Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I look at Lauren. She’s watching me, her eyes sparkling.
My lips part into a small smile. “I can’t deny that.”
I don’t know if it’s the heat and I haven’t noticed it yet, or if she blushes. Either way, she looks down and clears her throat.
“I’m going back over to get the kitchen in order and the beds made,” she says. “Good thing you all brought fresh sheets and blankets. The ones in the closet here need washing.”
Harvey taps the side of his head. “The kids and I made a list, and I packed my truck before Jack got there. I was prepared.”
“Do you need help with your bed?” Lauren asks Dad.
“Yeah, if you can come over later and help me get the sheet on. I don’t do the top sheet anymore. I’m too old to fool with that nonsense.”
She smiles. “Okay. We’ll eat in an hour or so.” She motions for Michael to follow her. “Come on, kiddo. We need to have a chat on the way back to the cabin, and then you’re going to help me.”
“I wanted to go to the lake,” he whines.
“I don’t care. Let’s go.” She sweeps her hand toward the door. “Move it.”
“This is not how I saw this going,” Michael says as he exits the cabin.
“See you later, Harvey.” Lauren turns to the door, pausing as she faces me. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something but seems to think twice about it. Instead, she nods and leaves, following our son.
The cabin is eerily quiet. I watch the door as if she might come back in. As soon as I realize I’m doing it, I pull my gaze away.
Dad is grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
“What?” I ask.
“You ever worry about her?”
My brows tug together. “What do you mean?”
He leans back in his chair and slowly rocks back and forth. “She’s as pretty as a picture.”
“Yeah.”
“And smart as a whip. I assume you saw her piece on the television about her picture books?”
My feet shuffle against the hardwood. “Yeah.”
I’ve watched Lauren’s segment a hundred times. Her smile, her pride, the way she glows with excitement both cut me and energize me. I’m so happy for her. But as excited as I am for her, it also burns. She never talks about it with me.
She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t want me to be a part of her new life. It’s almost as though I’ve been replaced—our memories have been replaced—by ones from total strangers.
“I’m so damn proud of her, Jack. She’s a helluva wife, a helluva mother, and now one helluva businesswoman. Your mama would’ve told every damn person she knew about Lauren.”
I smile as far as I can without opening the gates to my emotions. I don’t want, nor do I need, to start thinking about what Mom would’ve thought about this mess with Lauren . . . or how embedded Lauren is into the fabric of our family.
Hell, she’s the thread that holds us together.
I jam a thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna get over there and see if she needs my help.”
Dad grins. “You do that.”
I turn to go.
“And, Jack?”
“Yeah?”
A pause fills the air—one, two, three seconds that seem infinitely longer.
“She didn’t have to come up here, you know,” he says.
His words are as heavy as they are crisp.
I don’t look at him for a hint to what he means. Whether he smiles or smirks or looks at me with a severity that makes a chill run down my spine, I’m not sure. But the words rattle around in my brain and taunt me.
“I know,” I say.
With a wave over my shoulder, I step onto the porch.
I know she didn’t have to come up here, Dad. But she did—for you and the kids.
Not for me.
But if there is one thing I’m known for, it’s being determined. I just have to work out how to turn this around.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAUREN
Itoss my hand towel next to the sink.
The cooler Jack brought with various food items dries upside down beside the trash can. Thankfully, he had the foresight last night to visit a grocery store for at least some hamburgers and hot dogs. There’s not enough real food to last long, but we made a decent supper out of it.
A cool breeze floats through the room, reminding me that the windows are still open. I shut and latch the one over the sink before making my way into the living room to shut that one too.
Frogs croak from the small pond just beyond the tree line. Their song slips through the screen door, bringing a sense of peace with it—peace I cling to with everything I have. As it grows later and later, the calm I’ve carried with me most of the night starts to wane.
Before long, it’ll just be me and Jack. What then?