Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"Oh, you mean it gets better than a defiant son, a gang member with bad intentions for a brother, kidnapping, torture, and murder? How could it ever be better than that?"
"It's been interesting, that's for sure."
"You know what would make this better?"
"What's that, babe?" he asked, his thumb starting to move across my skin, making goosebumps prickle up.
"If we hadn't left that drawer full of brownies back at the clubhouse," I said, my stomach grumbling.
"It was short of my promise of a lifetime supply anyway."
"It was a start. I am going to go check on my mom," I told him. "Meet this nurse that has been taking care of her. And maybe brush my teeth," I added, grimacing.
"I'm going to go talk to Lo's guy outside. He's going to need to watch from inside my place. The cops will be here eventually."
"Do you have to leave?" I asked, feeling my stomach flip-flop at the idea of talking—lying—to the police without him being there to help take some of the pressure off.
"Yes and no. I will slip out the back when they show up, then come around the front once you let them in. Act like the concerned neighbor I am. That kind of thing."
"Okay good."
"It's going to be alright, babe," he told me, words like a vow.
"I know," I agreed, giving him a small smile before moving upstairs, stopping to do the tooth-brushing thing before seeing my mom for obvious reasons, then going into her room, finding an alert brunette woman sitting in my familiar old armchair in the corner of my mother's room, casually flipping through a gun magazine.
"Oh! Hey! Eva," she said, beaming at me. "I'm Ashley. Or as Mama Dukes here calls me, Anjelica. I am, from what I can gather, a sugar baby whose old man refuses to die and leave me everything."
"Oh, God," I said, laughing. "Anjelica. I haven't thought about her for ages. She used to live in the apartment across the hall from us when I was a teenager. She never did get anyone's will signed over to her, but she got pregnant by some rich guy who also happened to be married, so he set her up in a nicer part of town. From what I heard, his child support made it so she never had to work again. So, hey, there are worse people to be confused for. How has she been?"
"She's been good. Complaining about my cooking. And, in her defense, I am not that great at it. She seems particularly confused in the early mornings, but from what I can gather, you work nights, so she is used to seeing you first thing. That schedule getting shaken up can be startling, even if she doesn't understand why she feels like something is off."
"Thank you so much for being here. I wouldn't have been able to sleep at night if I didn't know she was with someone who could take care of her."
"It's no problem at all. Honestly, it's been a bit like a vacation."
"I don't think anyone has ever called my life a vacation before," I said, smiling. "What? Do they make you do six a.m. drills up there or something?"
"Only some mornings," Ashley told me, wincing.
"Do you have to go back?"
"From what I am gathering from Lo's text, I am supposed to hang here until Gus relieves me. Depending on how things go for the next day or two, y'know? There aren't a lot of certainties right now. But I think everyone should be out of your hair within a week. Everyone is just being overly cautious right now. Why don't you try to take a nap? This is a marathon, not a sprint. Get your rest when and where you can. We are good here."
"Thank you again," I said, looking from Ashley to my peacefully sleeping mother.
"Anytime you need me," she said, smiling, seeming like she genuinely meant it.
When I made it back downstairs, Colson was coming in from talking to the guard, giving me a smile as he pulled the curtains closed so the police—when they showed up—couldn't see in, giving him a chance to sneak out the back.
"Want to sit on the couch and put on a show we will pretend we are going to watch, and catch a nap?" I asked, getting a smile from him.
"Sounds like a date," he agreed, moving over toward the couch, sprawling out on it, pulling me down on top of him, tucking me against the back cushions, but mostly draped like a blanket over his solid, reassuring body as he reached for the remote, flicking on the classics channel, keeping the volume low, then wrapping his arms around me.
"Are you alright?"
"I shouldn't be," I said honestly. "Under the circumstances. But I am."
"Good. But it's alright if you're not. Or if you are now, but aren't later."