Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Whoa …
I can’t believe I’m witnessing this.
She giggles, then he chuckles, a little out of breath. Milo sounds happy the way Fletcher used to sound happy after taking Ruthie breakfast in bed. Someday, I want this kind of happiness.
I take calculated steps backward before either one notices I’m … observing.
“Would it kill you to let me into your bed?” she asks.
“Can’t. Indie pops in all the time.”
“Indie. Who names their kid Indie?”
I frown, batting my hand at a fly.
“Her name is Indiana. Indie Ellington. It’s a fucking fantastic name.”
Again, Milo uses the F-word. I have friends who use it occasionally, but not as casually as Milo uses it. I like how he says it before the word “fantastic” about my name.
“That girl is gonna be messed-up. No mother. A father who ignores her existence. And she goes to boarding school.”
“She has me,” Milo says. “And she’s getting a good education.”
“You?” The woman laughs while they make rustling sounds with their clothes. “You’re not related to her, which means you need to stay as far away from her as possible.”
“Why?”
I hear the zipper of his jeans.
“Because rumors could get started. She’s young, but not that young. She’s a pretty blonde with long legs; her tits are starting to develop, and her daddy has more money than God. If you cross him, he’ll throw your ass in prison with your brother just for looking at Indie.”
“You can’t be serious. I’ve been driving her to school since I had a driver’s license. Mrs. Ellington trusted me. Fletch trusts me more than his own goddamn family. And I guarantee that’s how Indie thinks of me … like a brother.”
“I’m just saying … watch yourself, Milo.”
“Listen, you need to head out. It’s her birthday, and I have a feeling Fletch has no fucking clue. I need to do something for her.”
This makes my heart swell. He remembered.
“How old is she?” the woman asks.
“Fourteen.”
“Newsflash, Milo … I lost my virginity when I was fifteen.”
“Your point?”
“Hormones … She’s gonna have a lot of hormones to deal with. Guys will take notice. And while Mr. Ellington is oblivious to her existence, someone needs to ensure she doesn’t get into trouble. You know … young girl with no father figure. Daddy issues. Boom! She’s pregnant because she gives it all to the first guy who pretends to care about her.”
I cringe when the board beneath me squeaks. Does she think I’m that stupid? Just because she was a whore at fifteen doesn’t mean I’m that desperate.
Milo and the woman remain quiet for a few seconds. I don’t even breathe. If he caught me, I would be mortified.
“Noted,” Milo finally says. “And it’s gonna be hard for her to get knocked up at an all-girls school. Now … move along.”
I hear the smack of lips and a tiny hum of pleasure. He’s kissing her goodbye. I turn and run toward the house. I’m no longer in the mood for a mug cake.
4
STOLEN DREAMS
“Indiana, where the hell do you think you’re going?” Fletcher says when I jog down the stairs, the stench of cigars suffocating me.
“Out.” I tuck lip gloss into my purse.
It’s the summer before my senior year—less than a year before I get the hell out of here for good.
“Not wearing that, you aren’t.” He eyes my short denim skirt and crop top.
“You’ve ignored me for seven years, and now that I’m months from being an adult and a year from going to college, you’re suddenly taking an interest in me?” I roll my eyes, tapping my fingernails on the banister.
Milo strolls around the corner, holding a glass of hard liquor in one hand while his other hand slides into his front pocket. He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, eyeing me … differently.
They’re drinking together. Fletcher and Milo spend so much time talking shop and drinking expensive whiskey.
In the background, pots and pans clank in the kitchen. The aroma of herbs simmering with something delicious Micah’s cooking up saves me from the nasty cigar smoke. Sadly, I won’t be here for dinner. That would require me to spend time with Fletcher.
My gaze flits from the vicinity of the kitchen back to Milo.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have a hard crush on Milo Odell. I’d be lying if I said he’s not whom I think about when I masturbate. And I swear he’s looking at me differently.
The years have only made him sexier. Thicker beard but still closely trimmed. More scars, like the one by his eye. Broader shoulders covered in dense muscles. He’s … all man.
“Go change or I’m taking away your phone,” Fletcher warns.
I fucking hate that he treats me like a child in front of Milo.
“Are you serious? Do you honestly think changing clothes will increase my chances of keeping them on the whole night?”