Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“That would suck,” Johnny, Sebastian’s son, said. “Never getting any in your own bed.”
Baylee, Johnny’s mother, slapped him upside the back of the head. “Go away.”
Johnny laughed as he walked away, causing the rest of the group to join in.
Everyone, that was, but Dark and Broody with the throat slash.
But, without straight up asking him what his problem was, I wouldn’t be finding out anytime soon what the fuck his issue was.
Luckily, once the subject changed, throat slash chilled.
He even participated somewhat in our conversation.
We ate. We drank.
And overall, I had a really good time.
Until about four hours into the night and the discussion of which branch of the military we were all in started up. And what we’d originally wanted to be.
“I always wanted to be a doctor in the Army,” I admitted to the room as a whole. “When I was a young kid, that was always my go-to-answer. Then I grew up and found out that I loved computers. From there, I added it to my newly discovered list of skills and kept right on truckin’.”
Torren grunted.
“I have a cousin in the Army right now. He’s a doctor. Layton’s always said that he doesn’t like it,” Torren murmured. “Something about having to work on soldiers that don’t take care of themselves. Then again, Layton’s a complete douchebag, so there’s really no telling if what he says should be taken as true or just his bullshit spilling out.”
“Layton Trammel?” Janie asked, a frown forming on her face.
My heart skipped a beat at hearing that name.
“Actually, yes. That’s my cousin,” Torren said. “Why?”
Janie’s eyes met mine.
“Because that’s the man that cost ol’ Uniball his errr…ball,” Sam offered.
Janie hissed at her uncle. “Stop calling him that, or I’ll kick your ass.”
Sam held up his hands in surrender. “Down girl. I was just sayin’.”
“Well just say it nicer next time,” Janie ordered.
I wrapped my arm around Janie’s waist and pulled her down into my lap.
“What did I tell you?” I whispered into her ear. “It’s okay.”
She turned to me. “It’s not.”
“It is,” I confirmed.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”
We spent the rest of the night like that, blissfully unaware that our lives would change in just twelve short hours.
Chapter 22
You can tell a lot about a person whether they bring their mouth to the banana, or the banana to their mouth.
-Janie to Kayla
Janie
My eyes took in the road outside Rafe’s house. There were cars lining the entire road on each side. The house catty corner to his had a shit ton of people milling about, and the mailbox had about thirty balloons—pink ones. Pink ones that said, ‘It’s a girl!’
Smiling at Rafe’s neighbors’ pure happiness about having a little girl, I walked up the front steps of his porch.
While I did, I wondered if Rafe would want to stay in Hostel.
It was just far enough away from my family that they couldn’t pop in, and close enough that I could drive back home in case of emergency.
I could totally see myself living in a place like this. Wholly and completely. It was small, but not too small. It had a taco shop, a bank, a school, and even an ice cream shop. What else could a girl like me want?
Not to mention the place Rafe had for himself was adorably cute. It wasn’t anything like what I would’ve expected from him.
For some reason, I envisioned a minimalistic house with little fanfare. Something with clean lines, nice grass, but not much else.
The house he had for himself was the exact opposite. It was a three-bedroom farmhouse style. It was painted white with red shutters. Even the windows had planter boxes with actual real live flowers in it. Real live flowers that Rafe got up every single morning and watered shirtless while he drank a cup of coffee.
While he did this, the neighborhood ladies watched. Seriously, there were no less than six women from four different houses on Rafe’s block that were always out on their porch. It was completely by coincidence, of course.
Kind of like why I always made sure to watch him from his bedroom window.
A bedroom window that had blinds and curtains.
Seriously, the man had his shit together.
He even had complete sets of cutleries in the kitchen. Nice furniture. There were even decorative hand towels in the bathroom.
And none of it was due to his sister coming in and fixing his house up. It was all his decorating skills. Though, his explanation was that he wanted people to think that he was planning to be there for a while. As a cover, he had to make it look “good.”
I agreed, but he hadn’t had to go to that level of “lived in.”
But I liked it.
The porch would look good on a Christmas card. Me and him. A baby or two.