Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
I imagine his guilt is because he’s all but kicking me out when I thought we were spending the rest of the day together, but then he says reluctantly, “I need you to leave the outfit here.”
I suck in a breath, looking down and realizing I’m still wearing his wife’s old clothes.
“Of course.”
He glances at the bags, then says, “You probably need your pajamas back, too. I’ll go get them.”
He doesn’t even want me to come upstairs.
Wow, I hate this a lot.
But I nod, faking as much of a smile as I’m able as he turns and heads up the stairs.
This is so much bullshit, I want to kick him in the balls.
Tamping down my irrational hurt and anger, I grab my phone out of my purse to see if I’ve heard from Mom again. I didn’t tell him she was working today. I have no idea if she’s home, and if she is, I need to find something else to do for a while.
Jonathan’s voice startles me, stealing my attention. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Jet as excited as he is when you’re around.”
I regard him carefully.
“This whole thing seemed a little weird to me, to be honest. You’re far from some hot, unattainable cheerleader, but you have a certain kind of coolness about you. You’re out of his league. Why would you bother with someone like him? Maybe now I’m getting it. Maybe he was never the one you wanted to be around.”
I swallow. “Jet and I aren’t—it’s not what you’re thinking. He likes someone else.”
A smirk tugs at his lips and he shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does. Her name is Brylee White. She only likes guys who are taken, so we decided to make it look like we were dating so she would notice him.”
Jonathan nods, but it’s condescending as hell. “What a nice story.”
“It’s the truth,” I say, growing mildly annoyed. “I get that you want to protect your little brother, but I’m not lying. You can ask him yourself.”
Jonathan shakes his head, a little smirk playing around his lips. “Are you a fucking idiot, Kennedy? I mean, I knew you weren’t as smart as Jet, but I didn’t think you were an idiot.”
I stare at him, my jaw inching open. “Excuse me?”
“He likes you.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does, and if you think I’m gonna let you bust up his heart because you’re trying to get with our dad, you are very much mistaken.”
My heart flutters as he takes a step toward me. For some reason, I find myself taking a step back. He takes another step forward and I retreat another step, but as I do, I stumble over a shopping bag. My heart leaps as I start to fall, but Jonathan Granville’s hands shoot out. He grabs my waist, stopping me from falling.
My heart hammers because once I’m steady on my feet, he doesn’t let go.
I’m wildly uncomfortable and a little afraid, but I don’t get why. There’s no reason to be afraid of Jonathan Granville.
At least, that’s what I think until his gaze drops and he looks me over.
“Get your hands off me,” I say, flushing and pushing his hands away so I can back away from him.
“Keep your hands on the right Granville,” he warns me, meeting my gaze. “If you fuck around and hurt Jet, you won’t have a shot in hell with my dad. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
I swallow. He doesn’t detail exactly how, but he doesn’t have to. I believe him.
Before another word can be said, Milo comes back downstairs with my pajamas. I’m less mad about leaving now. I don’t want to be here with Jonathan.
Without a word, I grab my pajamas and slip into the guest bathroom to change out of Edie’s clothes.
When I emerge, I’m hoping Jonathan will have left the room so I can at least say goodbye to Milo in peace, but I should have known better. Jonathan is standing right beside his father, arms crossed—an angrier, younger carbon copy.
“Thanks for the headphones,” I mutter to Milo.
But I don’t wait for his response before I slip out the front door.
Chapter twelve
Kennedy
My stupid locker is jammed.
I jiggle the million year old latch and pull on the handle, trying to get the damn thing open, but it won’t budge.
“Come on,” I mutter, jiggling it more aggressively before slamming my palm against the door, not so much to open it as to vent my annoyance.
“Want me to give it a try?”
I gasp, turning around and slamming into the locker as Jet startles the hell out of me. “Jesus. Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
He cracks a smile, hoisting his bag on his shoulder. “Sorry.” He nods at the locker. “May I?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I murmur, taking a step back and tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’ve beaten the shit out of it, though. The stupid thing won’t open.”