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)
Jesse huffed and gave me the directions, but thankfully stopped telling me about all the information Curtis had imparted while they were gone for twenty minutes getting coffee. I was glad that they got along because that was going to make the next few months a lot easier, but I didn’t want them getting attached. I had no idea what the future would bring, but I did know that this relationship I was faking with Curtis wouldn’t last forever. At some point, we were going to part ways, and I knew that once we did, leaning on the club wouldn’t be an option for me or my kids anymore.
Finn started talking when we reached the first thrift store and basically didn’t stop. Normally, I would’ve been worn out by the second store, but I was actually thankful for his running commentary because it kept my mind from wandering to the kiss Curtis had given me that morning, wondering about what was happening back at the rental, and how the hell we were supposed to maintain our little farce for more than a few days.
Jesse and Curtis’s conversation made me nervous. By the way they’d been talking, Jess was already starting to settle into the situation. That should’ve comforted me—I wanted them to settle—but instead it made anxiety pool in my gut.
My kids were going to get used to this. They were going to get used to Curtis and Dylan and their massive support system. Hell, they’d already started acting like the whole situation was normal, and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. Where would they be when that was gone, and it was just us again?
I’d lived through that. My pop had so many friends when I was a kid—people checking in all the time, stopping by, old ladies bringing us food—but somewhere along the way those visits had grown fewer and farther between until they’d stopped altogether. I’d never understood why, and my pop never explained.
I didn’t want Jesse and Finn to go through that disconnect, but now we were too far in for second thoughts. Curtis’s brother was stopping by to help us unload our truck, and his sister-in-law was offering to furnish our house. It was all too much, too fast, and I had no idea how to slow things down.
After a few hours of thrifting, all we had to show for it was an old T-shirt that Finn had begged for and a funky little nightstand for Jesse’s room. It was pretty much a bust, and I wasn’t sure if we were checking the right stores. We didn’t need antique furniture. We just needed secondhand furniture, but we’d barely found any. Grocery shopping took another hour and a half because I had to stock up on nearly everything, especially now that the kids would be home for the summer and not eating breakfast and lunch at school. I wasn’t sure what Dylan liked, but I figured he couldn’t be that different from Jesse. Teenagers were like raccoons in my experience—they ate anything.
I didn’t touch the cash in my back pocket, and it was still there when I parked in the driveway next to a Harley Fat Boy that was older than I was and still in pristine condition. Dylan’s truck was gone, and so was the truck that had been parked at the curb when we’d left. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Finn, grab a couple of bags,” I ordered as I swung open my door. “Don’t go in empty-handed.”
“There’s a motorcycle!” he said excitedly.
“Groceries,” I reminded him.
“I’ll get my nightstand,” Jesse announced.
I grabbed as many bags as I could carry from the back seat and followed Finn to the front door, hoping that Curtis was inside because I didn’t have a key. When the door opened, I added asking for one to my mental checklist.
“Hey, baby,” Curtis greeted, making me roll my eyes. “Are there more groceries?”
“Backseat,” I replied as I passed him.
“Cool.”
I carried the bags into the kitchen and came to an abrupt stop when I noticed the older man seated at the table. He was wearing jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a tattered but well-loved leather cut with patches on the breast. He got to his feet as I set the grocery bags on the counter, his salt-and-pepper bearded chin tipping my way.
“You look like your mother,” he said, his lips tipping up at the corners.
I recognized that gravelly voice.
“Grease?”
“How you doin’, Theodora?” he asked gently, his smile widening.
“Jesus, you got old.”
He threw his head back as he laughed, the sound coming from deep in his belly. He was still grinning when he stopped.
“You’re still as bratty as you ever were.”
“Guilty,” I confessed.
It was weird, seeing him after all these years. I hadn’t thought about him in so long, not until he’d reached out, but all of a sudden it felt like no time had passed at all. Like, I’d just seen him sitting outside our trailer, shooting the shit with my pop, each of them holding a bottle of bourbon.