Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
My unimpressed expression remains.
“Please,” she bounces her beautiful body around in a pleading motion, “they need you to go.”
“Why?”
“They wanna see you.”
“Why?”
“Proof of life?”
“You send my Aunt Brandi a picture of us together every day. They have proof of life.”
And the only reason I don’t mind Aunt Brandi getting those photos is because she truly appreciates my craft. She also isn’t afraid to tell me when my creation lacks substance, something that has yet to happen with this beautiful assistant I didn’t ask for – yet am appreciating – lingering around from day to day. There’s something about retelling her adventures I’ve been on that revitalizes my soul, which is then reflected in the piece I’m crafting.
Crafting – that lately – has been occurring in between make out sessions on the couch…the stairs…the windows in her bedroom.
Windows she also let me finger fuck her against while a party boat drove by.
Truthfully, I think she only did that because she was worried if she didn’t keep me occupied, I’d swim over to them to try to hitch a ride.
I wouldn’t.
Or…at least not right now.
I’m…surprisingly content with being in Highland at the moment.
Do I like the possibility of running into my mother or my grandparents while we’re at Smudge grabbing more art supplies or checking out the metalwork exhibits down the road from Roscoe’s Wheels & Waffles?
No.
I hate that.
I hate it so much I would almost rather we never leave the house; however, I love the way June’s face lights up during our outings.
I love it so much that I’ve started helping her keep a list of places for us to go.
To eat.
Things for us to do.
I’m getting a little too comfortable with the canvas known as June Bailey.
And Fate knows I need to walk away from her before I accidentally do the type of damage that can’t be restored.
“Okay, well, they want a body!” She aggressively squawks causing my brow to furrow. “Er…to see your body.” Her nose scrunches up to the ceiling I was thinking about painting a mural on. “Flesh.” Frustrated claws are tossed in my direction. “They have to see that thing you like to shovel gummy worms into like you’re some sort of cartoon bird!”
“My face.”
June’s head falls backward on a dramatic huff. “I swear you make wording so hard.”
“But screaming so easy?”
Redness instantly coats the exposed neck I can see, and the second she rushes to soothe it, her elbow bumps into the doorframe. “Ou!”
“June Bug,” I gingerly call out, poorly hiding my chuckle. “Look at me.”
She reluctantly does.
“You okay?” My chin kicks the direction of where she’s now rubbing. “Sounded like you hit pretty hard.”
“I’ll be fine,” she attempts to smile prior to adding, “as long as you agree to let me take you to dinner at your mother’s tonight.” This time she doesn’t allow a pause for a refusal. “Look, I was told I’d get a huge bonus if I brought you there tonight, and I really need that bonus, Tuck. Ivy’s been sleeping on a futon for like six months because her ex-boyfriend stole her mattress, the frame, and every tube of mascara he could find.”
Intrigue immediately into my glare. “For what?”
“No clue, and I think some things like that – and why he couldn’t eat vegetables that were served to him round – are better left unanswered.”
“I don’t know. I kind of want the answers to those.”
“And I kind of want her to not have bad back problems before she’s forty-five.”
Guilt successfully grapples me by the balls so hard I’m left no choice but to share the agony, “Why do you do this shit? Why are you always the one to take care of your sisters?”
“Because I love them and that’s what you do when you love someone, Tuck. You’re there for them when they need you. I know you hate your family now, but somewhere deep inside you, probably to the left of your distaste for Brâncuși, you know that. Hell, I’d even bet two bags of sour gummy worms that once upon a time you lived it, too.”
Not with siblings because I’m an only child.
But with my cousins, yeah.
When they wanted me at a football game or championship I was there.
Fuck, whenever I’m in the country during the season, I still swing by to see them play whenever possible.
Dad raised me to be supportive of those I care about.
That matter to me.
Just like June is for her siblings.
Too bad for him and her, that the woman who gave birth to me locked that ability out of sight, same as she did everything else that once belong to the man, I’d give up my entire love of art for just to have another minute.
“Please, Tuck,” my roommate sweetly begs, entire body beginning to crumble forward. “Please let me take you over there for dinner.”