Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Normally, it’s not…but Nina is different.”
Was Mom different? I wanted to ask so bad, but I held back. I knew she was. And I missed her like crazy.
“Yeah, I thought as much. Well, early congrats, then.”
“Thanks. The other reason for my call…”
My stomach dropped like a stone. There was more?
“I’ve been thinking long-term. About buying a new house to start our life together.” There was another long pause, and I could picture him wincing as I struggled to swallow that information. “I’m gonna put the house on the market, and the realtor will want to stage your room.”
And there it was. My mouth ran dry as I tried to speak. It was silly for me to remain attached to a house I rarely visited. Things changed, people moved on, deal with it.
“Yeah, okay. So…you want me to get my stuff outta there?”
“Yeah, soon. Besides, after graduation you’ll have to find a job and a place of your own anyway, right?”
“Right. No worries.”
As soon as we got home from the grocery store, I reached for a beer from the fridge, cracked it open, and guzzled half of it, hoping it would help soothe the burn.
“Whoa, take it easy there,” Donovan joked. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I scoffed. Damn, I was a dick. I didn’t know why the guy rubbed me the wrong way so much. I was jealous of his golden life, I knew that much. His parents would always love him and be there for him—forever. Whereas my stepfather was moving on from me and my mom. It felt almost final.
Donovan retreated from me, like he always did, and I felt terrible, so I tried to change my tone of voice. “So what else do we need to do around here?”
“How about you straighten the living room and I clean the bathroom?”
“Deal.”
When I stretched out my arm for a fist bump, he seemed surprised. Baby steps.
But even Girard showing up early with some of the other guys couldn’t keep my mood at bay. His family was awesome too—why else would I open up to his mom like that? The other night they made me feel…like I mattered. But how would I know? Undoubtedly, they were kind to all of Girard’s friends.
Friends. He did feel a lot like one lately. I found I was okay with that.
As we all sat around eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching the game, I could feel myself mellowing out. Just a little. Maybe it would help me crash for a solid twelve hours.
“Where’s your girl?” Fischer asked Hollister. Dawn wasn’t here tonight. Neither was Jasmine because she had to work. I’d considered calling her, telling her I was losing it after the phone call with my stepdad. Maybe I would tomorrow if I couldn’t shake it.
“She had plans tonight,” Hollister replied. “We’re not tied at the hip, you know.”
“Bullshit, bet you plan to get married after graduation.”
“I’m thinking about asking her, yeah.”
When his cheeks went red to the collective oohs and aahs, I grumbled into my beer.
“What’s up with you?” Girard whispered close to my ear, obviously sensing my mood.
I shrugged. “Guess everyone’s getting married now.”
“Who’s everyone?”
I nodded in Hollister’s direction. “My stepdad too. Called me and everything.”
“To get your advice?”
“To tell me to pack up my room.”
“Shit.” He knew immediately what that meant for me, and I was grateful not to have to explain it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I replied in a flippant tone. “It’s not like I feel tied to my childhood home anymore.”
But I could tell he didn’t believe me as he studied my expression. “You sure about that?”
I averted my eyes and sipped more of my beer. Basically, I was shitty company for anyone tonight. Add in Girard’s scrutiny, and I was going to lose it.
So I tuned in to a story Kellan was telling about Donovan’s brother, Ricky, who was a huge baseball fan and could give Kellan a run for his money with stats. And damn, just thinking about how good Donovan was to his brother, who happened to have autism, made me feel even shittier for snapping at him earlier.
I needed a time-out, or I was liable to bark at more people here tonight. Vickers would return to being scared of approaching me, after I’d given him pitching tips the last couple of practices. Maybe the nice-guy routine just wasn’t in me.
Rising from my seat on the floor, I practically fled upstairs to take a leak. Afterward, I escaped to my room for a breather, and as I shut the door, what did my gaze have to land on first? That stupid fucking bee. Maybe I needed to throw it in a drawer for the next couple of months while I got a damned grip.
But even as my fingers reached toward the top of the dresser, I knew I couldn’t do it. My shoulders slumped in defeat.