Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
The bacon pops and sizzles, but the mouthwatering smell of salty, fatty goodness is a little bit lost on me at the moment.
I feel heavy in my gut and chest. It’s the kind of heavy feeling that was lifted after Granny adopted Atlas and me together and gave us a new life. The kind of heavy that feels lonely for someone because you’ve been there, and it’s a shit place. Except, for me, I was never truly alone. I always had my twin brother.
I guess it’s the kind of lonely I’ve started feeling since Granny confessed to internet dating some dude that I’d like to find and challenge to a pissing piss of a male contest because that’s how these things work.
Everyone in my family has someone right now, someone to love them in that special way the rest of the family can’t offer, except me.
“Scratch what I said. You should help her with her suitcase.” Granny hip-checks me and points at the window to get my attention.
I shuffle over a step and watch Echo on the ladder to the treehouse, trying to lift the suitcase up behind her. It must weigh a ton because she can’t get it more than two feet off the ground before it slumps back down. To be fair, climbing a ladder with one hand while lifting such a huge suitcase with the other hand has to be a crazy advanced level of difficulty.
“Do you think there are raccoons in the backyard at night?” I ask innocently. “If there are, I don’t think she should stay out there. They seem hell-bent on vengeance.”
“She’ll be fine. The treehouse has a door and wooden slats that lock over the windows. I checked it out thoroughly before I asked her if she’d like to stay there. I would never ask a young woman to camp out in some makeshift fort unless I knew she would be safe.”
There’s a heck of a lot of condescension in Granny’s tone, and I get why. Granny has been doing this for a long time—keeping us safe. This isn’t her first rodeo.
“Also? That tree could survive any kind of apocalypse you threw at it. Look at the thing. Six trunks, huge branches, and it takes up half the backyard. Whoever rented this place out built it right.”
“Maybe they had a relative coming to stay. Or maybe a mother-in-law, and instead of building a pool and a pool house, they opted for a tree fort.”
Granny chuckles. “A mother-in-law.” She walks over to the fridge and pulls out two cartons of eggs. “Better go get that suitcase hauled up there and then come in for breakfast. I’m starting the eggs and coffee right away.”
“Don’t burn the bacon,” I caution.
“Just because it happened once doesn’t mean it will ever happen again.”
I make the I-see-you sign by nearly stabbing myself in the eyeballs with my fingers and then pointing them in her general direction. “That discussion still isn’t over.”
“Great. I’m very excited to tell you all about my new man. I’ll fill you with my happiness so you’ll be all overfull with joy and loveliness and have no room for jealousy.”
“Jealousy?” I scoff. “It’s not jealousy!”
Granny shrugs. “Isn’t it?” Then, she points to the window. “Treehouse. Now.”
“Right, right. I’m going right now. But I still see you.”
“That’s lovely, Orion. I’ve been carrying on a secret internet affair for a year now. Did you see me then too?”
“A year?!” I nearly keel over.
Granny chuckles and sets the eggs on the counter. She ignores me as she pulls out a second pan and starts cracking eggs into it, one after another. She only makes scrambled eggs, but they’re the best scrambled eggs on the planet.
This isn’t a battle I’m going to win, so I do what I can and take my ass outside. The day is warm already, even first thing in the morning, but I guess out here, the heat generally stays around for a lot longer, which I guess is why people choose California as a winter vacation destination. The rest of the world is settling into chilly mornings, frost on the windshield, dead leaves, and harvested vegetables, and we’re out here solidly in the land of warm morning sunshine and palm trees swaying in the distance.
“You stupid, son of a pineapple, butter on a biscuit, motherfluffing gitch of a pumpkin pie….” Echo grunts, cutting off her tirade. She hasn’t seen me yet, so I approach with caution.
The suitcase slumps to the ground again, and she pauses on the ladder up to the impressive treehouse, which really does look solid enough to be used as a stronghold in the event of a zombie attack.
I clear my throat to announce my presence, and she yelps. “Gah! Son of a mother of a turd!” Her hand slips on the ladder, the suitcase gets released and ends up on its front in the grass, and she slides down the ladder rungs, falling with a scream.