Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Hey.” Shandy pops her head in a little later. “You look better, refreshed,” she says, as she takes a seat on the opposite side of my desk. “You’ve had a few calls this morning. Warning… one was your mother.”
I shiver at those words. Shandy knows not to accept calls from my mother unless it’s at the end of the business day. Mom talks too much and doesn’t understand that my life isn’t spent wondering which color my bedspread should be.
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“She wanted to know if you’d be in the office today.”
“Okay.”
That’s odd.
But okay.
My mother has always wanted me to work until I’m married and have kids, then she wants me to be like her and stay at home. Yeah, that was never going to happen. I like to work. I like making my own money.
“Hey, I know it’s not my place, but are you all right?”
“I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
And I am.
Each day is better than the last. And having August near makes it a little bit sweeter. I’m not sure how he can do that, make my life better, but he does.
And I like it.
I like him.
“You aren’t pressing charges?” I glance up to see my mother standing in the doorway of my office with Shandy behind her, mouthing she’s sorry.
“Come in. Take a seat, why don’t you?” I wave at the seat in front of me and she steps farther in.
“You aren’t pressing charges, Rylee,” she says again, and it’s not a question, which I thought it was the first time she said it. Now, I know it’s a direction. My mother places her bag on my desk, her hands on her hips.
Shandy shuts the door quietly behind her, and I take a deep breath, preparing for the onslaught of what my mother is going to send my way.
“And why would that be?”
“Because his family is powerful. Any disagreement with them could be detrimental to us.” She stares at me, and somehow I see a mixture of determination and hope flash in her eyes. Is she fucking serious?
“Do you know what he did?” I ask her incredulously.
She smooths her hand over her skirt before she sits in front of me. “I’ve heard. I also heard you flaunted another man in front of him, one who has been in prison, no less.” She scoffs, and it’s so loud a piece of her hair flies up.
“I didn’t flaunt him. August is a great man, whether or not he’s been in prison.”
“So it’s true. You are seeing that boy.” She shakes her head. “I expected this from Rhianna, but you, Rylee? Why you? Did I not give you enough love, that you have to go in search of it in all the wrong places? Because that boy is never going anywhere, and as a consequence, you will never go anywhere, as you will have his name attached to you.”
“Is that all you care about?” I ask, clearly confused by her statement. “Status and power?”
“We live in a world where that matters. You know this. You work on accounts for rich, powerful people.”
“August is an amazing man, not a boy, and I like him very much. He treats me better than Anderson ever did in all the years we were together. He makes me happy. Do you care about my happiness, Mother?”
She waves me off. “Don’t try to act like you’re hard done by. I care for your happiness. That’s been my goal all of your life. I want what’s best for you, and pressing charges on Anderson is not what’s best.”
“I’m doing it. He physically abused me all throughout our relationship. Manipulated me. Then he tried to…” I shake my head. “God knows what he wanted to do. But I can tell you… none of it was pleasant, and I’m glad I got away. But if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here, Mother. You would be visiting me in jail or the hospital. Would you have preferred those outcomes instead?”
“You know I wouldn’t,” she sneers, her hands playing with her skirt. I watch her nervous tick and shake my head.
“You’ll have to deal with it because Anderson deserves what he gets. He’s gotten away with things for way too long to be let off again.”
“You’ll ruin everything,” she whispers.
“No, Anderson did that all by himself,” I reply while smiling at her.
“I agreed to a family dinner this weekend, and you’re invited,” I tell August as I enter his shed later that evening. I should’ve gone home, but somehow, I found my way back here. He looks up, covered in sawdust, and shakes his head.
“I’ll pass,” he replies, going back to what he was doing.
I enjoy watching him work, the way his muscles flex when he works and the concentration that’s etched on his face.
I enjoy a lot about August Trouble.