Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I relax at his words. I’m a terrible aunt, I know, but at least Kaden is learning that I’m at least trying to be a good one.
Lucy does return and is once again smiling. I let the siblings do all the talking in an attempt to keep from screwing up again. Questions pile up in my mind, but I refrain from asking every single one of them. Thankfully, once our food has been delivered much later, Kaden asks her what I want to know.
“Have you talked to Trevor?”
Lucy scowls as if her older brother is standing right in front of her. “No, but I’m surprised you haven’t.” She glances my way, but then the anger quickly turns to guilt. “I’m sorry. He’s just too much like Lenny for his own good.”
That makes my hackles rise.
Lenny is a piece of shit.
“Is he using?” Kaden asks, voice soft. “Is that why he’s been being a dick?”
“I’m guessing so.” Lucy frowns as she absently scrapes a glob of ketchup off the countertop with her thumbnail. “I was tired of them all. Grandma may not be perfect, but at least it’s peaceful at her house.”
Peaceful?
Growing up, my house was far from peaceful. Dad was a cruel drunk. Mom drank to put up with him. Together, mixed with their on-again, off-again long-time lover, Jim Beam, they’d nearly bring the house down with their fights.
Nothing was peaceful.
Dad still lived at home with Mom when I got out of there at eighteen. It was constant chaos even then. He eventually went to jail and his violent tendencies landed him a long, cushy sentence in a penitentiary upstate. He’s been serving time ever since and won’t be up for parole for another few years.
Is Mom happy now or does she miss the forever drama?
As curious as I am to know those answers, it’s not the most important thing at the moment. Right now, I’m more worried about Trevor.
“Should I visit Trevor?” I ask, hating that I’m back to cop mode. “If he’s using or even dealing, he’s setting himself up for trouble.”
“You would do that?” Lucy asks, hope brimming in her eyes. “I mean, he would hate me for wanting you to check on him, but I’m worried about him.”
She’s not pissed?
I glance at Kaden, who wears a matching expression. For once, I don’t have to be the bad cop. Maybe I can be the good one plus a good aunt too.
“Of course,” I promise. “Do you have any idea where he’s been staying or who his friends are?”
“He’s been hanging with some uppity kids. A couple of them work at Park Mountain Lodge. They party nonstop but spend time ‘working’ at the lodge when they need money.” Lucy sighs when a customer walks in. “Dinner rush is about to hit. Thank you, Aunt Sloane.”
“For what?”
“For caring.”
That’s something I’ll never stop doing with these kids. I will keep caring about them even when they don’t want me to. I have a feeling Trevor definitely doesn’t want me to.
Tough luck for him.
Dempsey
“Coffee?” I grumble for the fifteenth time as I lace up my combat boots. “You woke me up for coffee? Isn’t that like an oxymoron or something?”
Gemma smooths out her long dark hair before wriggling her pointy cat claws at me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t sleep through English and actually know what an oxymoron is.”
Ignoring her, I make a pass through the bathroom to fix my hair and brush my teeth. She stands sentry by my door with her giant Louis Vuitton handbag that matches her fingernails so precisely it’s scary. Knowing my sister, she probably did that on purpose to show her followers how stylish she is. That influencer shit she does seems exhausting.
“I’m driving,” I tell her as I snag my chain wallet and hook it to my belt. “If I’m being forced out of bed to get coffee with you, then I at least get to drive the damn car.”
Gemma, with her model-runway face already made up with lash extensions and whatever else bullshit makeup that probably took her three hours to apply, glowers at me. With a frustrated huff, she lobs the keys at me, nearly taking out my fucking eye.
“Mean,” I say with a grin. “Always so mean.”
She softens and shrugs. “You bring out the best in me. What can I say?”
The thing with Gemma and me is that no matter how different we are or how much I resent her place in our family over mine, we always will be friends. She’s been my go-to person since before we could speak. If there was trouble to get into, we did it together. When we became teenagers, that all changed because Dad watches her like a hawk, but we still manage to maintain that friendship okay.
Mom is cleaning all the old silver at the dining room table when we make our way downstairs. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup. She’s also wearing her messy housecleaning clothes. We have a house cleaner, but she likes to clean it first so it isn’t so dirty for the maid. Again, I think that’s an oxymoron, but according to Gemma, I may have that confused because she’s right, I did sleep in English.