Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Dec winked. “I’ve had your tongue and your dick in my mouth, T. I can handle a jellybean.”
“Gross.”
Of course the yummy sound he made went straight to my cock. I tugged at my jeans to relieve the pressure when I pulled up to the curb in front of the single-story white ranch-style house. Fucking fantastic.
Dec glanced out the window at the light-yellow house next door. A giant olive tree blocked the front window, hiding a portion of the exterior from view.
“Everything looks different, but kind of the same.”
“Time does that. You ready?”
Declan met me on the sidewalk. I led the way up the neatly trimmed path toward the house, opening the door with my usual, “Hey, I’m home,” as though I still lived there.
“I’m in the kitchen!” Mom called.
Not much had changed. It was a basic tract home built in the seventies with stucco siding, thin walls, and high ceilings. Every house in the neighborhood had a similar layout, including Dec’s former place next door. A formal living room that no one used in the front of the house led to a dining area, then the family room beyond…where everything happened. Over the years, my parents had repainted and bought new furniture, but otherwise, it must have looked familiar to Dec. He’d practically lived here when we were kids.
He paused briefly to peek at a few photos. My mom had a thing for family collages. And she didn’t update them…she added more frames. The long wall leading to the great room was covered with pictures of my sisters and me in every stage of life. Baby pics, elementary school class photos…and every unfortunate stage leading to adulthood. I used to hurry guests by this section, but now I thought it was a cool time capsule.
Dec pointed at a faded photo from a quarter of a century ago. “Wow. That was us.”
I squinted as I stepped closer. Yep. We were Power Rangers, posed in “tough guy” stances with our hands on our hips. The picture was small and wedged in the corner of the frame. It would have been easy to miss…unless you knew to look for it. I studied Dec’s profile for a second, noting the wonder in his expression.
“We look like Charlie,” I quipped.
Dec chuckled and opened his mouth to speak just as my mom called out. “Where are you, Tegan?”
“I’ll be there in a sec,” I boomed before lowering my voice. “Listen…she’s doing okay, but she gets tired quickly, so—”
“There you are! I—” Mom came around the corner and stopped in her tracks. She gasped in shock and set her hand over her heart. “Declan McNamara. Is that really you?”
“Hi, Mrs. Monroe. How are you?” His voice was small and raw with emotion.
I couldn’t remember ever seeing Dec look so damn overwhelmed and defenseless. The man embodied confidence. Anyone who could walk onstage armed with a guitar and a handful of songs he’d written had to have balls of steel. I’d seen him plow through competition, then correct course when he realized he’d made a wrong turn. He was the more refined version of Justin. He didn’t bulldoze…he coerced. It worked for him.
Dec wasn’t afraid of making mistakes. He was afraid of not taking chances. He’d always been that way. Headstrong, courageous, and self-assured. Sure, we had history and more issues than Sports Illustrated, but I admired his tenacity and his drive.
But at that moment, he wasn’t the man who confused and confounded me. He wasn’t an ex-archnemesis or my new fake boyfriend. He was the kid next door. The boy I grew up with. Witnessing years fall away like a physical thing made me feel funny inside.
I was prepared for this to be awkward. It wasn’t. It was sweet. I felt oddly protective of him, my mom, this moment… And I had no idea why.
“I’m—oh, my gosh. I can’t believe…” Mom’s voice trailed off as she gave Dec a thorough once-over. She snapped out of her reverie in a flash and opened her arms wide, pulling him in for a patent Monroe hug. It was a sort of full-body embrace that my family reserved for special people and extraordinary circumstance. If given properly, the recipient would feel a little dazed when released.
He grinned as he stepped out of her arms. “It’s really great to see you. You look fantastic.”
Mom barked a laugh before patting her bald head. “You fabulous liar! I’m placing bets on what shade of red my hair will be when it grows back.”
“Grayish red?” I suggested.
She smacked my butt, then hugged me. “You’re very naughty, Tegan. You should have warned me so I could put a scarf on and not scare poor Dec.”
“Don’t be silly. I wasn’t kidding. You look beautiful. I can’t begin to tell you how nice it is to be here. It’s been a long time,” he said earnestly.