Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“He, uh, is—”
“Oh my God,” Mom croaks out. “Oh. My. God.”
Dad tenses and shoots me a questioning look. “Explain.”
Two decides it’s his turn to speak and launches into it before I can stop him. “I’m the second choice baby. You know, the one my dads got when they couldn’t have Gemma here.”
I’d wanted to deliver this delicately, but Two doesn’t do delicate. Finally, Dad understands. He goes from confused to pissed in an instant.
“Gemma,” Dad growls. “What the actual fuck?”
“Nathan,” Mom chides.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard Dad curse, and it certainly won’t be the last. I shift in my seat, feeling awkward about this whole conversation.
“Are you doing this to hurt us?” Mom asks, eyes welling with tears.
“What? No, it was seriously a coincidence that we were partnered up,” I rush out, panicking at the idea she thinks this is all some big production to upset them. “How could you even think that?”
Mom deflates. “Wow. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Well, I, for one,” Dad bites out, “don’t feel comfortable with you running off with some boy all hours of the night. It’s not safe, Gem.”
“I know,” I blurt, “and I’m sorry. That’s why I’m coming clean right now.”
“Do your dads know?” Mom asks Two, pain gleaming in her eyes. “How did they take it?”
“Nope,” Two hisses, “and I plan to keep it that way.”
Mom shakes her head in disagreement. “Two, honey, they need to know—”
“I said no.” Two’s voice is sharp like a blade, broking no room for argument. “Tell them the rest, Golden.”
My parents gape at me, shocked that there could be more. There’s a big ol’ stalker cherry to set on top of this screwed-up conversation.
“Someone’s been, uh, following me and leaving me notes,” I say, not able to hold Dad’s stare. “It’s a little creepy.”
Two snorts again. “Someone? It’s a stalker. You have a stalker. He knows where you live, where I live, where your brother lives, where you go to school, and where Hemingford Hall is. He even knows your phone number! It’s more than a ‘little creepy,’ Golden.”
Dad jumps to his feet, eyes darting all around in panic. “Why am I just now hearing about this? How long has this been happening?”
“A few weeks,” I admit, cringing. “Sorry, Dad.”
“I need to know everything,” Dad barks out. “I’ll have Jude search and Sloane—”
“Sloane knows,” I interject, “and she’s investigating.”
“It’s one of those followers,” Dad says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I thought your social media stuff was harmless. Apparently, I was naive. I want you to delete your accounts immediately.”
“Dad!” I shriek, also rising to my feet. “You can’t just take away my business—my job! It’s not one of my followers!”
“Until we’ve caught this sick piece of shit,” Dad snarls, “I won’t take any chances with my baby girl.”
Two also stands. “Sloane thinks it’s one of your buddies, man.”
Dad goes still and glares at me. “What?”
“They’re keeping their identity hidden for a reason,” I tell him with a sigh. “She thinks it could be a friend of yours or someone in a position of power in this town. Someone who can’t risk their reputation.”
Silence befalls the living room as Dad processes my words. Mom also stands, taking hold of Dad’s hand.
“Two, I think you should leave,” Mom says gently. “We have much to discuss with our daughter.”
“Yep,” he grunts, already striding for the door. “See you around, Golden.”
I hate that I don’t even get a hug or kiss goodbye, but now’s not the time to push my parents. They’re about to explode.
“A friend of mine,” Dad utters, shaking his head. “We’re going to find this asshole and I’ll ruin him in every way possible.”
As happy as I am to be out with my secrets and have Dad fighting for me, I know it won’t come without new restrictions.
I just hate that my freedom with Two is about to be yanked away.
Two
“Wake up.”
I blink away my grogginess to find Pops standing in the middle of my bedroom, arms crossed over his barrel chest and a furious expression on his usually easygoing face.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “What’s up?”
His nostrils flare and he motions out of my room. “Get dressed. Meet me in the living room. We need to talk.”
“About what?” I ask, heart rate kickstarting to life.
He doesn’t answer as he stalks out of my room.
What the fuck?
Did I run over Dad’s rose bush again?
I hope I didn’t leave the space heater on in the shop.
I barely give myself time for a piss and to brush my teeth before I’m throwing on a T-shirt and jeans so I can find out what’s going on.
The house smells like cinnamon rolls, making my stomach grumble. I don’t dare go hunt down food, though, since Pops is clearly angry about something. In the living room, I find both my parents already there. Dad is curled up under a blanket sniffling and Pops is pacing in front of the couch.