Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I jolt back in my seat, wishing a hole would open in the pretty polished floor to swallow me up. How freaking mortifying.
“Knock it off,” Orion growls, while I focus on my own plate.
“Seriously,” Stella crows, “are you two going to be able to live together?”
“What?” Maverick asks, scrunching his little nose. “Live together?”
I rush to explain. “Orion is Stella’s brother, and he’s going to be staying here for a little while.”
“Like a sleepover?” He bounces in his chair in glee.
“Sure.” Orion grins. “Like a sleepover.”
“Can we build a pillow fort? And tell scary stories? Can we stay up all night? Can we—”
“Slow down, Mav. I’m sure—”
“Of course, we can,” Orion murmurs over my attempt to placate him. “In fact, tonight, we can even camp in the living room.”
Maverick smiles brighter than I’ve ever seen. “This is the best day ever!”
I wish I could share my son’s enthusiasm, but my heart feels like it’s made of glass in my chest—thin and brittle, ready to shatter.
Because that’s what men like him do. They break hearts, and something tells me he’s undoubtedly going to break mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ORION
There’s something so damn familiar about Frankie, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.
Every interaction with her leaves me with this odd sense of déjà vu, like some part of me knows some part of her. It’s dumb, but I can’t entirely shake the notion either.
Maverick, though—that kid is something else. He’s the only kid I’ve ever willingly spent time with, much less liked.
Typically, the thought of spending time with vertically-challenged booger pickers isn’t appealing. I don’t know what it is about him, but he’s just…a cool kid.
Which is why I’m at the fucking store buying stuff so we can camp out in the living room tonight while his mom’s at work, instead of relaxing on my day off.
I go to check my list one more time before heading to the front of the store to checkout, but my phone rings before I get the chance.
It’s Ben.
Things between us are still a little tense, but improving each day. Mostly because I’m putting a lot of effort into not holding a grudge.
“What’s up, man?” I say once the call connects.
“Just making sure we’re still on for Monday.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“Okay, good.” He exhales loudly into the phone. “Are we good, Orion? You know you’re like a brother to me, right?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to—once again—tell him he has a funny way of showing it, but I swallow down the urge. “Yeah, we’re good.”
“Okay. Well. Why don’t we meet for lunch Monday instead of at the office?”
“Sounds good,” I reply distractedly, as uninvited thoughts of my new roommates creep to the forefront of my mind.
My phone beeps in my ear, and I pull it away from my face to check the screen. “Hey, Stella’s calling me—see you Monday?”
“Sure—” Ben starts to say something else, but I’ve already swapped calls.
“Where are you?” my impatient little sister asks.
“The store,” I drawl, “like I said before I left.”
“Which store?”
I smirk; she’s using what I call her teacher voice. “Target, why?”
“Oh, good—wait, why are you at Target? You hate Target.”
“Um.” I pause in the aisle and rub at the back of my neck.
“Oh my God!”
“What?”
“You’re actually going to do it, aren’t you?”
I start pushing my cart again, wandering aimlessly while Stella talks in circles. “Do what?”
“Camp with Maverick.”
“So?” I cringe at the defensiveness in my voice, something I know Stella will latch onto.
“So…” she draws out the word. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all.”
“He seemed really into the idea. It’s no big deal.”
“Au contraire, big brother. It’s a huge deal.”
“Whatever. Did you need something, or did you only call to bust my balls?”
“Ew. Don’t mention your balls to me. Ever.”
“Stella,” I growl.
“Fine, yes. I wanted to see if you could pick me up a few things.”
“Of course, you do.” I roll my eyes. “What do you need?”
“I’ll text you a list,” she says happily before ending the call.
A few seconds later, her list comes through.
Stella: SGX NYC dry shampoo (the one with the yellow label), more coffee, and some of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch creamer.
I visibly cringe at the last item on the list—because fucking gross—and then I head down the aisle toward the refrigerated section, determined to finish my shopping so I can relax at least a little today.
By the time I make it to checkout, my cart is loaded down with so much shit that it’s nearly overflowing. I definitely went overboard, but like I said, there’s something about the kid that just tugs at me. It’s like, from the moment I first saw him, something inside me decided making him smile was my new mission.
“That’ll be one-fifteen even,” the cashier says, both pulling me from my thoughts and shocking the hell out of me. I haven’t spent this much at Target ever.