Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Fuck.
Chapter Nine
Con
“Uncle Micah!” I heard Rory yell as I was in the middle of flipping a pancake. I glanced over to see her climbing off of the bar stool that she’d been sitting on. I had enough sense to turn the burner down to its lowest setting before I went around the counter where she’d been sitting.
My heart lurched at the sight of Micah as he slowly wrapped his good arm around Rory. His skin looked pale—where it wasn’t bruised—and drawn tight over his bones and some of the fire I’d seen in his eyes the night before was gone. He was clearly feeling every ounce of pain the drugs had blessedly masked the night before.
My hope was that they’d masked some of the shit I’d said to the young man too. The mere fact that I’d admitted how I couldn’t keep my hands off him had made me later wonder if I wasn’t the one whose brain had been riddled with drugs.
“Morning, sweetie,” Micah said, his voice sounding hoarse. I automatically went to the refrigerator to grab him a bottle of water and set it on the counter. I was surprised to find Micah watching me even as he hugged his niece.
“Con made pancakes!” Rory announced. “The ones that don’t taste like shi—” The girl stopped abruptly and looked at me expectantly. Micah arched his brow at his niece’s words and even poor Christopher, who was practically glued to Micah’s side, looked horrified.
“Shitake mushrooms!” I blurted. I realized without the appropriate context, there was no way Micah would have any clue what was going on. I’d only remembered not to swear around the child about half a second before I’d started to say “shit” so I’d had to draw it out into something kid-friendly. “I, um, usually eat the no-carb kind,” I sputtered. “But I have the good stuff at the back of the cabinet for special occasions.”
Shut up, Con.
“Not that you guys being here is a special occasion.”
Shut the fuck up, Con.
“I mean, it is, but not like Christmas or something. That’s when I eat them.”
Three pairs of eyes watched me with a mix of humor and confusion. “Fu—dgesicle pops,” I muttered, catching myself in time.
“There’s fudgesicle pops?” Rory asked excitedly. “Can I have one?”
“Well, I actually, um,” I began before my eyes met Micah’s.
“Not for breakfast, Rory,” the young man said. I used the bailout to return to the stove and work on the next pancake for the little girl and mix more batter for another batch.
“Are you guys hungry?” I asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Micah and Christopher approach the bar stools. Christopher had no trouble getting onto one but I couldn’t say the same for Micah. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut as he struggled to climb onto one of the higher chairs. Why the hell hadn’t I thought about getting Rory set up at the elaborate dining room table in the adjoining room?
Oh yeah, because the little girl had just been too damn cute when she’d appeared out of nowhere and climbed onto the stool and asked for food. I’d been in the midst of making my coffee and hadn’t even heard the kid until she’d spoken. If my reflexes had been any poorer, I would have been wearing the coffee.
By the time I opened my mouth to tell Micah he could eat at the dining table, he was already seated.
The poor man looked like death warmed over and I was pretty sure I knew why. The hospital had given him a prescription for the painkillers but after the night before, my guess was that he hadn’t taken any. I couldn’t really blame him. If the situation were reversed, I’d want to be at my sharpest too.
Hell, I wanted, no, needed to be at my sharpest but I wasn’t even close to it.
“Coffee?” I asked Micah.
He gave me a brief nod. It gave me something to do so I took my time filling a mug and placing it in front of him along with cream and sugar. “Christopher, do you want some orange juice or water?”
Christopher looked at Micah first and only when Micah nodded did Christopher do the same. “Juice, please,” he said nervously. At some point during the night, Christopher had returned to my bedroom to be with Micah, but I hadn’t wanted to disturb them, so I hadn’t done more than peek into the room to make sure Christopher was there. He’d been asleep on the floor next to the bed.
I got the juice and gave it to Christopher, then went to open Micah’s water bottle when I saw him struggling with it. “How did you sleep?” I asked as my eyes met Micah’s.
He merely nodded so I took that to mean he’d slept okay after our weird encounter the night before.