Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Blah, blah, blah.”
I smile despite myself, but it’s brief.
There’s a beat of silence, the kind that only exists between two people born eighteen months apart, who’ve shared a bathroom their entire lives, childhood bunk beds, and a car.
I can hear Sutton thinking. “You don’t sound okay, Aaron. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I fib, starting my truck.
“You want me to come over this weekend?” she volunteers cheerfully. “I can bring groceries and judge all your life choices in person. Make my famous lasagna?”
“Tempting offer, but your lasagna is not famous.”
“You jerk!”
“I’m stating a fact.” I shift into drive. “Smoke alarms shouldn’t be part of an evening’s entertainment.”
“Hey!” She laughs again. “Stop. You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Deflect. Pretend you’re fine when you’re obviously not. I can hear it in your voice.”
“And how does my voice sound?”
“Constipated. Like you have to take a shit.”
I laugh. “It’s a God given talent, what can I say?”
“It’s not a gift, it’s a problem.”
“To quote a famous chef, ‘blah blah blah’.”
Sutton refuses to allow the subject to change. “Does this mood have anything to do with Bailey?”
I shrug. Might as well give a bit. “Maybe.”
She scoffs. “Wow. Sooo specific.”
“I trusted the wrong people.”
Her voice softens. “Perhaps you did—but it’s not a crime. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“You lie so bad.”
I ease onto the highway. “What do you want from me, a handwritten confession that I’m okay?”
“Sure. Bullet points for extra credit.”
There’s a beat, then Sutton finally changes the subject. “Sooo, Mom called earlier.”
Oh, fuck. “Is that the real reason you called?”
“Correct.” She pauses. “They want to do a family trip.”
I groan. “Define ‘trip’.”
She laughs. “Somewhere warm. Tropical. Dad already started a spreadsheet for a PowerPoint presentation to convince you.”
“That tracks.” The man loves files, paper copies, and data.
“During your off season, so you can dial down the anxiety about it.”
“I mean…”
“No one will notice you on a beach somewhere. You’re so basic and blendy.” I can hear her rolling her eyes through the phone, the sarcastic brat. “You’ll survive, all the while pretending you’re dead inside.”
“I am dead inside.”
My sister’s snort sounds exactly like mine. “Anyway. I’ll keep you posted if we have a meeting about it.”
A meeting? Fuck my life.
“Maybe if you meet someone, she can come along.”
Not likely.
“Someone normal this time, who doesn’t treat you like piece of meat. Or her ticket to brand deals.”
I frown. “That’s specific.”
My sister huffs as if she’s crossing her arms indignantly. “I don’t want to be sitting next to some woman in the family suite who’s more interested in camera time than in you.”
“Harsh.”
“Accurate.”
The road blurs a little as my mind drifts, traitor that it is…
Soft voice.
Kind eyes.
A romantic name that’s messing with my head.
Juliette Kennedy.
Sutton continues yapping. “I want you with a girl who wants a family. Someone who’d rather be in the stands with a hot chocolate and an old Ice Wolves hoodie—not one wearing studded leather pants and a cropped T-shirt.”
Bailey wore an outfit like that once. It never occurred to me that it made my family uncomfortable; this is the first time Sutton has mentioned it.
“You still there?” Sutton asks.
“Yeah.”
She hums. “Were you thinking about someone?”
“No.” Pfft. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I know how you are. You’re like—a bear. But you’re also mushy on the inside. So, whoever she is, I hope she isn’t someone who will use you.”
Use me?
Ha.
If only my sister knew I ate out the enemy’s sister.
Juliette Kennedy is not my type.
Too cheerful.
Too delicate.
Too damn sparkly.
I bet she says shit like “oh my stars!” and wears cardigans to the grocery store and has no idea what kind of man she let into her apartment. Thanks baristas by name. Tips delivery people.
The kind of woman I normally date are bold. Loud. Wear a lot of make-up, make a lot of demands, and demand attention.
She appears to be none of those things.
And her brother admitted she was watching me in the office, which means she’s interested.
Which means she’s curious.
Which means she’s full of hope.
Something ugly settles in my chest: a plan.
Clarity.
I’ll be exactly what she thinks she wants.
I’ll text back. Bring her flowers. Give her gifts. Whisper in her ear, bring her coffee at work, make her feel wanted. Go down on her until she’s clutching the bed sheets.
I’ll make her believe there can be an us.
And when she falls head over heels in love with me—
I’ll show Declan what it’s like to watch someone you love get fucked over by the wrong person.
“Hello?” Sutton says. “Earth to Aaron.”
I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice when I respond with a “Yeah.”
She pouts. “You’re no fun anymore.”
I laugh sardonically. “What did I do now?”
“Nothing. Yet. But why do I get the feeling…” My sister hesitates, considering her words. “Promise me you’re not going to do something stupid.”
I stare at the dark stretch of highway ahead.