Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“You’re on. Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”
“Fuck that. We’re on the same team.”
I smirk at him and then glance over at Aiden. “You wanna play?”
His eyes widen in alarm. “What? No. I can’t.”
“Why not? You know how, right?”
“I mean, yeah. Sure. But I’m no pro or anything.”
“It’s a scrimmage, not the Stanley Cup.” I ruffle his hair. “You’ll play.”
I glance down and see Willow blinking fast, trying not to cry.
“You’re such a softy, Trouble.”
“You should play,” Aiden says to Gideon as we finish up our breakfast at the ice house. It’s midmorning, because after getting home last night well past midnight, no one wanted to get up early to hit the ice. Aiden stuffs an entire slice of bacon in his mouth. “Don’t be a pu—er, a wimp, Gid.”
Aiden side-eyes his aunt.
Gideon’s eyes narrow on the kid. Most people would be terrified of that look.
Not our boy.
Aiden grins.
“Are you scared, man?” Aiden shrugs a shoulder. “I get it. You probably haven’t skated in a long time. Maybe you’re worried that you’ll look like a fool out there, with the rest of us being awesome.”
I bark out a laugh, unable to hold it in. Aiden is a shit talker. I can’t wait to see how he does on the ice today, because if he’s good, he’d make an excellent hockey player.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Gideon finally replies, holding Aiden’s gaze as he takes a bite of his protein waffle.
Who the fuck eats protein waffles on vacation?
Gideon James, that’s who.
“As if you could,” Aiden scoffs, and then he laughs and leans over to high-five Gid, who’s smiling at the kid now. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Someone has to sit with Willow,” Gideon replies. “It’s our thing. We sit and watch.”
“I can sit alone,” Willow offers, but then Gideon’s work phone is ringing, and he’s scowling.
“Fuck my life,” he mutters as he answers and then holds the device to his ear. “James.” His brows lower. “When? How many?” His whole body goes perfectly still. “Say that again.”
“Shit,” Willow whispers, and her hand drops under the table to grasp my leg. “He’s going to leave.”
Gideon’s stormy eyes have gone ice cold, his face hard. The fun-loving brother from a moment ago is gone, and in his place is quite literally a killer.
That look even gives me pause.
“ETA is seven hours,” he says and then ends the call.
“You’re leaving,” Aiden says, sounding disappointed.
“It seems Blackbird is . . . well, yeah. I have to go.” He shovels in the last of his waffle.
“Twelve hours was not long enough,” Willow says, and the sadness in her voice has me leaning over to kiss her head. “The Three Amigos need more time than that.”
“I know.” He sighs and drinks his juice as he taps on his screen, I assume scheduling a flight back to Washington. “I’m sorry, you guys.”
“I’m grateful that you came at all.” I stand when he does and circle the table so I can hug him.
Once upon a time, I hated his guts. We used to beat the shit out of each other.
I love it here on the ranch more than I thought I would. It’s only been a month, and the summer is close to being over, and I hope with everything in me that we don’t have to go back to hell house.
Because now that we’ve been here, with these people and animals and the clean air, I can’t imagine going anywhere else. I can’t imagine being without them.
We find out tomorrow if we get to stay. I know that Deb and Ray have petitioned the state to keep us here. They’ve been honest with us every day.
And that night, last week, when they asked us if we would like to stay permanently? Well, it felt like I was kicked in the stomach.
But in a good way.
And later that night, I heard Gideon sniffle up in his bunk. And maybe I had a hard time keeping the tears away too.
Because this is more than I ever dreamed of.
I can’t sleep, so I walk outside the bunkhouse to sit on the back porch and listen to the crickets and watch the stars.
But when I get out there, I realize that I’m not alone.
Gideon’s already sitting out here.
“Sorry,” I mumble when he turns to me in surprise. “Didn’t know you were out here.”
“Whatever,” he says, lifting his shoulder. “You can sit if you want.”
It’s been kind of decent to have the ceasefire between us since we both met Willow. She’s a firecracker, and she doesn’t take any of our shit. If we start to fight, she tells us to get over it.
And neither of us wants to disappoint her.
We haven’t thrown a punch since we got here, and that’s gotta be a record of some kind.
“Do you think they’ll let us stay?” Gid asks, his voice quiet in the dark.