’t my final version, but it was good enough to give a great overview of my story.

With a shaky finger, I clicked on the message.

April, I’ve submitted your draft to your publisher, and they’re happy with your work. I’ve attached a document with your editor’s notes. She should be in touch with you in a few days.

Like I told you on the phone last Thursday, I know your life is a mess right now, but I’m here if you need to talk.

Hold on, the storm will pass.

Jill

A ghost of a smile peeked out at her kind words. My life lacked luster. Nothing got me raring to go these days.

Not the pink glazed donuts Saunders brought me every morning.

Or the hot chocolate Taylor learned how to prepare the exact way I liked it.

Not the moon high in the sky at night.

Or the sunrise in the morning.

But this, knowing I battled insomnia and wrote something my publisher liked, filled my heart with specks of hope.

Taylor finished his phone call and joined me.

“Anything I can do?” he asked from his six-foot-six-inch height.

I forced a small smile his way. “No, I think I’ll take a nap. There’re leftovers in the fridge for dinner. You know the drill. I’ll see you later.” I squeezed his forearm as I passed him.

I hid in my bedroom and shut the door after me.

Sleep didn’t come.

My hyperactive mind refused to shut off. Damn it.

My thoughts wandered to Carter.

The picture of him in my mind faded a little more with each passing day.

My stomach churned, and the tears returned.

How would I survive?