Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Your parents love you, you know. More than anything.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Yeah.”
“Love don’t always look the same to different people, that’s all, kiddo. Sometimes love looks like not holding yourself back from doing the things you want to do, ’cause you know the resentment would poison the relationships you have with the people who matter most.”
Even if it means you’re leaving those people behind to pick up the pieces?
I didn’t say that out loud, though. There was no point to it.
Pop contemplated the lake in front of us. His hands lay casually ensconced in his pockets, and the curled edges of his white hair lifted a bit in the evening breeze off the water. “You know, Kiss Me Quick Lake got its name because—” he began.
“I know,” I said, trying to cut him off because I knew exactly where this was going. “I know all about the damned lake, Pop.”
I knew too fucking much.
He ignored me. “Legend has it—”
“That when a Wellbridge and a Honeycutt who ‘love true’ kiss in the lake, magic happens. Curses lift, feuds end, fireworks explode, tiny baby angels descend from above, milk and honey flow, peace fills the land, the Beatles get back together… take your pick.” I turned to give him a hard look. “No one really knows because it hasn’t happened in a dozen generations, and it’s not gonna happen in this one either. Wellbridge egos are too heavy to float.”
“Hmph. Sounds much more legend-ish when I tell it.”
I scowled. “Can we just enjoy a moment of peace and quiet, please?”
Pop made a big production of peering around at our family, as if questioning my definition of peace and quiet, and I snorted because, okay, maybe peace meant something different to my boisterous family.
Willow had dropped a burger on the ground and was giggling as my father scrambled to save it from the drooling jaws of my brother McLean’s black Lab, Lily. Castor was laughing at his phone, where he was FaceTiming the evening’s events to our sister, Georgia, in LA. And Alden was screaming at Dan to avoid parking on the “smushy” spot in the makeshift overflow parking area next to my parents’ driveway.
I caught sight of McLean standing well away from the action at the edge of the trees, smiling slightly at our family’s antics. As the middle child of the family, Mac had been born with several extra helpings of social anxiety, making him quieter and more serious than the rest of us, at least until you got him talking one-on-one.
Thankfully, Willow and Huck had “let Mac be Mac,” as they referred to it. So Mac had created his own little world here on Honeycutt land, living in a cabin he’d built himself far away from the others, where he could be closer to the animals he loved.
This situation might have been ideal, except that Mac also ended up being the one who handled bookings and maintenance on the property while my parents were gone, which I hated for him. Still, the man was only twenty-five. He had plenty of time to figure out a better situation, and I had no plans to rush him.
Mac watched silently for a long moment before meeting my eye. I brought my hand up to pull my lower eyelid down.
I see you.
His smile widened, and he plucked his shirt over his shoulder before dragging his thumb down the side of his jaw.
I’m uncomfortable. I’m sorry.
Pop grumbled. “I never did understand that stuff you boys do with the hand signals.”
I laughed and patted the center of my chest twice.
I love you.
“There’s a reason for that, Pop. Secret bro code is only for bros. You’re not one of the Honeycutt bros. You’re the Honeycutt Pop.”
“Moose talks with his hands more than his mouth these days.”
“Nah. McLean talks plenty. You just have to catch him one-on-one.”
McLean lifted a hand in salute, then turned and disappeared back into the woods. Lily let out a faint woof under her breath and took off after him at a slow jog. Nobody seemed to notice, and if they did, they were used to it.
“We gonna talk about Frog?” Pop asked after a moment, giving me the side-eye.
“Nothing to talk about.” I gave him a half-smile and bumped his shoulder with mine. “Now, let’s get some food before they eat it all.”
I murmured hello to Dan and one of Alden’s stylist friends before making my way over to the long picnic table where our potluck had been assembled. Dan had brought a tray of appetizers from the Tavern, and Castor had made one of his enormous salads. Alden, as usual, had brought the drinks.
“Here,” Castor said in a low voice, shoving a full insulated tumbler of wine in my hand. “You’re probably going to need this.”
“Am I?” I said, amused. “What for?”