Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
This was the extent of us—one night in an alternate reality where bringing my enemy pleasure was my only goal.
Tomorrow, everything would go back to normal.
12
JAKE
“Can you push me higher?”
I widened my eyes in dismay at the bossy pipsqueak in a floral sundress. “How high?”
Charlotte pointed north. “To the sky.”
“All right. One trip to the moon coming up.” I grabbed the plastic swing seat and held it at my shoulders, pursing my lips as my little sister laughed like a loon. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
I lifted her above my head, eliciting a squawk and a new round of giggles before I ran underneath it, sending Charlotte flying at a ninety-degree angle.
“Jake!” Dad marched onto the deck with Ella at his heels and scowled. “Be careful! That’s too high.”
“No, Papa! It’s fun,” Char insisted, kicking her little legs in the air. She started singing a Disney princess song at the top of her lungs and swaying her ponytail, supremely confident and without a care in the world.
“Me too,” Ella said, running to the swing set. “Swing me high, Jakey.”
“You got it.” I melted. I couldn’t help it. My little sisters were the freaking cutest things ever.
Needless to say, Ella’s version of “high” and Charlotte’s were a little different.
Dad fussed anyway. “Be careful.”
I gave him the “Oh, please” look he deserved but dutifully kept Ella’s swing moving at a slower pitch.
“Where’s Nathan?” I asked.
“He’s helping Smitty choose pool toys to take to Vinnie and Nolan’s house for their barbecue. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I was planning on it.”
Dad and Smitty usually hosted the annual barbecue welcoming the slew of professional hockey players to Elmwood for Juniors’ Camp, but Vinnie and Nolan’s new pool was a big draw. Smitty claimed he was bummed they’d stolen their party away, but I think they were both secretly happy to pass the baton. My old childhood home was generally party central, crawling with neighborhood kids and friends.
The house was a lot more lively than it had been in my teenage years. I’d had my hockey buddies over occasionally, but I’d also spent a couple of weeks a month with my mom. I hadn’t thought about my father being lonely here till I’d moved away for college. And then he met Smitty and…let’s just say, the house was unrecognizable now.
It was still neat and tidy ’cause Dad was a stickler for organization, but it was a family home filled with toys and dogs and laughter…lots of laughter. There was always food on the stove or yummy leftovers in the fridge, always a kid or three on hand screaming with glee when I walked in the door. It was pure chaos.
I had a perfectly nice house on the edge of town with a brand-new kitchen and a huge private yard that abutted the woods, yet somehow, I preferred this. My place was a sweet respite from the mayhem, but…it was kind of lonely. Here, there were no unused rooms where silence clung to the walls like lost ghosts.
“Good. I could use help keeping an eye on our swimmers,” Dad said, squeezing my shoulder.
A word about Bryson Milligan. He was a handsome man in his fifties, tall and lean with salt and pepper hair. Dad was a successful real estate agent, a devoted father, and the nicest guy in the Four Forest area. Ask anyone.
He was the type who went out of his way to be involved in the community. He’d signed up for every volunteer position in town from bingo master to high school dance chaperone, and donated to every cause. Dad was quick with a smile and had a knack for remembering names. When I’d been a kid, everyone had gushed about how lucky I was to have such an amazing father.
They all loved my mom too, but she was an Elmwood native who’d never had to worry about fitting in. I’d never thought about how difficult it had been for him to be a single gay divorcee coparenting a kid in a small town where everyone knew your business. But he’d never complained. In fact, my dad had gone out of his way to make his entire life revolve around me.
And I knew it.
I’d always known there were sacrifices—fun-filled weekends curated to fit whatever activity I’d shown interest in as a child had been interspersed with long days alone for him. He’d never seemed to mind driving me to hockey practices or traveling to games all over the East Coast. To me, it was our thing. Mom was there too, but she had an outside life with her new husband that I hadn’t really been part of. And that was fine by me.
Dad had me…and together, we had hockey.
I’d been a pretty sensitive kid, though, and I’d sensed his loneliness, but I hadn’t known how to help. Mom had told me not to worry so much. That Dad just wanted to see me play…and hopefully win. She’d added the part about winning as a joke, but at some point, I’d decided that I owed it to him to win. To be the best.