Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Uh, sure.” Lucy shrugs. “If I’m not intruding?”
“Not at all.” Emery reaches out and squeezes Lucy’s shoulder. “You’re always welcome.”
Outside, the sidewalk radiates with late summer heat. The afternoon sun brightens Main Street, glinting off shop windows. Emery tips her head back, staring at the sky.
Halloween decorations line the street, including a twelve-foot skeleton statue in the town square that the crows have already turned into their own personal bird house.
“Crowsbridge Hollow breaks out the Halloween decorations early. The kids haven’t even gone back to school yet, but the town’s gearing up for another season of costumes, tourists, and spooky tales of half-remembered legends,” Emery says. “I better write that down. That might be a good intro.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out her small purple notebook where she jots down ideas as soon as they pop into her head.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Are you doing another series?”
“No, I told Mrs. Applewood and Mr. Baxter I’d film a quick feature on the town for tourist season.”
“That was nice of you,” I say carefully. Emery’s formed a working relationship with the town board—well, working isn’t quite the right word, she does it for free. As if she hasn’t done enough for the town.
But it makes her happy and that’s the only thing that matters to me. She’s embraced Crowsbridge Hollow as her home, and the town treats her like she’s always belonged.
“And,” she continues with a wide, devious grin playing over her lips. “We’re getting together tomorrow to nail down my Valloween idea.”
“You’re kidding.” I let out a playful groan. Emery’s more than excited about the possibility of extending spooky season all the way to Valentine’s Day.
“Nope.” She lifts her chin. “Mrs. Applewood wants me to present it at the next town board meeting.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem getting approval.”
Emery stops and glances at her arm, flexing her fingers, testing the movement, as if she’s cataloging how the art fits onto her body. She lifts her gaze to mine. “I really love it. Thank you.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever put ink into the skin of someone I love. A mark she chose. One that ties us together for the rest of our lives. Not because of the ink. We chose each other long before the needle ever touched her skin.