Chapter 1 - Should I

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Wicked in Love Copyright © 2020 by Isabelle Ronin. All rights reserved.

ORDER OF BOOKS

Spitfire in Love

Reckless in Love

Wicked in Love


A/N: Please note that this is the first draft of my story. It has not been professionally edted, editeed, edated, edited or profreed, prufred, proofread, pureed.

Cameron

"You're about to make the biggest mistake of your life—"

I turned the radio off, sighing in relief when the DJ's voice disappeared and quiet filled the inside of my truck.

Too late, man. Already did that.

I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing when I felt a kink on my shoulder. Squeezed it, rotated it, still ached. It was the damned lumpy bed at the motel I stayed at last night.

This was the second day of my road trip from British Columbia back to Esther Falls Manitoba. It was a little over a full day's drive, so I had to park the truck and find some place to sleep last night. I wasn't picky, but damn that motel was seedy as hell.

Opening the glovebox, I reached for my sunglasses, slid them on. It was past six in the evening, but the sun was still high up in the sky. Spring brought longer daylight hours, and that would work well with the plans I had in mind. Plans I never had before until the phone call from a few weeks ago. The phone call that twisted something inside me. I had nearly booked a flight to Esther Falls that day but managed to stop myself.

I finished the project I was working on as soon as I could, sublet the apartment I was renting, packed my bag, hopped into my truck and never looked back.

I drove down rural roads, spotting cows and horses grazing on acres and acres of grassland. Every few kilometers, barns and farmhouses with the Canadian flag on their porches would appear, a tiny church, an abandoned and dilapidated house standing in the middle of a field like a drunken old pirate. And made me think of the one I left behind.

And of the maze behind it with haunting memories that weighed heavily in my chest.

Think of something else, dipshit.

Maybe I'd finally fix the big house that came with it. I'd been putting it off for a long time. Maybe it was time to...

There's no time for that.

But if there was... Then I should probably bulldoze the whole thing, start over. But something inside me didn't want to give it up just like that. I didn't have to destroy every piece of it just because it was broken. I could still...fix it.

The last time I was on this road was in the summer of last year. When I spotted a familiar service station, I slowed down but didn't stop. Didn't even glance when I passed it.

Already got a drink, not hungry, already took a leak.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"How long still?"

"As long as it takes."

"Come on. Tell me."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I made a fist, bit into my knuckle. And turned the truck around. Just a glimpse around the area, maybe get something to eat anyway, just in case I got hungry later. It had been a long drive from BC anyhow. Plus, I needed to stretch my legs.

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