Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
And when I’m all cried out, I call Dad.
“Honey? Where are you?” he answers.
He must’ve already heard what happened. I’m sure the whole town’s talking about me again. “I’m still downtown. I’m going to the cottage, though. Ben said he’d meet me there when he gets out. Can you—”
I don’t have to ask. He cuts me off. “We’re on our way, there in ten. Be careful driving.”
The line goes dead, and my new mission is plotted. I back out of the parking spot and drive straight to the Cottage Resort.
When I arrive, Dad’s truck and Joy’s Mini are already there, although they’re parked in the neighbor’s spaces so I have room to pull in front of Ben’s unit. I don’t know how they got here so fast, but I’m glad they did. When I climb out, I realize Mom is in Dad’s truck with him, and somehow, Shepherd is folded up into the passenger seat of Joy’s Mini. It looks like a clown car as he unpacks himself from the tiny vehicle, but I can’t laugh. Not when Ben’s in jail and it’s my fault.
“Let’s get inside,” Mom says, taking charge.
She guides me to the couch and pushes me gently onto it. She and Joy take up position on either side of me while Dad and Shep stand, looming in the corner like gargoyles ready to fight. I think shock might be setting in, because I feel numb and cold.
“Walk us through it,” Dad clips out. His arms are crossed over his chest, his feet spread wide, and his eyes narrowed. But nothing about him makes me feel like he’s mad at me. Oh, he’s furious, but it’s because someone hurt his baby girl, and he wants to be sure he fucks up the right person, in the right way.
I tell them about Ben and I happily sitting at Let’s F*rk, talking about me going to California to see him and excitedly kissing, when Roy came in with roses and all but accused me of cheating on him.
“You hate roses,” Joy interjects.
“I know, right?” I answer, rolling my eyes.
Dad clears his throat pointedly.
Oh yeah. Where was I?
I tell them the rest—the shit-talking, Roy throwing the first punch but Ben beating Roy up pretty bad, the deputy showing up but not caring that Roy started it and then saying he was going to take them down to the station to sort it out.
“Did they take Roy?” Mom questions.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I left when Leeson came back in, trying to catch Ben outside, but I was too late.”
“They did,” Shepherd replies, “though not in handcuffs like Ben. Roy got in the front seat like he was going for a parade ride around town.” He waves a hand like he’s the homecoming queen in the annual parade—elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist.
Mom whips her head his way. “How do you know that?”
He flinches at the full effect of her Mom-eye stare. “Uh, it’s on social media. I guess somebody saw Roy buying flowers and knew the sitch—” He tries to hide it, but he shamelessly points at me because I’m obviously the situation, but I’m too exhausted to care. “So she videoed him, thinking it was gonna be this sweet reunion thing. But she filmed the whole thing—fight, deputies, and all—and it’s got hundreds of views already.”
“Let me see,” Mom says, holding her hand out for Shepherd’s phone. He hesitates for a split second because no one wants to give their parent their phone, but when Mom shakes her hand, he drops it into her palm, not willing to fight that battle right now. I just pray he doesn’t get any dirty text messages while Mom’s looking at it. He’d never live it down. Of course, that’s mostly because Joy and I wouldn’t let him.
A few clicks later, we’re crowded around, watching what went down in real time.
“Oh, hell yeah!” Shepherd crows when Ben punches Roy. “Your boy’s got hands, Hope.” He mimics the three-punch combo Ben does on the screen, and I wonder how many times he’s watched this already. “Damn, that must’ve felt good. I’m so jealous! I’ve wanted to do that for years, and this guy rolls into town and steals my thunder by doing it first.”
“You’re jealous Ben fought Roy?” I repeat in shock. Hockey players are weird. Or maybe guys in general. Or maybe it’s just my brother who’s strange.
“Of course I am! Never liked that weaselly weasel. You’re too good for him. Of course, you’re too good for Ben too. And any other guy on planet Earth,” he assures me.
“So, Martians?” Joy suggests helpfully, arching a brow.
“Nah, probably not them either,” Shep answers.
“Guys,” Mom sighs, shushing my brother and sister. “Hope, how do you feel about all this?” She waves Shep’s phone, reminding him that she has it, and he snatches it out of her hand, trying to act nonchalant about it but failing spectacularly.