Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
She scowls, her obstinate eyes briefly clashing with mine. Despite our wide age gap, we’re alike in so many ways. Stubborn to the point of self-destruction. “I didn’t have tons of options.”
Damn, if that doesn’t stab a knife of guilt into my stomach.
Her gaze strays to the station wagon. “What’s with the boxy thing? Reminds me of Aunt Kimmy’s old beast.”
“It’s a loaner,” I explain, relieved she’s not going to argue with me in front of Dex.
Instead of verbal combat, my sister rakes her gaze over Dex, then actually smiles. “Is it lawn day already?”
Dex chuckles. “No, I picked your sister up from work.” He casts a glance my way. “Lucky we ran into each other this morning.”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t saved me.” Internally, I cringe at how pathetic that sounds. I’m resourceful. I would’ve figured something out. Eventually.
Libby’s done with this conversation. She shouts, “Homework,” and speed walks into the house. “Later, Dex.”
“Later,” he calls after her.
The door slams shut, and he shifts his full attention to me. “How long has it been just the two of you?”
Pain lodges in my throat. In some ways, it feels like our parents just died. And in others, it seems so long ago, I have trouble remembering their faces. “Nine years—well, eight. We moved in with our aunt after our parents died, but she wasn’t in great health. She died about a year later,” I finish in a small voice. Too many complicated, painful memories are tied up inside me to explain to someone I barely know.
His serious expression could’ve been carved out of granite. “Raising your sister was a big responsibility to take on. You must’ve been pretty young.”
I bristle at the observation. How many people told me to put Libby into foster care so I could “live my life” without the “burden” of a much younger sister to raise? Too many to count. “There was no way in hell I was going to give her up to the state to put into foster care. Who knows what would’ve happened to her?” I flare. “We get by just fine.”
“Hey, easy. I wasn’t criticizing. You’re absolutely right.” He jerks his head toward the Volvo. “Roman—Vapor—grew up in foster care. He doesn’t talk about it a lot. Not to me anyway. But it was rough.”
My throat’s too tight to do anything other than nod.
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“We’re lucky to have each other.” I let out a sad laugh. “She sort of forced me to grow up and stop making bad life choices, you know?”
“Not everyone’s capable of that kind of growth. Lot of people would take the easiest route possible.” He glances at our house. “You’ve done well.”
“It’s my aunt’s place,” I admit. “Was hers. She didn’t have any kids.”
He nods thoughtfully, but it’s pretty much a conversation killer.
“I should get going.” Dex taps my shoulder, then lets his fingers trail over my arm. One of his fingers briefly curls around my pinky before he snatches his hand away. “Friday?”
“Right,” I whisper, shaken from his touch. “Seven,” I confirm in a stronger voice.
“Seven,” he repeats.
And I’ll be thinking of nothing but him until then.
CHAPTER FIVE
Emily
Libby’s in the kitchen, picking at a peanut butter and Fluff sandwich when I go inside.
“Wooo,” she sings. “My big sister has major heart eyes for Dex.”
“Shut up.” I walk over to the stove and flick the flame under my tea kettle. “Is that all you want for dinner? I defrosted chicken. I was planning to try that pecan crust we read about and pop ’em in the air fryer.”
“Can we do that tomorrow?” she asks. “I’m already feeling crispy around the edges, and I wasn’t lying about homework.”
I chuckle at her teenage description of burnout. “Yeah, of course.” I pull out the chair next to her and sit while I wait for the water to boil. “Anything I can help with?”
“Not really.” She jams the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and jumps up, knocking the heavy wooden chair backward with a screech against the tile.
“Easy.”
She leans in and slaps a sweet peanut-scented kiss on my cheek. “Study sesh on Zoom with Mackenzie and Caroline.”
“Studying or giggle-fest?”
She rolls her eyes and twirls out the door, wiggling her fingers goodbye.
The whistle on my kettle blows. I stand and fix my tea. Stillness creeps through the old house. I push the kitchen door open and lean into the living room, listening for signs my sister’s safely tucked in her room. Distant giggles reach me and my lips curve up. She must already be online with her friends.
I return to the kitchen and grab my teacup, then walk to the wide windows overlooking the backyard. The urge to talk to someone about today needles me. Most of my friends have settled into relationships. I glance at the clock. Celia’s one of my last single friends, but she’s probably still at work.