Chapter Seventeen

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TWO WEEKS LATER

"THE END," I WHISPERED as I typed out the two most magical words in the world of writing. I stood up, eyes wide. "I did it. I really did it! I finished my book!"

I punched my left arm in the air and jumped.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," I cheered, busting out into a series of embarrassing dance moves.

I raced over to the mirror in the bathroom. "YOU WROTE A BOOK!" I shouted. Grinning, I stared back at myself and reenacted Uma Thurman's famous Pulp Fiction dance. Pausing, I scrunched my nose and inspected my cheeks. The burns were almost gone.

Momentarily stopping the celebration, I closed my eyes and thought about Colton's smile. His dimples. The golden flecks in his irises.

How could I have been so wrong?

Knock, knock, knock.

Frowning, I looked toward the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Leaving the bathroom, I made my way to the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Coming, coming," I said.

I swung open the door and immediately screamed.

"Please," said Colton, "let me explain."

"You need to leave," I said, trying to close the door.

Colton put his arm out. "Please. Give me five minutes. That's all that I ask."

"Not here," I said, feeling unsafe.

He looked away. "Wherever you want."

"There's a coffee shop around the corner. Just let me grab my purse."

I closed the door behind me, my heart racing. Should I go with him? What if he tries to hurt me? No, he wouldn't, would he? I covered my face with my hands and counted to ten. Just calm down. It's going to be fine. You have your phone; you can always call nine-one-one if you need to. Just hear him out and be done with him forever.

Grabbing my purse, a thick coat, and my keys, I opened the door and met Colton eye-to-eye.

"I bought these for you," he said, handing me a large bouquet of tulips.

"Ah, thank you," I said accepting the flowers. "That was very nice of you."

"You can just leave them in your apartment for now. They'll be fine without water for a while."

I opened my door and set them on a small, wooden table against the wall. Turning around, I slid the key in the lock and turned it. My stomach twisted into knots. The image of his little sister's face floated through my mind.

Shivering and completely unsure if I was making the right decision, we headed away from my house and toward the coffee shop. The ding of the door brought immediate comfort.

"What would you like?" asked Colton.

"Hot chocolate would be great. Thanks."

Colton headed up to the counter while I grabbed a booth.

My hands trembled while I waited for him to join me. Why is he here? Does he know that I know about his past? Is he going to try and make excuses?

A few moments later, Colton brought over two giant cups of hot chocolate.

"It's my favorite winter drink too," he admitted.

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