Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Aurelia is practically bouncing in her seat by the time I shut off the engine.
She reaches for the door, and I stop her. I can feel her confusion when I step out and her gaze following me as I round the hood and open her door.
“Come on, baby.” I hold out my hand, and she blushes as I help her down. Thorin insisted on having the truck lifted when we bought it a few years back, so it’s a long way down.
Once she’s out, I lock the truck, and she grabs my hand and pulls me onto the sidewalk. Aurelia starts walking with no clear destination in mind, and I let her guide us while I scope out the faces of the people we pass, watching for anyone who stares in her direction too long.
Aurelia isn’t wearing her disguise like she did the first time we brought her into town.
There’s really no need for that now that the sheriff knows who she is, but it still makes me nervous. There’s always a chance someone will recognize her and blow our spot up.
Aurelia is still talking excitedly about where to go first when we pass the ice cream parlor. I squeeze her hand, but she doesn’t notice because she’s too busy contemplating which store to go to first, so I stop walking, but I don’t let her go, and it finally gets her attention when she’s met with resistance.
“I—What?”
“What about here?” I suggest with a nod to the shop.
She turns and reads the pale blue and pink lettering on the window. “Ice cream? As in…sugar? But you hate junk food. Something to do with your deeply unhappy childhood.”
“I didn’t have a deeply unhappy childhood.”
Aurelia’s brows snap down. “Then there’s no excuse for torturing yourself like this, Khalil Poverly.”
Grinning, I pull her back toward the door, and she eagerly follows. “Prepare yourself, Goldilocks. You won’t believe the flavors they have.”
The store is cold when we walk in, but Aurelia doesn’t seem to notice as she looks around in awe. You’d think she’d stepped through a portal into another world. She doesn’t notice either when I let her hand fall from mine and come to a standstill as I fight off the guilt that suddenly hits me like a train. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it takes a little longer this time to overcome.
Sam and Molly, the couple that owns this joint, hadn’t changed a thing since I’d last been inside. The ceiling is still cracked. The paint is still peeling. The floor is still its usual dingy black-and-white tile, and the catchy pop music plays over a crackly speaker. And the velvet barrel-backed chairs are still tearing at the seams and in danger of losing all of their foam.
Through Aurelia’s eyes, it is a wonderland.
There are a few people inside sitting at the tables or standing along the walls, but thankfully most of them pay us no mind as they enjoy their sundaes and milkshakes.
However, the mood toward us has shifted—if only a little. A few years ago, the townspeople gawked whenever Thorin, Zeke, and I would come into town since we were a rare sight with an even more mysterious history. Left with no choice but to fill in those blanks themselves, we became some cheap urban legend. Over time those stares became less frequent and lengthy, but there were still some.
They whisper when I pass, and for the first time, I don’t grit my teeth or glare them into looking away. I take in all their stares and curious whispers because it means they aren’t giving her a second glance. My presence is the perfect disguise.
I’d managed to move and force an indulgent smile by the time Aurelia realized I wasn’t responding to her many questions and comments. She was standing in front of the specials board contemplating her many choices when her head popped up and she looked around in search of me.
Smoothly, I reappeared by her side and reclaimed her hand. “I’m right here, baby. What was that?”
“Oh. I said I don’t know which flavor to get. They all sound so good and gross at the same time.” She wrinkled her nose. “How is that possible?”
I smirked at her. “Why don’t we get them all so you can try them?”
“Really?”
The teenage cashier with a large septum piercing and more freckles than not wore a bored expression when we stepped up to the counter, and she barely suppressed an eye roll when Aurelia and I ordered all nine of the specials. Sam and Molly had dozens of flavors that were constantly changing, but Aurelia and I were determined to make a sizable dent in their menu.
The shop was busy today since it was a warm, sunny day and a Friday. I even spotted a few kids who had clearly decided to skip school. The cashier handed one of the servers our ticket, and he hurried away to get started on our big order.