Read Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 11 for Free Online

hear. A nudge told her he didn’t buy it. “What?”
    “Come on, what’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Ok then, what’s on your mind?”
    He knew her too well. “ I was just trying to see how—” She couldn’t answer. “I can’t.”
    His other arm wrapped around her. “ I don’t understand , but I want to .” He bent closer and whispered in her ear, “You need to try to learn to trust me. We have to be able to talk about things.” Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Listen to me. The girl is supposed to be telling the guy to talk.”
    “Really?”
    “Guys have a reputation for allergies to discussions—particularly if feelings are involved.”
    “How did you know?”
    “Because the only thing you aren’t comfortable with has to do with feelings… and usually in conjunction with me.”
    Her breath caught. “You scare me.”
    “Can I take a guess?”
    “No?”
    Chad shifted her so he could meet her gaze. “I’m going to anyway. In fact, I’m not going to guess. I’m just going to give you my thoughts. Trust. Consider everyone you’ve met in the past year. The fear you feel—you learned it from your mother.”
    “With reason—”
    “Y eah , but Willow…”
    “Yes?” She barely choked out the word.
    “You aren’t her. You haven’t had the same experience. I am not Steve. ”
     

     
     
    Groundhog Day arrived overcast and occasionally drizzly. Chad worked from six until two and then again at six again. She had tried to sound sympath etic to the long hours he had to work, but all she could think of was a full Groundhog D ay—alone. She could do all the fun things she and Mother used to do and without him hovering.
    Oatmeal—and canned cherries. A smile grew as she threw back the covers; the stove was warm. He’d stopped by to fill the wood box—probably what woke her up. Jeans, thermals, flannel shirt, wool socks, and a sweater—the perfect outfit for a cold day.
    She hurried downstairs, braiding her hair as she went to check the stoves. The clock said six o’clock sharp. He couldn’t have been gone for longer than ten minutes. A quick jog to the summer kitchen and she had her phone. “Chad?”
    “Mornin’.”
    “You busy?”
    “Nope. Just trying for frostbite along the beat.”
    Despite his words, she heard a difference in his tone. He didn’t have the same disdain for the dreaded “beat.” “I just wanted to say thanks.”
    “I didn’t have time for Ditto. Sorry.”
    “No worries. I’ll get her and the others.”
    She heard him wave at someone, calling good morning, before he said, “I got all but Ditto and the chickens. On a morning like this, you could use a horse.”
    “Not hardly. I like walking.”
    “Miss you.”
    “Do you? You were just here.” She couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.
    “Hey, I like being around you. Sue me.”
    “P retty soon it’d be no different than suing me, so I’ll pass.”
    “I like the way that sounds.”
    Ditto bleated , causing her to cut the call short. “You’re working and Ditto demands I get to work too.”
    “Well, have fun. Wish I could go woodchucking with you.”
    “See you for dinner?”
    Even over the phone, she could feel that she’d said the right thing. “Be there around four. Have some errands and have to do a load of laundry, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “If you don’t find me, just call. I’ll come right back.”
    The rhythmic motion of milking set the tone for her morning. The norm, famili arity, it all f looded her heart. A twinge of guilt twisted in her heart, but she fought back. She stopped by the cat’s pans and poured a little milk into them, before moving through her routine.
    Back in the house, the morning work passed and in no time, she banked the fires and pulled on her coat. Time for the walk. Three steps outside the door, the rain drizzled again. She dashed back inside for their oversized umbrella.
    As she grabbed it, the chokehold of grief strangled her. Mother