Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Your grandparents are considered thieves, and maybe your father is as well. I know it doesn’t sound like it bodes well for you, but I promise you, I will not let you turn out like them.” The back of my neck gets hot, and my eyes start to sting. “I’m also going to ask you to stop making me cry so damn much. It’s starting to mess with my street cred.” I chuckle. “I’m kidding, I don’t have any street cred.”
I finish the bagel as leaves catch in the breeze. A couple of squirrels chase each other as a flock of birds flies by. I pick up my stuff and head back inside the little house I’ve come to love with all my heart, something that is finally mine and only mine. It’s a two-bedroom house I used to rent. Even renting this place, I knew I was finally seeing the light. I got it for cheap since I also did all the upkeep for the owner. When he unexpectedly passed away, I thought I would have to move. I was dreading it. His son lives out of state, so I knew he would be looking to just sell it. When he came into town for the funeral, I got the dreaded knock at the door. Except he wasn’t kicking me out. He was offering to sell the house to me. He sat with me on the couch that I got from an estate sale and laid it all out for me.
Sadly, I had to turn him down, knowing there was no way I would be able to even get a mortgage under my name. Not many twenty-seven-year-olds have declared bankruptcy twice. Once, when I was almost nineteen, and the collection calls started, I found out my parents had taken out five credit cards in my name. Then I found out I was twenty-two thousand dollars in debt, which to some doesn’t seem to be a lot, but when you’re eighteen, it feels like a million dollars. I tried my hardest to pay it off, but I just couldn’t keep up with it. My credit went to shit. Then I had to declare bankruptcy again when I found out my mother used my social to rent their apartment, the one they kicked me out of. They went a full year without paying rent before being evicted. I was responsible for the payments, unless I pressed charges on them. I didn’t. I couldn’t.
The minute I said no to buying the house, my heart sank. I don’t know what happened or why, but he must have felt sorry for me. Because he came back the next day with an offer. Instead of paying him rent to stay here, I would pay him rent to own the house. We went to a lawyer and had it drafted up. Every single month, he’d get his payment, and in ten years, the house would be mine. The only thing my parents didn’t know I owned. They would never know.
I wipe down the counter before walking back into the bedroom and opening the closet. “What does one wear when they are going to tell their one-night stand that she’s having a baby and it’s his?” I ask as I move the hangers across the rod. “Definitely not a dress.” I shake my head, looking at the two dresses I own. “Shorts, maybe?” I turn to the dresser, pulling out the drawers and grabbing a pair of dark-green linen shorts.
I slip off my pajama bottoms before sliding the shorts on and grabbing my white bra, and then a white T-shirt. I head to the bathroom as I try to cover the circles under my eyes before applying a coat of mascara. I brush my hair, leaving it down, even though once I get to work, I’m going to tie it up.
My phone rings, and I’m expecting it to be the alarm, but it’s not. It’s Finley calling. “Hello.” I put it on speakerphone and go about packing my things.
“Hello, yourself,” she huffs out, and I laugh. Finley and I became friends about four years ago when we were both on one of those cold case forum pages. We had the same theory, and then we started chatting in real life. She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend, and it’s probably because she has no idea who I really am. It’s maybe why I’ve told her everything about me. “You texted me at 3:00 a.m., and all you said was, ‘Baby daddy has been located.’”
“I mean,” I walk out of my bedroom, “it’s pretty self-explanatory.”
“I spoke to you two days ago.” She’s the only one who knows I’m pregnant, and she’s been checking on me almost daily to make sure I’m okay. “And you still had no leads on who he could be?”