Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Oh, man.” Myla sighed dramatically. “It’s the best. Next time, you’ll have to try it. I bet you’ll love it.”
“Apple Rhett’s favorite,” Rhett said happily, taking a drink of his juice.
“Good choice, Rhett,” Myla replied. “Did you know that pineapples grow on plants? Most people think they grow on trees like apples, but they don’t.”
Rhett shook his head and I knew he was only grasping about half of what she said, but he was riveted.
“I’m back,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, gliding into the kitchen. “You got your drinks? Are you hungry?”
Rhett looked up at me questioningly and I nodded.
“Hungry,” he said quietly.
“Well, then we’ll have to get you something to eat. What do you like?”
“Apples,” Rhett replied.
“Maybe something easier,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.
“I have crackers,” Mrs. Hawthorne said with a smile. “Do you like crackers? And maybe some grapes?”
“Crackers,” Rhett said with a nod.
“What do you say, bud?” I whispered.
“Please.”
“You have very nice manners,” Mrs. Hawthorne said as she handed Rhett a few crackers. “Myla, you want to wash some grapes for me?”
“Okay,” Myla said, getting up from the table.
“Hey, Myla,” I called, feeling completely uncomfortable but unable to stop myself. “Could you cut those grapes in quarters?”
“I’m an idiot,” Mrs. Hawthorne said ruefully.
“No,” I argued instantly. “No, I’m just overprotective. I’m always afraid he’ll choke.”
“That’s not overprotective, just smart!” Mrs. Hawthorne said, smiling at Rhett. “Your mom knows what she’s doing.”
We were all kind of just standing around while my son chowed down on his grapes when Mr. Hawthorne strode through the kitchen door, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw me.
“Well, hell,” he said, sounding surprised even though Mrs. Hawthorne had to have warned him. “Good to see you, kid.”
“You, too,” I murmured. He must have come straight from work because he was wearing a greasy t-shirt. He’d also obviously left there in a hurry because while he’d cleaned his hands and wrists thoroughly, there was still black grease starting about halfway up his forearms.
“Holy Christ,” he muttered as Rhett turned to look at him.
“This is Rhett,” I said, setting my hand gently on the top of his head.
“Not the second coming,” Mrs. Hawthorne joked.
“You’re not funny,” Mr. Hawthorne snapped, but there was no heat in the words.
“Just trying to lighten the mood,” she said a bit nervously.
Mr. Hawthorne shook his head. “It’s nice to meet ya, Rhett,” he said, his eyes on my boy. “I’m afraid the mood ain’t gonna get any lighter. Mick’s—”
“Right behind you,” Myla said helpfully.
My eyes shot up above Mr. Hawthorne’s shoulder and my belly swooped in a way it hadn’t in nearly three years. My skin tingled, my mouth watered and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as his eyes met mine.
Then everything inside me stilled as his eyes traveled down my arm to where my fingers tangled in Rhett’s hair, his eyes widened, and he lost his balance, stumbling into the doorframe.
Chapter 2
Michael
I hadn’t quite believed it when my dad came to let me know that Emilia had shown up at their house out of the blue. I knew it wasn’t something he’d lie about—what would be the point of that? I just couldn’t really wrap my head around it. I hadn’t seen or heard from her in three fucking years.
One day we’d been happy as hell floating down the river in a couple of inner tubes and the next, she’d just vanished. No phone call. No letter. Nothing. Her parents had just packed her up and left for parts unknown. The only reason we’d known they weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere was the fact that a local realtor my dad knew had spent the rest of the summer selling their house.
So, while I’d recognized the old Subaru parked in front of my parents’ house, I was still fucking stunned when I stepped inside the kitchen and there she was, standing by the table as if no time had passed. Her hair was longer than I’d ever seen it and her face had thinned out, making her eyes seem even bigger than they’d been before—but it was her. I’d know her anywhere.
I glanced down her body instinctively, both calculating the changes and making sure she was in one piece, but stopped short at her hip. A little face peeked around the chair next to her and it felt like my legs had turned to water beneath me. I stumbled to the side, bouncing off the doorframe.
“Michael.” She stepped forward in concern then paused as I regained my footing.
“What the hell?” I breathed, staring at that little face.
It was like being transported back in time and looking into a mirror.
“This is Rhett,” Emilia said. She was going for confident, and it probably would’ve worked if her voice hadn’t shook.
“Hi, Rhett,” I stuttered, still completely disoriented. He looked so much like me. He had to be mine, right? Of course he was. He looked the right age.