Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“What about the thing you say about the way I make coffee?”
“I’m… working on that,” he said, smile spreading enough to make his eyes crinkle. “I fucking love you, Cinna. And I feel really lucky that you love me back,” he said, leaning up, and sealing his lips over mine.
But right before that?
I saw it, damnit.
The Spike looking at Buffy glance.
I guess I owed Joel and Lip an apology in the morning.
Cinna - 5 months
“I swear to god if you don’t start throwing your clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor beside it,” I grumbled, tossing the clothes into the aforementioned hamper that I bought expressly for that purpose since having three extra people around all of the time meant the laundry situation was absolutely out of control.
“Who are you yelling at?” Dav asked as I walked back out of the bathroom, tying my wet hair up into a ponytail.
“Where are they?” I asked, looking around the living room that had been full just twenty minutes before, but was now suspiciously empty.
“Went down to get the mail, apparently,” Dav said, looking as confused by that as I felt.
I mean, it wasn’t weird that one of them had ordered something. After a solid month or so of settling in, they both kind of… became the kids that life hadn’t let them be before. Making messes, arguing with each other and us, asking for things without looking like it was killing them to do so.
I was almost immediately glad that Renzo hadn’t chosen to financially punish me, because these teens were expensive as fuck.
It didn’t help that neither of them had… anything. Sure, Joel had some clothes and shit in his parents’ apartment, but it got more and more clear each time he needed to do so that he dreaded going back in there. So I finally just gave him some cash to go get new clothes and shoes.
And Lip, well, he literally had nothing but one or two sentimental items he had with him while living on the street. He needed an entire wardrobe, personal care items, electronics, a couch to sleep on, the whole thing.
I mean, the couch was temporary.
It was better than the cushions on the floor, which were better than a box on the street.
But I wanted the kid to have an actual bed. Both of them, actually. In a room, or rooms. Preferably situated a safe distance from my bedroom, so I didn’t feel weird about sharing a bed with Dav, and possibly being overheard.
It was just, you know, a process.
When I’d found some private moments, I’d been looking at listings for apartments or condos that would have enough room for all of us. I even had some flagged to go do a walk-through of.
I just didn’t know how to approach the topic with Dav.
Sure, we were practically living together now. But practically living together and actually living together were completely different things.
And there was also the issue of, you know, taking Joel with me out of this building. Which could, essentially, be seen as a sort of kidnapping.
I’d looked into that as well. Having his parents sign over their rights. But it was complicated. It involved court. And that would mean someone might figure out who I was and what I did. Then no one would let Joel near me.
There was just… shit to work out.
“What’s got you looking so—“ Dav started, but the door flew open, and the boys were making their way in, looking a mix of excited and nervous as Joel brought the box over and handed it to me.
“For me?” I asked, surprised.
I mean, we’d been through a holiday together. And both of the kids had picked up gifts for Dav and I. But that was, you know, what you did on a holiday. This was unexpected and sweet.
I handed the box to Dav, feeling oddly nervous myself as I pulled open the top, then moving some of the packing peanuts out of the way to pull out a mug.
It was white with red blood splatter and little crushed bullets and bullet holes around the words scrolled across it.
Not the worst mom.
“The mug lady triple-checked to make sure we wanted the blood, bullets, and holes,” Joel admitted as, to my utter humiliation, I felt my eyes go all glassy.
“We’re still always a mug short,” Lip added.
I wasn’t exactly good with expressing emotions. Especially of the warm and squishy variety. And warm and squishy were definitely how I was feeling right then with these two kids I was starting to see as mine giving me a gift calling me, of all things, Mom.
“I think we broke it,” Joel said when I let out this strange, strangled sound.
“That’s her ‘trying not to cry’ noise,” Dav supplied just as I practically tossed the mug at him, so I could wrap an arm around each of the boys.