Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“No,” I grunt.
I stare down my brother and wait.
If he tells Felix to leave, I’ll fucking lose it.
My brow lifts in challenge the longer CJ remains silent. “What. You got nothing to say now?”
I watch the strangest thing happen.
All of that anger and hate my brother lets himself feel for me disappears like a switch being turned off, so fast I question if it was even there, and the only thing he says back is a somber, “Okay, Jake,” and wow, he looks disappointed in me now. I’m familiar with this look.
And I almost regret what I’ve said.
“I’m going to bed. Keep it down,” CJ orders.
I watch him leave the room. Then I turn back to Felix and mumble, “What a prick.”
His eyes are huge.
“You saw your sister-in-law naked?” Felix asks quietly. “And you reminded your very large brother about it? Are you wanting to die, Jake?”
“I really didn’t see anything. I just want him thinking I did.”
“That’s pretty fucked up.”
“He deserved it.” I poke the bag in his hand. “What’s this?”
“Jake.”
Felix looks worried when I raise my head again.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back. You were out cold. And I really wanted this to be a surprise. I wouldn’t just steal your car.”
“It’s fine,” I say, because what else is there? I want to move on from this. “Can I open that now or what.”
I gesture at the bag.
Felix thrusts it at me, saying, “It’s not much” and, “I had limited options. Everything was closed.” And then much more softly, he adds, “Fuck. I hope you like it.”
I tip my head in the direction of the bedroom and smile when Felix chomps on a donut before following me.
When we’re both inside, I close the door behind us so my brother doesn’t bitch.
“Where the hell did you go anyway?” I ask, both of us kicking off our shoes.
We sit across from each other on the bed.
“Drugstore. It’s the only place that was open this late besides a gas station. They wouldn’t have what I needed.”
He peers up from the open box in his lap, chewing the last of the donut and fishing out another.
“A gift for my retirement?”
His cheeks burn, and he scoffs at the bag. “I told you I was limited. It was all they had left.”
I swallow down the laugh building, and blindly reach inside until my fingertips brush against soft fur.
“What the…”
I close my hand around whatever it is and yank it out, and now I’m staring at it and trying not to really laugh as Felix shifts the donut box off his lap and onto the bed and raises the side of his shirt.
“I had to get it for you,” he says, voice quiet and quick. “Look! It looks just like mine!”
I glance from the familiar stuffed animal in my hands to the skin he’s exposed, and just above his finger is the tattoo on the lowest part of his ribs—the fox with the fluffy tail. It’s orange and white, just like the plush, and I can’t believe he bought me the exact same one.
“Isn’t it cute?” Felix asks.
I’m nodding as I tell him, “Yeah,” and I think this has to mean something, because he could’ve picked the puffy white owl or the lion with the full mane or some other stuffed baby toy they could’ve stocked at the drugstore since the time I was there, but Felix chose the fox, just like I did.
I tuck the plush in my lap and smile at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His smile is bigger. “Now you’ll always think of me.”
“I already do that.”
Felix blushes pink, then nudges the bag closer. “There’s more.”
I keep my eyes on him as I pull out the next thing my hand brushes against.
It’s a hardback book. I flip it over and rotate it to read the cover.
“Baking For Alzheimer’s.” I lift my head, confused. “Um.”
“Limited choices, remember,” Felix says. “It was either this or Around The World With Pumpkin Bread and I don’t like pumpkin.”
I laugh at him.
“But, I was thinking, all the recipes in here are supposed to help with cognitive function and reduce deterioration and there is no doubt we both have at least mild brain damage from all the shit we’ve put into our bodies, so, these recipes might be really good for us.” He jabs at the book. “You could heal our brains with cookies and shit, Jake.”
Cookies and shit.
My chest gets warm.
“Heal our brains, huh,” I muse, flipping through a few pages. “I can’t believe I like to fucking bake.”
“I think it’s cute.”
I watch Felix stretch out sideways on the bed and prop his head on his hand, his other flipping back the lid on the donut box, and I swear he looks at anything containing sugar the same way I look at him.