Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
I stay silent because while I know he’s being genuine, I don’t believe the words. People around here are judgmental as hell, and even though plenty of them have had their own share of scandals—typical small-town drama like affairs and tax fraud—they don’t hesitate to ridicule others.
Swiftly, I change the subject as we make our way back home. Lawton Ridge looks the same with just a few different businesses.
“Just in time, boys,” Belinda says as we walk inside the house. “Lunch is ready.”
“Great, I’m starving.” I take a deep breath in. “That chicken smells delicious.”
“Your dad said you loved it, so I made it just for you.” Belinda smiles sweetly.
“Don’t let this one go, Pops,” I taunt as I take a seat next to Tyler.
My dad wraps his arm around her and plants a kiss on her cheek. “Never in a million years.”
As we sit and eat, things almost feel normal, but then again, they don’t. I’m used to sitting on hard benches or stools and scarfing down my food without really tasting it. If you hesitated, someone would steal it. It was almost always cold and bland, but I needed to get something in my stomach to keep my strength. Not long after I arrived at the facility, some of the prisoners found out what I’d done. Some taunted me about it, some were legit scared I’d kill them with my fists, but others—the ones who were lifers—didn’t give two shits. They started fights just to entertain themselves.
I only talked to my cellmate and a couple of younger guys who came in at eighteen years old. They looked like me when I first arrived—terrified as hell. I wasn’t a killer and had only gotten into a handful of fights my whole life, but I had to put on an act just to protect myself. That’s all behind me now, though, and today’s the beginning of a fresh start.
Being thirty-two years old and starting completely over in my childhood home is an odd feeling, but I’m not taking this second chance for granted. Instead, I’m giving all my energy to rebuilding the life I almost missed out on, and I hope like hell Katie will allow me to be in hers.
CHAPTER THREE
KATIE
After seeing Noah on my front porch and abruptly slamming the door in his face, I couldn’t focus on much yesterday. My first instinct was to smack him for even having the audacity to come to my house, but I didn’t. Hopefully, my reaction made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to see him.
I don’t know what the hell Gemma was thinking by bringing him there, but she’s getting an earful from me very soon. She texted last night, but I haven’t responded yet. I didn’t want to say anything I’d regret later since I was so mad.
Seeing his face after a decade took me by surprise. He looks the same but older and more muscular. Minimal facial hair filled his jawline, and his features are more prominent than I remember. He’s grown into a man, quite different than when he was twenty-two.
Once I left the house, I returned home and met Loretta and Owen. She loves spending time with him on the weekends, which really helps me when I’m busy remodeling. After she left, we had dinner and watched a movie before I tucked him in for the night.
Now it’s Sunday morning, and Owen’s watching YouTube on his tablet while I make breakfast. It’s become our routine. Since I’m so busy working at the house on the weekends and evenings during the week, we spend Sunday mornings together and hang out for a few hours.
“Come get your biscuits and gravy, bud,” I call out. After I set his plate on the table, I walk to his room to grab his hamper.
On Sundays, I also try to catch up on all the chores I neglected during the week, especially laundry.
Once I’ve put his clothes in the washer, I head back to the kitchen and see his empty chair.
“Owen!” I shout. “Your food’s getting cold.”
“I’m comin’, Ma!” He finally trails in from the living room with his eyes glued to his tablet.
“You know the rules. Turn it off.”
He releases a groan, then looks at me. “Why can’t I watch it while I eat? All my friends get to.”
I take the tablet and close the cover, then set it on the kitchen counter. “Good for them. They aren’t my children, but you are, so I guess you gotta listen to my rules instead.” I flash him a wink, but he rolls his eyes with a grunt.
“No fair.”
He’s only ten, but some days, I swear he acts like a hormonal fifteen-year-old.
“Watch that tone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He dives into his food, and I clear my throat to get his attention. “Where are your manners?” I sit across from him with my own plate.