Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Seeing as she’s one crazy perceptive kid, she immediately realized that it didn’t sound “normal,” not like the other kids. A period of severe self-consciousness followed. That was only made worse when her best friend, Francesca, moved away, and a few of the meaner kids starting teasing her when she mispronounced words in class.
She’s been struggling at school ever since, her grades falling as she becomes more and more withdrawn. She talks nonstop at home, showcasing her crazy vocabulary and sharp mind, but she refuses to participate in class. Even assurances from her speech therapist that she’s making amazing progress haven’t made a difference. My daughter is determined not to expose her vulnerable underbelly again and regularly asks to be reunited with the sign language interpreter who used to accompany her to her classes.
But the state won’t pay for an assistant now that her hearing has been restored. After so much sacrifice and struggle to make it happen, the surgery we’d hoped would make things easier for her, actually seems to have made them harder.
Maybe hard enough that she felt she didn’t have much to lose by hitching a ride on a dark rural highway…
I run a hand down my face, fighting a sudden wave of emotion.
“Come here,” Binx says, wrapping her arms around me. I stiffen, intending to pull away, but then she curls her fingers around the back of my neck and whispers, “Take the hug, asshole, you need it,” and I exhale a rough laugh, my arms wrapping around her curvy little body.
She’s one of the most muscular women at our gym, with biceps many a teen boy would envy, but compared to me, she’s still a tiny thing. I’m enormous. Always have been. By ten, I was taller than most of my teachers. By twenty, I was the kind of big—six-six and muscled all over—that made people turn to stare when I passed them on the street. Even if I’d wanted to, there was nowhere for someone as big as I am to hide.
So, I learned to put on a brave face, to pretend I didn’t mind the stares or whispers that I looked “scary.” I faked it until I made it, and the attention no longer bothered me. I know Sprout will eventually learn to do the same—she’s a tough kid—but watching her struggle is painful.
Binx is right, I don’t want to do anything to add to her pain, no matter how badly she scared me tonight.
“How about this,” Binx murmurs, her lips brushing my jawline as she speaks, making me keenly aware of her soft mouth and how much I want to bruise it with mine. “I’ll discreetly fetch Sprout from the dance floor and bring her here for a chat. Then you two can decide what happens from there.”
“All right,” I murmur, my chest aching with longing.
I want to tighten my arms around her, to pull her so close there’s not a millimeter between us. I want to run my hands down her back to cup her round ass in my hands and tell her about the many filthy dreams I’ve had about her. I want to tell her that she’s my potty-mouthed angel, my best friend, and that I don’t want to imagine my life without her in it.
Which is even more reason to get out of here before I do something stupid with Binx that we can never come back from.
If she shifts forward even half an inch, she’s going to feel the erection growing behind the fly of my jeans and know I’m not as immune to the chemistry between us as I’ve pretended to be for the past two years.
Swallowing hard, I force my hands from around her and step back with a curt nod. “Okay. I’ll try to think of a way to get through to her without graphic descriptions of what predators do to little girls.”
Binx winces. “Yeah, don’t do that. Let her have a few more years of not knowing how awful things are. She’s having a hard enough time already.” She takes a step backwards, aiming a finger at my chest, “And call your mom while I’m gone. I’m sure Bettie’s losing her mind waiting for an update.”
I curse, my shoulders tensing again. “Fuck, you’re right. I need to tell her to call the cops, too. They were putting out an APB for any sign of Sprout.”
Binx nods, her eyes widening. “Yeah, do that. For sure.”
She turns, hurrying away while I pull my cell from my back pocket and tap Mom’s contact button. She’s so relieved that she starts hyperventilating, and I have to talk her into a chair to catch her breath.
By the time I end the call, Binx and Sprout are crossing the grass.
The second I see my daughter’s wide, worried eyes, all my angry words are out the window. I crouch down, extending my arms. She runs into them, and I hug her close, so grateful that she’s okay.