Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Cooper moves Ruin out of the way, handing me a red Solo cup. “Say thank you, Daddy Quinn, for bringing me alcohol even though I’m boring.”
Jessica giggles behind him, and a few people who were talking loudly in their groups have quieted.
“I’m not saying that…” I roll my eyes and swipe the refilled cup off him.
“Well, okay…” Ruin leans into me, his hands coming to my knees and forcing my legs open. “Guess it’s my turn.”
I laugh loudly as my hands find his hair, and I try to fight him off. I fail. I fail every time with Ruin, because as much as he could have anyone, he has been messing around with me for six months now. The longest he’s ever been known to keep a girl around. But I’m not naive, we both have a deal. We sleep with other people. Or should I say, he sleeps with other people. I don’t care enough to do it.
I’ve been using running as a form of exercise for as long as I’ve been surfing. Surfing keeps you fit, sure, but running makes me stay fit enough to surf. I hit my six miles when I finally round the corner of our street, tearing the earbuds from my ears. A large moving truck stops outside the back entrance of The Manor, and I slow my jog to a walk, tucking my AirPods into my pocket, much to my own annoyance. Deftones is my favorite band and I just rudely cut off “Cherry Waves.” Who could it be that bought it? And why is there a moving truck? Are they not knocking that old ass house down?
Reaching for my phone in my pocket, I flick open the front gate to our house, shutting it behind me, and stopping when I see my mom swinging on the patio swing. Our house is a modest three-bedroom home. It has everything Mom and I ever needed, and since Dad died, she wanted something smaller than what we had out farther in the country. I never complained because now I am closer to the water. Right across the road.
“How was your run?” she asks, kicking off the wooden planks to gain more speed.
I climb the steps and fall beside her, leaning back on the edge of the swing. “Well, it was effective.”
“Honey…” Mom says, and I know this tone. This is the tone she uses right before she’s about to give me some lifelong advice. Most likely something my father told her. “I can get you in to see Peter. He’s a great—”
“—Mom, I love you, but no. I don’t need anyone. Just you.” I pat her hand softly. I need to get inside and have a shower before work, and I know that if I give my mother even a smidge of time, she’ll take all of it and then some to use to manipulate me into seeing a therapist. Or something worse…
I haven’t even made it through the front door when her words stop me. “Who bought Whisper Manor?” Even after all these years, the words scrape down the apex of my spine like sharp talons of a monster I no longer want to remember.
“Ah, I don’t know. I guess we’re trying to find out.”
“Well, I hope they know what goes with that house.”
I close the door behind me and drop my AirPods on top of the small table at the entrance before climbing the stairs. All the bedrooms are upstairs, with the living areas down. Mom made sure to put us on opposite sides of the house, though. Space. And I needed a lot of it.
Tossing my phone onto my bed, I quickly move through a shower and pull out my clothes for work. Work is probably not a fair name for what I do, since anything near or on the water is where I feel most at home.
After shoving on a simple black bikini, I toss on a crochet dress that stops just below my butt and toss the things I need into my bag. Wet suit, bottled water, sunscreen, Sex Wax. I quickly jog downstairs, sliding on a pair of flip-flops and grabbing my surfboard that’s resting against the wall.
Mom is still sitting where I left her when I open the front door again.
“You know, I never would have thought that house would sell.”
“Yeah?” I shut the door behind me. “Why not? I mean, I know that what happened there was traumatic for your generation, but it’s probably time someone bought it and knocked the damn thing down.”
“My generation!” Mom exclaims with a wide smile. “I will kick your ass. That happened during your grandmother’s years, not mine. You little shit.”
She side-eyes me when I blow her a kiss, jogging down the steps while pushing my glasses down the bridge of my nose.