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)
On the drive out to the Retreat, I almost, almost, opened the box and started eating the cheesecake with my hand out of spite. But it was my offering to Lily’s celebration, and I was determined not to reveal myself as the immature asshole I apparently was.
Even if it was JT’s fault I’d sunk this low.
When I arrived, the cookout was in full swing, with not only my family but lots of their friends. Someone had hung strings of colorful lanterns across the outdoor eating area, and there were already tiki torches down by the dock ready to be lit as well. My mother had even pulled out the fabric birthday pennant she used to hang up for our birthdays when we were small.
The guest of honor was decked out in a giant purple neck bow and was clearly enjoying all the attention. Meanwhile, her owner sat quietly off to the side on a split-log bench. I plonked the cheesecake box on the food table and sat down next to him.
“Happy Lily Day,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder.
McLean gave me a half-smile. “She’s a good girl. Can’t believe she’s already five.”
We stared out at the lake in companionable silence for a while as the sun dipped closer to the trees and turned the water into molten gold, all the way out to the horizon. I tried to take some deep breaths and absorb the chakra-centering power surrounding us, hoping it would ease the nervous agitation I’d been feeling since yesterday afternoon.
It didn’t work.
“Oh my god, listen to the latest Wellbridge bullshit,” Alden said, un-centering the shit out of my chakras.
I held up a hand as he approached our bench with Pop. “Nope. No thanks. This is a non-Wellbridge space. I don’t care what terrible thing Patricia said or did. I don’t care if Redmond has stolen a hundred bases or kicked a million puppies. And I for sure don’t want to hear about JT. No frog parking.” I waved a hand to indicate the entire area around us. “All frogs parked here will be toad.”
McLean snorted softly, and Alden rolled his eyes. “No, but seriously. Listen—”
I met his eyes. “I’m being serious. JT came back to town, and suddenly, that’s all anyone is talking and thinking about.” Myself included. “I need one minute of this day, here in the bosom of my family, on Honeycutt land, where I’m not being bombarded by all things JT. Okay? Can you do that for me? Please?”
Pop and Alden exchanged a look, and I caught Pop’s wince. “What?”
“Er… nothing,” Pop said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking out at the lake in a totally fake pose of nonchalance.
I narrowed my eyes. “Spill, old man.”
He sighed. “Well, it might be hard to avoid JT since he’s… here.”
I spun around on the bench and scanned the guests for the familiar head of too-gorgeous hair. No luck. “Where? I don’t see him.”
Pop inclined his head out at the water. In the near distance, I could see Milk Bottle Island, the little jut of land in the middle of the lake that my brothers and I had spent hours and hours exploring as kids. The bright red kayak was obvious, pulled on the rocky shore.
How dare that motherfucker trespass on our island?
I hadn’t realized I’d said this out loud until McLean cleared his throat softly. “Well… it’s not technically our island, though, is it? The lake belongs to the town, and so do the little islands in it. We just own this big piece of shoreline. So, really, even if Willow hadn’t invited Frog to Lily’s party when he was helping in her garden, he wouldn’t be…” He darted a look at my face and cleared his throat again. “I mean, yeah. Trespassing. Grr. Infuriating.”
I nodded once. “Fuck him,” I said, standing up and striding over to the wooden rack of kayaks. I yanked a yellow one down and shoved it to the edge of the water.
“Is he… is he going to angry-kayak right now?” Alden asked nobody in particular.
Pop sighed. “Firecracker…”
“Save me some cheesecake,” I called over my shoulder, stripping off my jeans so I was clad only in my swim trunks and sweatshirt. I’d be damned if I was going to miss the Oreo cheesecake I’d rightfully stolen just because Jonathan Island-Trespassing Wellbridge couldn’t stay where he belonged.
I pulled the paddle hard through the still water, enjoying the cool air against my hot skin and the faint lapping sounds of the water against the hull. Water drops slid down the paddle as I raised one end to cut the other through the surface of the lake.
Once I was out on the water and halfway to the island, I realized I actually felt more centered. I stopped paddling and took a few deep breaths, closing my eyes and concentrating on filling my lungs with the clean evening air.