The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

For what?

A place to sleep? To dream without dreaming? That’s all it’s ever been.

It’s never been home.

It’s never been me.

Thankfully, the powers that be at my job were so gentle when I gave them my two weeks’ notice. I told them the truth.

I don’t belong here.

And it’s downright amazing how right it felt to tell them that.

Wiping my brow, I tape the box shut. The building manager said I could leave them on the counter that separates the mini kitchen from the pint-sized living room and he’ll ship them home for me.

He also said that with the waiting list he has right now, they’ll send in a cleaning crew and have someone else moved in next week.

Fine by me.

I’ll be home where I belong, figuring out my life with West or without him.

It’s amazing how calm I feel about that without having an answer to the most agonizing question of all.

I stare at my sad purple flowers in their vase by the sink, long wilted like prunes because I forgot to give them away or junk them before I left for North Dakota. I lift them out of the dry vase and slowly pluck the petals.

Will he, or won’t he?

And what if he won’t?

Oh, but what if he does?

A drumming knock at my door makes me jump. I glance at the clock.

It’s after midnight and the building is pretty secure, so I’m not too worried it’s trouble on my doorstep. No one gets in here without being buzzed in or knowing the code.

I wait and listen, wondering if it was for the apartment across the hall.

Then it sounds again.

Definitely on my door.

Hmmm.

Crossing the room, I peer out the peephole.

My heart hits my throat as I stumble back.

“Weston? Holy crap.” I flip the lock and open the door so fast I forget about the chain. “Oops. Hold on!” I slam the door shut and unhook the chain. My hands are shaking so hard I can’t get the little knob to glide through the metal slide.

“Sorry, just...give me a minute!” I repeat it twice before I finally get the damn thing loose and open the door again. “What are you doing here—on crutches? Oh my God. You should be in the hospital resting!”

“Not when I’m discharged, Shel,” he says, striking me down with that devastating grin.

God.

He’s so handsome it physically hurts, and it feels like a miracle to see him smiling.

I want to hug him. Kiss him. Climb him like a tree.