Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“Alright,” I say, moving away from her with my hands raised in surrender, “but you’re gonna be thinking about me licking and sucking your rollito all day, aren’t you?” I grin big and cheesy. “Save me a sweet one.” I lick my lips, aiming for subtle, but given the way Dani’s eyes zero in on the movement, I fail spectacularly.
“You are such an asshole,” she teases, laughing. But I don’t miss the way she shifts from one foot to the other, like her pussy is responding to my silly flirting.
“Glad you actually showed up,” Dad says from his throne, a.k.a. a leather tufted executive chair behind his desk in his home office. He sounds disappointed that I’m here despite his being the one who asked me to stop by.
I don’t acknowledge the statement because I did almost ignore his text. It’s too easy to claim I didn’t see it, or was too busy, or boldly tell the truth, which is that I don’t want to talk to him.
But for some stupid ass reason, here I am. Glutton for punishment, I guess.
He’s got an entire living room’s worth of furniture in here—a couch and four chairs in a conversational circle on one side of the room by the fireplace, plus two chairs in front of his desk. Over the years, every kid has had a favorite perch, except me. I was never one to sit in here while Dad worked, didn’t curl up in a corner of the couch and read the way Kayla did or use the front edge of Dad’s desk as my own work space the way Cameron used to.
I mostly only came into this room if I was in trouble, and then, only by force, much like now.
I drop into a club chair, intentionally slouching and manspreading for precisely two reasons… one, to make myself appear completely at ease, and two, because I know it irks Dad for any of us to not appear proper and professional.
“What do you want, Dad?” I huff out.
He sighs and stands up, going over to his bar. “Chivas?”
I narrow my eyes at his back. Why is he plying me with top-shelf liquor in the middle of the afternoon? There’s a reason. Dad always has a reason.
“Sure. Maybe it’ll soften the blow of whatever you’re about to hit me with. Or we could get straight into it so I can start recovering from another one of our little chats about how I’m a failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name, and what was it?” I cock my head like I’m remembering something I can’t quite put my finger on even though Dad’s words replay in my head all too regularly. “Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t have expected anything better from a hellion like me.”
“Kyle, I’m done apologizing for that,” Dad says, although my memory says he never truly did apologize. It was one of those ‘I’m sorry buts’, where by the end of it he made it sound more like I deserved it than actually apologizing. “At the time, neither of us were at our best. I was angry, you were in handcuffs, and the officer dropping you off said you’d been drag racing… again. I’m sure you’ve said things you wish you could take back too.” He hands me a heavy pour of whisky, his brows raised expectantly like he’s waiting for me to admit my own wrongdoings too.
I’m not going to.
Have I said some mean things? Yes. Would I take them back? Nope. At the time, I meant every word… I hate you, I wish I was born into another family, why did you even have me if you didn’t want me, and best of all, fuck you and the high horse you rode in on. Hell, I’d say them all again, even though it doesn’t reflect too kindly on me. But I don’t, which shows my own growth as far as I’m concerned.
Instead, I swallow the double finger of whisky in one gulp, like it was nothing more than a single shot. Dad gives me a disappointed look and sighs as he lowers himself into the other club chair.
Not behind his desk? Interesting. He’s playing at putting us on an equal field by sitting beside me, even though we both know we’re not peers.
“Does everything have to be a fight with you?” he asks. I hold my hands out for a second, like ‘what did you expect?’ because he knows what he’s getting when he calls me here. “Fine, I have an opportunity for you, though I’m second-guessing myself already.” He gives me a considering glare, and I can read every thought going through his head…
Where did I mess up with this one?
Why isn’t he like his brothers and sister?
What’s wrong with him?
“Don’t want whatever you’re peddling, Dad. I’m fine without whatever you’ve got.” As I say it, I remember last night, telling Dani that I’m happy with my life how it is, and that’s true. Or at least it is when I can avoid my dad. The rest of it, though? All fine and dandy by me, and I especially don’t want anything that’ll leave me beholden to my father.