Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
And finally, to my left, on the north side between the food jungle and the gate, are the two neighboring cabins that belong to Ryder and Ronan.
It really is beautiful here.
I should probably go to Ryder and maybe apologize for giving him a hard time, but I don’t exactly want to. He’s probably sitting in his hammock in his little house, playing his guitar, and sulking. As much as I love hearing him strum and make music, I’d rather see Ronan.
Ronan’s my best friend in the whole world.
I set off on the path toward the twin cabins. All three of my older brothers have their own homes. It’s not fair. Dad says it’s because when a man turns eighteen, they should have their own home so they can start making a life of their own. Rowdy lives in the old cabin by the river. When Ronan and Ryder each turned sixteen, we all pitched in to help build them their own places.
Sixteen and seventeen came and went for me.
Still no home.
Heck, I can’t even go up on the roof alone to have three seconds of peace without the whole family losing their minds with worry. I’m fragile and something that always needs protecting according to them.
All thoughts of our property and its beauty turn dark.
It’s so unfair. It’s probably because I’m a girl and my parents think I need extra protecting. My mood sours considerably by the time I reach Ronan’s porch. Since both his and Ryder’s houses are next to the food jungle and on the north side of our property, it allows them the privacy I don’t have being that I share a room with my fourteen-year-old sister Destiny at the big house.
I start to knock on Ronan’s door but remember I don’t have to. Only Ryder demands we knock before entering. God, he’s so weird. The front door creaks open and my gaze sweeps over the small space. His room smells like peaches and cinnamon. My stomach growls for a snack, though dinner will be ready at dusk, which will be soon.
“Hey,” I grumble in greeting, pushing the door closed behind me.
Ronan lifts his gaze from the book he’s reading. I’m immediately warmed by his welcoming, brown-eyed stare. His glasses are slightly askew and I can’t help but grin back at him.
“Uh-oh,” he says, setting the book on the end table and patting the bed beside him. “What’d he do now?”
The fact Ronan knows me like no one else does fills me with pleasure. I untie my boots, pull them off, and then pad across his wood floors to his bed. He studies me as I climb into bed next to him.
This is where I want to be.
Not sharing a room with Destiny, but sharing one with my best friend. My favorite sibling. My Ronan.
“Can I come live with you?” I blurt out.
His eyebrows furl together and a frown tugs at his full lips. “Mom said no, remember?”
I roll my eyes, irritated at the reminder of that argument. It was only last month that I told Mom I was going to live with Ronan. She flipped out and yelled at me. We both ended up crying by the end of the fight. Dad diffused the situation, but the answer was still no.
No reason as to why not.
Just no.
Again, so unfair that my brothers can do what they want, but I have to follow Mom and Dad’s dumb rules.
“I hate everyone,” I tell him with a huff. “You’re the only one who gets me.”
“You don’t hate everyone.”
I ignore his comment because I do hate them. He smiles as I reach up to brush away a dark blondish-brown lock of hair that falls into his eyes. His hair is always messy and overgrown. I love the way it looks on him. Just like I love his silly black-rimmed glasses. I’ve put them on a million times since he got them a couple of years ago and still don’t understand how he can see through the blurry glass.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Ronan takes hold of my hand that’s fussing with his hair and squeezes it.
My heartrate quickens. He’s the best cuddler. “Ryder.”
He smirks, patting the sheath on my belt at my hip. “You still have your knife.”
“He was acting weird and gave up.”
“Our brother gave up?” Ronan chuckles. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
I note that Ronan hasn’t moved his hand from my hip. My skin tingles where he touches me. A shiver runs through my entire body.
“He got hard.” I narrow my eyes as I study Ronan, waiting for a reaction.
“Hard?”
“His penis, Ro. He pinned me down and it got hard.”
His face pales and an unfamiliar chill chases away all the warm, fuzzy feelings he evoked.
“What?” I demand, my heart rate thumping wildly in my chest. “Is he sick?”