Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Oh, my God. “What are you doing here?” I cried.
She clamped a hand over my mouth, quieting me as she shook with a laugh. “Missed you, too, little stick,” she whispered.
My body shook with a quiet laugh, and I squeezed her so tight she grunted.
Will
Nine Years Ago
She stopped and looked around as I took the key from her and unlocked her back door.
It was after one in the morning, and I hurriedly twisted the handle and pulled her in from the rain.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “The coast is clear. He’s still at work.”
I closed the door, locked it, and knelt down, slipping her heels off her feet. Taking her hand, I pulled her toward the stairs.
“We really need to stand up to him sometime.”
She leaned her head on my arm, yawning. “He’s scary,” she said.
I shook my head, sweeping her into my arms and carrying her up the stairs. “He’s a joke.” I hugged her close as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m your man now. He’ll have to get through me.”
She just let out a single chuckle into the crook of my neck, but didn’t say more.
I wasn’t trying to be funny.
“Paige?” someone called.
I froze, the weight of my footsteps halting the creaking on the floorboards.
Emmy popped her head up and shifted out of my arms, hurrying into her grandmother’s room.
“Yes, Grand-Mère.”
I hung back, not wanting Em to have to face questions about why she was with me so late.
“Where is your father?” her grandma asked.
I heard Em walk around the room, pour some water, and shuffle blankets.
Her father?
But Emmy answered, not missing a beat. “He had to go back to the flower shop. He got you yellow flowers, and he knows better.”
“Red flowers.” Her grandmother’s raspy voice held a hint of humor. “How could he forget?”
“Go to sleep,” Em cooed. “When you wake up, they’ll be here.”
Emory walked back into the hallway, yawning again as she pulled the door closed, only leaving it open a crack.
“Love you, sweetie,” her grandmother called.
“Love you, too.”
She gazed up at me in the dark hallway and took my hand, lying her head on my chest. She was fucking exhausted.
I led her to her room.
“Your father?” I inquired.
Adam Scott died with her mother years ago. Caught in their car when the river flooded during Hurricane Frederic that hit us head on about five years ago.
But Emmy clarified, “My grandfather. Her husband. She thinks I’m my mother sometimes.”
I nodded once, not really knowing what to say to that. It was a lot for a high schooler to deal with. In this moment, I was grateful she spared me any time, considering the bigger things she had on her plate. I was too hard on her.
We entered her room, and I turned on the lights.
But she protested, “No, leave them off.” She made her way for her bed. “I’m so tired.”
She crashed down, not even bothering to undress, and I flipped the switch off again, the room going dark.
“But I don’t want to sleep, either,” she said, yawning again. “Because when the night’s over, it ends. No more fun.”
I walked over, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “Nothing is ending.” I pulled at her comforter and then the blankets, working them out from underneath her to cover her up. “It wasn’t just fun to me, Emmy. Don’t you know that?”
I stared down at her as she turned on her side, and I covered her up.
We weren’t done. I needed more.
“You still don’t trust me?” I asked.
She remained still and quiet, refusing to look at me. Was she asleep already?
But then I heard her speak. “Part of me wishes I could have you,” she said. “Part of me wishes you were my man, but…”
I heard her swallow, and then she sighed.
“Everything will be real tomorrow,” she told me.
As if that explained everything.
Walking over to her window, I closed her drapes.
“Someday you’ll be big and powerful,” she continued.
I turned to see her sitting up in bed and punching the pillows behind her, trying to get them to the right fluffiness.
“Like I am now?” I teased.
“And stunning in a three-piece suit with fabulous hair,” she went on, thinking out loud like I wasn’t even here.
“I look better wet.”
“And everyone will love you.” She plopped back onto her pillows, lying on her back.
“They already do.”
“And you’ll be the life of the party.”
I walked over, straightening her blankets and biting back my smile. “Mm-hmm.”
“With little magazine-cover looking children.”
“My sperm will be the stuff of legends,” I joked.
“And married…”
“Several times, I’m sure.”
“And to all blondes.”
My body shook with a laugh as I leaned over her, smelling her and me on her skin and dying to crawl into this bed with her.
But she was done for the night.
“And the only time you’ll notice I’m alive,” she went on, “is when you sign the checks, paying my dog-walking service for taking care of your labradoodles every week.”