Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I nodded. “I bet he’s angry. Comin’ here is like pullin’ out the heavy artillery. He’s no good on the phone or in text, but in person…?” I whistled. “He knows exactly when and how to strike.”
I wouldn’t say I’d ever feared my father. He had a tall and wiry frame, though what he lacked in bulk, he made up for with an air of authority and an impressive glower that’d definitely made me wanna piss my pants a couple times as a teenager.
I took a deep breath as we reached Marten Lane, and it didn’t take long for me to spot a truck at the end of the street that didn’t belong here.
Sebastian parked behind it. I scanned the muddy plot of land and wondered what my father had seen. Total mayhem, maybe. We’d taken measurements for the main house, and we’d drilled to get a better sense of the work ahead of us—if we’d need to use explosives to clear rock or something like that. So far, so good. It just looked bad because of the damn weather. And we hadn’t cleared the terrain along the eastern side of the lot where it was mostly shrubs and small trees that didn’t belong here.
As far as I knew, there were only five trees in total that would be left alone on the property. An oak tree near the exit, then the four trees Sebastian had transplanted today. Two apple trees on the right side of the guesthouse, two plum trees on the left. As they grew, they would provide a nicer view than just the cliffside.
“The trees look good,” I managed to say.
Knowing my dad, he’d have questions. He always did. Questions and a critical eye.
On a good day, none of that would’ve bothered me. I had a critical eye too. My field was full of posers.
“Hey.” Sebastian shifted in his seat to face me better, and he cupped the back of my neck. “Come closer, dammit.”
He stole a quick smile from me at that, and I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned closer to him.
“Listen to me.” His hands framed my face, and he rested our foreheads together. “Whatever he says, don’t let him take your progress away from you. Okay? You have a home. You have a family who loves you for who you are.”
He didn’t have to worry about that part.
“I know.” I pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
I prayed I was telling him the truth. I didn’t have the time to explain my grief, and how it was rooted in my childhood, not wanting my memories of my parents to be tainted. Plus, my future. I had parents, yet I didn’t…? They wouldn’t be there for me because of who I was. That hurt like hell.
I climbed out of the truck and told Sebastian I loved him.
“Love you too. Pizza on the couch later? We can even watch sports.”
He was too sweet. He had to be genuinely worried if he offered to watch sports with me. I chuckled and said I’d hold him to that, then closed the door and began my too-short walk toward the guesthouse.
You have a home. You have a family who loves you for who you are.
I needed to lay a gravel path before it got colder, unless I wanted to bring all the mud into the house with me.
I scraped my boots off on the little concrete stoop before I opened the door, and I wasn’t prepared to see him. He was right there across the room, inspecting the shelves I’d built under the stairs.
His hat was on the kitchen bar.
He turned around as I closed the door, and I automatically looked away. Boots off—shit. I hoped Sebastian or Soph grabbed my jacket from the sports bar.
I ran my fingers through my hair and wondered how the hell I could occupy myself. If I did something with my hands, I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. Maybe coffee—
“Blake.”
Goddammit. I nodded with a dip of my chin and made my way to the kitchen. “I see you figured out there was somethin’ outside of Georgia. Coffee?”
“I won’t say no to a cup.” He cleared his throat and walked closer. “How did the game go?”
“It was halftime when I left,” I replied, replacing the filter in the coffeemaker. He was gonna ask about the score next; I could feel it. And it would lead to a rundown of the first two quarters, after which he’d move on to another easy topic. The house, maybe. The plans. The blueprints. I wasn’t sure I could beat around the bush for that long. I swallowed hard and dove right in. “Why are you here, sir? How did you even find the place?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled out a stool on the other side of the bar and sat down. “Your sister made sure your mama and I knew what you were doin’ for them a while back. With the house and everythin’. She emailed the plans for the lot—it had the address on there.”