Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“Fucking Americans.” The lives that have flashed before his eyes are stripped from his soul and expelled in one relieved exhale. “You’re bloody fucked in the head.”
“What? I’m not doing it on purpose. They’re the ones driving on the wrong side of the road.”
After a while, he’s clearly resigned himself to his fate, because the near misses barely faze him. He even relaxes enough to tell me a story about the time his brothers left him adrift at sea for nearly an hour because Jack had told their mom about their secret stash of cigarettes.
“How old were you?”
“Twelve, I think,” he answers, as if it’s a normal part of growing up. Abandoned at sea, learning to ride a bike, just the usual.
“And they left you to tread water in the middle of the ocean?” I’m gaping at him.
“No, I had my boogie board. Noah’s friend took their parents’ boat out, and we were all swimming, hanging out. I was floating on my board with a line tied to the stern. Before I know what’s happening, they throw the line and take off. Do a few laps around me, right? Expecting me to beg or cry. I was like, fuck off, I’ll paddle home. So they left me.”
“No offense, but your brothers kind of suck.”
He shrugs, a grin stretching his lips. “Sometimes. I think they’d like you, though. You’d fit in well with that lot.”
I feign a casual tone. “That right?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “You’re all completely mad.”
We stop off in a small village to grab a bite to eat. At a table by the window, I watch the foot traffic and the old man at the bus bench feeding the crows. A shopkeeper from the convenience store argues with him, shooing the birds away from his door with a newspaper. Undaunted, the old man tosses nuts on the ground from his paper lunch bag.
“What about Josephine?” Jack asks, digging into his roast beef sandwich.
I sigh glumly. “Well, I’d hoped Ben’s suggestion that Robert might have been living in Ireland would give me something more to go on. It’s such an important clue. But I haven’t found any new information. If the Ireland thread is true, then his secret’s stayed safe all this time.”
“Is that it? A dead end?”
“I still have to turn in something for my assignment, so I’ve got no choice but to move on to researching the other Tulleys at this point. Unless Ben comes back with anything new, I think Josephine will stay out of reach.”
The painting is now at the museum in Rye, courtesy of the Abbey Bly collection, but it mocks me in my memory, this ever-present smirking mystery amused at my feeble attempts to unravel its secrets. A total pain in the ass in fact.
“Speaking of Ben Tulley.” Jack’s casual tone is betrayed by the tensing of his jaw. “How was the ball?”
“It was fun. I’m glad I went, but I wouldn’t want to do that every weekend, you know? After the shine of the famous people and nobility wears off, it ends up being just another stuffy party in shoes that hurt your feet.”
“He didn’t…” Jack stops, then changes course. “You don’t get a bad feeling about that guy? Tulley?”
“No, why?”
“People say things.”
“Not everything people say is true.”
He frowns. “There’s pictures of him doing wild shit all over the internet.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just ask what you really want to ask? Am I hooking up with Lord Tulley, right?”
“That’s not what I wanted to ask,” he says stubbornly.
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
He’s staunch in his protests. “It’s not. That family is a bunch of black sheep. I was making sure he didn’t try anything.”
“And if he did?”
Jack narrows his eyes. “Did he?”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God. Just fucking ask, Jack.”
“None of my business.”
He’s so infuriating sometimes. And in my exasperation, I straighten my shoulders and give him a smug look. “Since you’re dying to know—we did almost kiss, but we got interrupted.”
His jaw ticks.
“What? No lecture?”
“Do you want one?” he asks.
“Not particularly, no. Because I didn’t do anything wrong.” I push the rest of my sandwich away, my appetite gone.
“Tulley is almost a decade older than you. You realize that, right?”
“Yes, Jack. I can count.”
He studies me for a long beat before wiping his hands and tossing the balled-up napkin on his plate. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Sure.” I swipe the car keys from the table as he reaches for them. “But I’m driving.”
He scoffs, practically chasing me out the door. “The hell you are. I’ve too much to live for.”
In the tiny parking lot, I dangle the keys in front of him. “You want these? I’ll give them back if you tell the truth.”
“About what?”
“What do you care if there’s something happening with me and Ben Tulley? Seriously, Jack. Why do you care so much?”