Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“I saw something. Something was… moving,” Zach said. His eyes were wide, his lips curled up in a grimace.
“Okay,” I said. “Black widow? Brown recluse?”
“Bigger than that,” Zach said. “And not a spider. It was… fuzzy.”
“Zach,” I said. “Are you freaking out because you saw a mouse?” I looked around at the hardwood floors. There were definitely a few places where the gaps were a little pronounced, and spots in the baseboard where a small mouse could scurry through.
Zach looked at me blankly.
I nodded, letting out a long breath I’d apparently been holding. “Sometimes that happens in these old houses,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. We can get some traps at the hardware store later.”
“Then I have to have a dead mouse in my room?” Zach said.
“They have traps that won’t kill them, just capture them,” I said. “You’ve really never seen a mouse?”
Zach shrugged one shoulder. “Our house in Chicago was nice,” he said.
Christ, he couldn’t know what a spike that was to my heart.
I wanted him to think this house was nice, so fucking badly. And I constantly worried that he was going to miss when we all lived together.
Marrying Jess when we were both barely eighteen had been a mistake. Her surprise pregnancy had all but forced us into it, and once Zach was born, he’d become my entire life, my entire reason for being.
I’d never had a dad, growing up. My own father had left my mom before I’d even been born. And there was no chance in hell I was going to let Zach grow up without a family like I had. But of course I couldn’t tell Zach my reasons for marrying his mom. I’d die before I let him think any of it had been his fault. I didn’t regret him being in my life for even a second, and the only fault was my own.
“Well, this house is nice, too. Just needs some elbow grease and you won’t believe it. Now put on some jeans.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “Mr. Bailey wouldn’t care if I was in my Iron Man pajamas. He should be honored to see these bad boys.”
I grinned. “Ev probably would love Iron Man PJs,” I said. “But jeans, please.”
“I think I’m going to take a shower,” Zach said, running a hand through his hair.
“Good idea,” I said.
I heard a knock at the front door twenty minutes later. “He’s here,” I said. Zach was in the kitchen chugging a Gatorade, and he hadn’t made any moves to get in the shower yet.
“Why are you all… nervous?” Zach asked, tossing the empty bottle in the recycle.
“I’m not,” I said.
“Okay then,” he retorted, dripping with sarcasm.
I furrowed my brow, glaring at him. “Go shower. Remember the water takes a solid two minutes to heat up. Don’t freeze yourself.”
He headed off to the shower. I padded through the living room, floorboards creaking under my feet.
When I opened the front door I expected to see Evan’s face, but instead, I saw a pair of hands unsteadily holding some colossal potted plant.
“Mitch?” Evan’s voice came from behind the plant. He sounded strained. “This is so fucking heavy, Frankie didn’t warn me—it’s cold as shit out here, too—”
I reached forward just as the plant started to teeter in Evan’s hands and I grasped the bottom of the pot.
“I got it,” I said, hoisting it up and setting the massive thing down in the center of my living room.
Evan was looking at me, catching his breath, his cheeks rosy from the cold. Adorable, honestly. Something about it made me want to hold him close and warm him up.
“Are you getting your hair cut differently nowadays?” I asked.
“Oh. A little, yeah,” he said, idly running his hand through it.
The sides were a little shorter than the top, and his sandy hair fell over his forehead. It used to always be a fluffy mess, but it looked put-together now. He still had the same always-tired look to his eyes that had always calmed me down when I looked at him back in the day.
People always talked about “bedroom eyes” as some sexy thing, but I’d always felt like Evan had constant bedroom eyes.
“You brought a plant,” I said. “It looks good in here.”
“I brought a plant,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at it. It seemed insanely massive in the center of the living room. “Let’s just say I showed up at Copper General and asked what a good housewarming gift would be, and Frankie didn’t let me say no to this.”
“Frankie McLeary is still working at Copper General?”
Evan nodded, a slow smile spreading over his lips. “Not only is he still working there, he owns the place now.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“I shit you not.”
Frankie had been on the football team with me. He’d been one of those guys that was either an idiot or a genius, and you could never quite tell which. He would ask you how to peel a banana because he didn’t know, but then he’d show up at school the next day with a mini racecar that he had built from scratch.