Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Is that an observation or an accusation?
“Is there a spark?” she asks me.
I almost laugh. A spark …
“Bright and big and warm and lodged in my chest every time I’m alone with him,” I tell her, my voice cracking. I don’t know why I want to cry. I’m not sad.
Jesus. I’m eighteen. He’s thirty-one. What am I thinking? I thought Jerome was too old for me, but Macon is about the same age. And I don’t think I would even care if he was older than that.
But Clay replies, “I know that feeling.”
Yeah. These damn Jaegers. It was over for her the moment she first kissed Liv.
But Macon will want someone more mature. I’ll never grow up. I’ll always want balloons on my birthday.
“You did say it was the best you ever had,” Clay points out. “It would make sense, I guess. He’s the oldest, more experienced …”
I watch him, his beautiful body dressed in black pants and no shirt. I try to imagine him on me. Has he been on me already?
“It couldn’t have been him.” I shake my head. “Macon keeps everything pent up.”
“No one does all the time.”
By Monday, I’m still thinking about Clay’s words.
Macon is a man. Even though the bulk of my experience with him is intimidating and far from warm, he’s not the machine he presents himself to be. He’s not. He can laugh. Play. Be overtaken with desire.
She’s right. He may resist those feelings as much as possible, but they do burst forth at some point or another. In his hand around someone’s neck. His kiss on their temple. His thumb brushing a breast.
And around the time I get off work in the early afternoon, I let myself admit silently in my head that if it wasn’t him on the couch that night, I don’t want to know. Even if nothing ever happens between us again, I like the allure of thinking it might’ve been him. And that he wanted me.
I climb the stairs to Liv’s room to change my clothes before running to get the kids from Bateman, but when I reach the top, I see Army and Dallas moving boxes out of the room next to Dallas and Iron’s. They pile them in the hallway, the boxes overflowing with clothes, decor, fake flowers, and old board games. Mixed into the mess are an easel, a drafting table, and a large mason jar, cloudy with paint splatter and filled with brushes.
“You all are home early. What are you doing?” I ask, trying to see into the room. This door was always closed. I never had a reason to open it.
Army heaves another box to the top of the pile. “Macon said to clear it out.”
“What is this room?” I spot a window with sheer pink curtains and the foot of a twin bed. A pile of canvases lays on top of it.
“It was Mom’s art studio,” he tells me.
Dallas opens the window, and I spot Trace behind the door, tossing out an old vacuum.
Their mom painted? There’s no art displayed on the walls in the house.
Then I see the glassware on a shelf. I draw in a breath, holding it for a second. She was a glassmaker, too.
Macon and Army’s fight on Thanksgiving …
That’s why they looked devasted when they broke everything on the tables.
Shit.
Army comes up to me, gently taking my face in his hands. “You okay?”
I hesitate, turning my attention back to him. The swelling has gone down a lot, but the cut on the corner of my mouth stings. It reopened every time I tried to eat today. But I nod. “I’m okay.”
He smiles. “Should we send Aracely and her crew after them again?”
“Oh, she made her point,” I say. “Don’t worry.”
He holds my eyes. “I’ve missed you at night.”
I place my hand on his as he holds my cheek. I don’t know what to say. He’s the one I should want. Out of all of them, he’s the one who’s ready for forever.
I take a deep breath, looking around at all the things cluttering the hallway. “There’s some cool stuff here.” I peek into boxes. “What does he want with the room?”
“Hopefully it’s for Dex.” Army pulls away, back to taking boxes Dallas and Trace hand him. “So I can have some privacy again.”
And he smiles at me like we both know why he wants his room to himself.
“Why didn’t you just tell him you needed it a year ago when he was born?”
“I did.”
I start to shake my head, but then I stop. It would be just like Macon to punish Army for having a kid, but if it was their mother’s studio, Macon might’ve had other reasons for keeping the room off-limits.
I start to back away. “I need to get the kids from the nanny.”
Bateman has been paid up, but I don’t want to be late like my mom.