Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
But this time, I come home at ten thirty. Grim’s fault. Guy’s got a talent for hooking up with people and ditching me halfway through the night.
I push the door to the house open and hear voices coming from upstairs.
Dad’s bedroom.
Holy fucking shit. I’m so stunned and excited I straight up don’t even contemplate not eavesdropping. Nope. I tiptoe like a cartoon robber to the stairway and strain my ears.
“…sure you want to do this?” Dad asks. I’m just happy I tuned in before he and Dixie started doing the nasty. I’m definitely bailing before it’s showtime.
“Yeah,” Dixie voice sounds certain yet a little wobbly. “I’m sure. Are you?”
Ew. They sound like fifteen-year-old virgins. Which is kind of adorable, knowing that Dad slept with, like, four digits of women before he and Mom got together.
“I want this,” Dad admits, clearing his throat. “Actually…I need this. Lev’s going off to the military and I’m going to need something to do with myself. And that something can’t be butting into my grown-ass children’s shit, you know?”
“You have a great way with words,” Dixie compliments. Dad chuckles. So do I.
C’mon, Dad. Make a move.
But instead of listening to rustling of clothes and the sound of wet kisses and being scarred for life, I hear Dixie saying, “All right. Great. We’ll do this. As friends.”
“Best friends,” he corrects. “Yeah.”
“So I’ll put down an offer right now. No point in waiting until Monday. The house is showing again on Sunday and I’m afraid someone will offer cash and snatch it.”
Uhm, what?
They’re talking about Dixie buying the house down the goddamn street? What a letdown. I thought they were gonna pork.
“What’s the problem? You’ll be paying cash,” Dad says.
She laughs. “Whose cash?”
“Mine.”
“Dean, I—”
“No, you listen to me. For this to work, you need to live close by.”
For what to work? What’s happening?
“I have the means. You have the will,” Dad coaxes.
“I—I really don’t feel comfortable with that,” she stammers.
“That’s great for practice, since you’ll be feeling all kinds of uncomfortable when you have my baby inside you. Lev came out almost eight pounds. It was a hot mess. We Coles are really huge babies.”
Ho. Ly. Shhh. His dirty talk is so rusty. Poor Dixie.
“Are you okay with…the process?” She clears her throat.
“You kidding me? Jerking off has become my specialty since Rosie died.”
Yeah. Okay. Dude’s a lost cause.
I hear the clack of Dixie’s heels as she walks around the second floor, and before I can make myself scarce, she appears at the top of the stairway.
Our eyes meet. I’m caught red-handed. But somehow, I’m more excited than embarrassed about everything I just heard. I give her a thumbs-up.
Dixie smiles, winking at me.
I wink back.
Thank you, she mouths. I nod.
I trust her with my dad’s heart.
And that’s huge.
CHAPTER 41
Lev
I check our mailbox religiously, because Mel told me the rehab center Bailey is in encourages them to write letters to their loved ones.
I never get one, and it always surprises me, even though it shouldn’t.
I took off our goddamn friendship bracelet. Then told her we’re done. Expecting a letter is some next-level bullshit. I should be happy she didn’t set my house on fire.
A letter with the Californian government logo catches my attention. It is addressed to yours truly.
I’ve no idea what I could have done to piss the entire state of California off. I’m one of the only citizens in this damn place who knows how to separate all the recycling into the colored bins correctly.
Maybe they want to celebrate me for that. A street after my name sounds like a good idea.
Maybe jury duty?
I pluck the letter from the mailbox and walk inside. Leaning a hip against the dining table, I rip the envelope open. My mouth slacks and dries up when I see its contents.
It’s a copy of a letter of recommendation from the mayor of Todos Santos, Graham Bermudez. My eyes skim over the words frantically.
“…as per your request, we have sent the original to the United States Air Force Academy. We wish you the best of luck. Please let us know if we can do anything else…”
Holy shit.
Along the years, Bailey had encouraged me to volunteer with the city to clean up trash from the beach and hand out leaflets during election months.
I mainly did it so we could hang out because she did that, never because I thought a letter of recommendation could come out of it.
But Bailey must’ve remembered. Because I sure as fuck didn’t. This letter of recommendation is huge.
But…how did Bailey know I applied to the USAFA? That makes no sense.
I dial up Dixie’s number. She answers before the first ring.
“The answer is yes.” She sighs. “I had to ask Bailey for help, Lev. I knew you needed all sorts of things you didn’t include in the application and Bailey knows your life better than I do.