Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
We walked in easy silence, holding hands like high school sweethearts until we finally arrived at the end of the Iveys’ driveway.
“Sleep well, Malachi,” Brooks said after a long string of good-night kisses.
“Mm-hm.”
But I didn’t. My head was too full of him, and I had work to do.
13
Brooks
You know how some mornings you wake up to the warmth of the sun on your face and the sound of birdsong in the air, and the second your eyes open to greet the day, you feel profoundly grateful for all the beautiful things in your life that led you to this place?
Yeah, me neither. Fuck no. And especially not this day.
I woke up Friday morning, sprawled facedown on the lumpy pullout with a mouth full of cotton and a headache that pulsed in counterpoint to my heartbeat. The sun was shining, alright, and the fucking songbirds were out in full force, but I would have paid someone my entire savings to shut the blinds I’d somehow forgotten to shut and chase the birds away with a broom. I was still in my shorts from the night before, but I was naked from the waist up, and instead of my cologne, I smelled like green grass, which was fucking weird because I hadn’t been around any…
Oh.
Oh, yes I had. The whole evening came rushing back in a single second—Mal and me playing drinking games with Alana and the others, Mal following when I left the table, Mal leading me to the bleachers, Mal kissing me and touching me and making me beg. Mal, who had a piercing that was the hottest thing I’d ever felt and I’d give anything to see. Mal, who’d said we were dating and made my heart skip like Snow White through the fucking forest. Mal, who overloaded every one of my senses and made me want to realign all of my priorities…
Mal, who’d be going home to Los Angeles in two days, probably never to be seen again, unless I figured out a way to relocate New York to the West Coast or, equally impossibly, convinced the man to do something insane like move his welding kit into the Brooklyn one-bed of a guy he’d known less than a week.
In a lifetime of fixing problems, this felt like the biggest one I’d ever tried to solve, and I had exactly two days to do it, while also still working on the presentation that was going to make or break my career.
No pressure or anything.
I groaned softly and someone very close to me sighed.
My eyes flew open, and I scrambled back on the bed, making a squawking noise not unlike a violated chicken. “What the hell?” I demanded blearily.
“That’s a bad word, Uncle B.” Payton stood by the side of the bed and stared down at me in solemn judgment. “I didn’t wake you,” she informed me.
“Uh. Okay?” I closed one eye and squinted at her.
“Technically, Gamma said I was not to come in here and get my art supplies because I’d disturb you while you were sleeping. Only it’s been two Zhuzhus and a Bizzaardvark and you still weren’t awake.” Her little mouth pinched to one side, suggesting I’d failed her somehow.
“I…” My voice broke and I cleared my throat. “I have no idea what that means, kiddo.”
“Baby shows Myleigh’s watching.” She looked distinctly unimpressed. “Mama said I have to watch ’em, too, because today’s Myleigh’s turn to pick shows. And Gamma said it’s my job because big siblings have big responsibilities. And Mama said that’s bull puckey, and didn’t Gamma learn anything when Brooks moved to New York? And Gamma said, ‘Oh, Gracie.’ And what’s bull puckey, Uncle B?”
“I don’t…” I shook my head, completely mystified. I needed way more caffeine to handle this conversation.
“So, anyway, I came in here just so I could know exactly when you woke up. And also because it’s, like, super boring out in the living room, with Gamma crying and stuff. So can I get my supplies? Since you’re awake now, I mean?”
“Wait, Gamma’s crying?” I repeated, sitting up and forcing both eyes open again as panic made my hangover recede. “About what?”
Payton flopped back onto the foot of the bed like she was getting ready to make a snow angel. “About the tragedy. That’s why we came-d over. Gamma was sad and called Mama.”
“Sh…sugar babies!” I corrected, jumping off the bed. “What tragedy? Is it Grandpa? Is he okay?”
“Duh.” Payton kicked her heels against the bed leg. “’Course he’s okay. He was out in the kitchen a minute ago, pouring his medicine tea into Gamma’s houseplant when he thinks she’s not looking. And she keeps refilling his cup when she thinks he’s not looking. Grown-ups are so weird.”
I sat back down heavily in relief. “That’s the truth.”
“Grandpa told Gamma, ‘Calm down, Cindy Ann, or you’ll wake Brooks. Plenty of time to tell him the news.’ But you woke up all by yourself, didn’t you, Uncle B?” She blinked at me innocently.