Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I wanted to visit with everyone. I need the distraction, now more than ever, but the mere thought of laughing and celebrating with everyone has me as nauseated as the morning sickness used to. That’s the thing about grief and the million other emotions flickering through me, though, right? It messes with my mind in a single blink. It can be a memory or a feeling or a sight. A song, a single word, or even a damn snack. Everything is fine, sometimes better than fine…until it isn’t.
Until guilt dirties it, or anger buries it, or fear wraps its vicious claws around and chokes it.
Get a grip, Payton. Everything is fine. You’re fine.
A few more days.
I just have to fake it, stay busy, and then the day will pass, taking the rope around my lungs with it. They’ll go back to college, and I’ll find all that progress I made but seem to have misplaced.
I can do this.
Besides, not much can happen in a week, right?
If my memory were a person, she would laugh in my face.
If anyone knows how bullshit such a thought can be, it’s me.
“What a royal dick move that would be.” Mia grins.
“What dick move are we talking about?”
We squeal, surprised by the intruding voice, and look up as Mia’s ex walks over, but that’s not what has me swallowing. It’s the person who trails right behind him, an easy, not completely genuine grin in place. Still, it adds to his undeniable appeal.
Mason is effortlessly attractive with messy, dark brown hair he keeps trimmed short, and he chooses this exact moment to run a hand through it, accentuating the tapered muscles of his torso that are in no way hidden by the shirt he’s wearing, if you can even call it a shirt anymore. He has the arms completely cut off, the sides slit down to the waist, where his palm tree–covered board shorts lie low against his hips.
He is the perfect specimen with the mind and heart to match.
I look away.
“Your face, Austin. Forcing us to stare at it is a dick move,” Lolli teases, and I know she’s feeling a little buzz. She turns to Mason. “Where’re your people?”
He sidesteps her, walking around the blanket until he’s right beside me, and I fight the urge not to swallow.
“My sister and Cameron should be here any time.” He makes a goofy face, reaching down and snagging Deaton from the saucer chair he was sitting in. He chuckles when Deaton blows little bubbles through his lips, and I can’t help the smile that forms on mine. “But Chase and Brady won’t be back until late tonight.”
At that, I reach for my phone with a slight frown. “Are you sure, because Chase texted me and said he’d be here for lunch.”
Mason freezes, Deaton halfway to his chest, his eyes snapping over to lock on mine. “Chase texts you?”
I don’t know why, but my cheeks flame. Before I can respond, Mia starts talking, but I tune her out and stand, grabbing the baby seat and dusting off the Lamb Chop toy Deaton dropped onto the sandy blanket the second Mason smiled at him.
I turn to Mason again, an excuse of Deaton needing a change on the tip of my tongue, but Mason has already spun on his heels, headed for the water’s edge. He drops onto his butt right there, shifting my son so he’s standing between his bent legs, his little feet pressed into the wet sand.
Deaton’s face is in my line of sight, and when he smiles wide, shoving his hands in his mouth because he’s so excited he doesn’t know what else to do, a low laugh leaves me. I suck in a deep breath, set the things back in the sand, and move to join them, because how could I not?
Nerves fire off in my stomach, but I count through it, doing all I can to keep myself from running with my tail between my legs.
Mason doesn’t look up as I lower beside the pair, but when Deaton turns his smile on me, stomping his feet and sending little speckles of wet sand all around, he laughs and glances my way.
Our eyes meet, but he swiftly averts his gaze.
After a moment, he asks, “Think he’ll be too cold if his feet touch the water?”
That’s right. He hasn’t gotten to see him enjoy the water yet this summer.
I shake my head. “No, he loves the water, even as chilly as it is.”
“Yeah?” Mason grins but keeps his attention on Deaton as he spins him so he’s facing the ocean. Mason shifts, walking on his knees the three feet forward to where the waves die out against the sand. “Okay, little man, here it comes.”
I bite back a smile at the uncertainty in his tone. When Deaton jolts, his eyes bugging wide as a small, surprised whine escapes, Mason panics, tugging him straight into his chest and looking to me in, well, panic.