Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
If only they were about ten years older, things would’ve been a lot simpler.
“It’s kind of weird,” I noted, mostly just for something to talk about. “How bare everything is. We’ve always rented furnished apartments, so we at least had something to sleep on.”
“Yeah, my Aunt Charlie and Uncle Bishop brought this over last night,” Dylan said, knocking on the kitchen table. “It was my Aunt Rose’s, but they bought something new, so they gave it to us.”
“Nice.”
“We sold pretty much everything except our beds and my dad’s recliner when we moved,” he continued. “It was all shit anyway. He said we’d just get new stuff here instead of having to move it all.”
“Makes sense,” I replied, leaning against the counter. “That’s pretty much what we did. I don’t enjoy moving things I can’t lift myself, so furnished places worked great.”
“You lived in California?” Isla asked. “I love California. We’ve been to Disneyland like four times!”
I smiled and nodded. “Happiest place on earth, right?”
“It really is,” she said with a sigh.
Sacramento wasn’t anywhere near Disneyland, and my kids had never been to the theme park. I’d gone with my parents and brothers when I was little, but as an adult, I’d never had the money for that kind of trip, and I also hadn’t wanted to be so far from my pop when he was sick.
“So you and my dad, huh?” Dylan said, his eyes steady on mine. “How did that happen?”
For a moment, I froze. The words had been calm and nonchalant, but the look on his face wasn’t. I had no idea how much Curtis had told his son, but it clearly wasn’t enough for Dylan’s liking, and he was hoping that I’d slip up and give him something more. He looked like a man, but I reminded myself he wasn’t. He was just a kid, and the fact that he was asking me, a practical stranger, while his dad wasn’t home, reminded me of how young Dylan really was.
“We met years ago,” I said, fighting the urge to fidget. Lies were best told when you believed they were true and gave the impression that you didn’t care if the other person believed you or not. “And then we started talking a few months ago.”
“Crazy,” he replied, nodding a little like he didn’t trust a word I was saying. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
“I didn’t tell Jess and Finn either,” I replied, holding his gaze. “Sometimes, you just want to make sure something’s right before you tell everyone about it, you know?”
Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but someone pounding on the front door made it snap shut again.
He immediately moved that way as my heart pounded in my ears.
“Dylan, wait,” I choked out, following him.
It couldn’t be David. As far as I knew, he wouldn’t be back in Sacramento for three more days. Even if someone had seen me leave, he wouldn’t have found me that quickly, and I doubted he would’ve cut his trip east short just to come back and fuck with me. That wasn’t his style. David never rushed anything. He thought and planned before striking.
I thought all that while I followed Dylan to the front door, and I was stunned when he didn’t even pause before he unlocked and swung it open.
Outside was a barrel-chested man with a salt-and-pepper beard, wearing a baseball cap and a T-shirt. Next to him was a small woman who looked just like Isla.
Before anyone could say a word, the man shoved his way inside, his gaze moving through the room until he found Isla in the entry to the kitchen.
“Mr. Williams,” Dylan said quickly, stepping into his path. “We—”
“Get out of my way,” the man, who was clearly Isla’s dad, growled.
Immediately, Dylan seemed to grow bigger. His shoulders straightened. “You can’t just push your way in here,” he said, his tone shifting from placating to anger.
“Isla, get your shit,” her dad barked. “Now.”
Isla stood frozen in place.
“Mr. Williams,” Dylan said again, trying to drag the man’s attention back to himself. “Step back. Isla can call you when—”
By the shift in the man’s expression, I knew instantly what was about to happen.
So did Isla’s mom. “Greg,” she called nervously, taking a step forward.
I’d been silent to that point, standing a little behind Dylan. It wasn’t really my place to interfere, and I had no idea what Curtis would want me to do, but I also hadn’t realized that the situation would deteriorate so fucking fast.
Inwardly cursing, I stepped to the side and shoved Dylan as Greg Williams swung. Dylan stumbled because he hadn’t been expecting it, which left me on the receiving end of the massive fist. Since I was shorter than the target he’d been aiming for, the punch skimmed the top of my head, but it was enough contact that I staggered backward. Luckily, I’d had my bell rung before, so I was able to stay on my feet, and I knew better than to let the guy swing again. I grabbed his arm and yanked him toward me, kneeing him in the balls as hard as I could. I let go quickly, swaying as he dropped like a log to the floor, letting out a high-pitched wheeze.