Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Oh, Hannah,” Lovie responds. She inhales a sharp breath through her nose and lets it back out in the form of a sympathetic sigh.
I nod. I know. It’s a lot. “Today was a particularly rough day,” I admit. “And you don’t even know, but last week, when you left to meet Norm for dinner, the detectives showed up here and Mom let them in while I was in the shower.”
“Oh my gosh, honey. That’s why you added the smart doorbell and new security camera outside, huh?”
“Yeah.” I purse my lips. “That’s definitely part of it. She thought they were detectives from the show. Invited them up for coffee and everything, while I was oblivious in the shower. I came out in my towel and bam. There they were, carrying on a conversation with my mom while she called them Tony and Gibbs.” I eye her with a knowing look. “Wasn’t exactly a fun experience for me.”
“Well . . .” Lovie lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she does. “That definitely makes sense with the way she’s been talking lately. Everything is about Tony and Gibbs, and some case Ziva is trying to help them solve.”
A long moment of silence passes between us, and I waver back and forth on my next words, but eventually I ask her what I really want to. I ask her the one question that I know, deep down, compelled me to tell her all this in the first place.
“Lovie, do you . . . do you think I’m doing the right things?” I lift my eyes to meet hers. “I just . . . I can’t help but feel like I’m failing at every turn.”
“You’re not failing, Hannah. You’re not failing at all.” Immediately, she rounds the corner to pull me into a hug, but my mom surprises me instead, her hand landing on my shoulder.
“You’re doing all the right things, Ziva. You’re helping people. And together, you and Gibbs and Tony are going to solve this case.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Thanks, Sherry.”
My thoughts are scattered, but a conclusion still finds its way to the surface, however sardonic.
If my mom only knew the truth. She’d think all this was the freaking greatest.
I just wish I could figure out how to feel the same.
16
Dominic
9:00 p.m.
Sweat drips from my cold bottle of Miller Lite as I tip it to my lips, stepping to the side as Shane purposefully nudges up to the table Wilkins managed to snag near the bar, despite the overwhelming crowd inside Honky Tonk Parade. James and Crew were supposed to be meeting us here, but James is running late and Crew backed out because Jane wasn’t feeling well. Apparently, her pregnancy has her puking day and night. Add in their wild toddler, Haven, and I’m sure having Crew at home after work is much needed.
As a result, I’m stuck with a bunch of off-duty cops and the same guy I spend all my time with these days. I can’t help but ride him about it.
“You might as well just move in at this point, we spend so much fucking time together.”
Shane scoffs. “Oh yeah. Then I could braid your hair and pack your lunch for you, and maybe you’d be on time.”
“I just want to know,” Wilkins chimes in, a big smile on his face. “When you two get married, who is the bride and who is the groom?”
“I think it’s pretty clear,” I retort on a snort. “I mean, c’mon, Wilkins.” I wave a hand around my face. “Clearly, I’m the beauty.”
“Hey, now,” Shane refutes. “My mom says I have the face of an angel, and Connie Maddox ain’t no liar. She’s too sweet for that. Plus, I’m disappointed in you, Dom. To think you’d want to box us in like that. I don’t see anything wrong with us both playing bride.”
“You’re right, man,” I agree, patting him on the shoulder. “My bad for being such a closed-minded dick.”
Wilkins just stares at us, his eyes moving back and forth between Shane and me. He’s been a cop for six years but has only been working homicide with us for the past six months. Surely he’s still adjusting to our banter. “You know,” he eventually comments, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “I can’t decide if you guys are hilarious or completely fucked in the head.”
Shane just shrugs and moves his attention to Roddy Kutch. “What do you think, newbs? Are Dom and I fucked in the head or hilarious?”
Roddy’s only been with Metro for eight months, a newborn cop with a clean-shaven baby face to prove it. He’s still quiet and polite and hasn’t been on the force long enough to spout sarcastic bullshit like us.
“Oh no.” Roddy shakes his head. “I’m not dumb enough to take sides here.”
Both Shane and Wilkins laugh, and I grin around the mouth of my bottle and take another swig, scanning the bar. As usual, it’s packed to the gills—twentysomethings, college kids, tourists, and bachelors and bachelorettes gathering in a mixing pot of sweat, booze, and country music. It doesn’t matter that it’s Thursday night: Everyone came to party, no matter if they have to wake up for work or class tomorrow.