Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Nereida “Nedi” Fernandez, the personal private investigator I’m paying to track down Joeski’s long lost sibling, is excited by the task claiming the bigger the challenge the more fun she has.
Pretty sure what she really means is the bigger the challenge, the more money she’ll make.
I honestly don’t give a fuck about how much it costs.
I just want that dub.
Connecting my beauty to the one part of herself I know she’s struggled to find…to those roots I know she wishes she had…will be worth every fucking dime.
After shooting her a text of gratitude, I check the ones from each of my parents and hit the video chat button to the woman I’ve been looking forward to seeing all night.
One full ring is all that occurs before I’m greeted by her wide mouth grin and glowing, freckled face. “Congrats, Cap.”
“Appreesh.” I place my tray on the bedside table and flop onto the edge of the mattress closest to it. “And I appreesh you always wearin’ my sweater during roadies. You’re such a fuckin’ beauty, baby.”
Joey rests her back against the gray padded headboard of my bed – the place her and my daughter end up sleeping more nights than not – on a teasing smirk. “Well, I know how important superstitions are to you.”
“Traditsiya.” Retrieving the grilled cheese sando from the tray precedes me waving it in front of the camera. “We all have our pregame and postgame ritchs and traditions. It’s just what athletes do.”
“Yes. I understand you are all very superstitious.”
The glare she’s given is attached to me taking a giant bite out of the tiny object.
“Why grilled cheese, though?” A random curl unexpectedly falls into her eyes forcing her to blow it away. “I mean I know you’re gonna eat a hunk of protein-”
“Steak tonight.”
“Some sort of healthy carbs-”
“Quinoa.”
“Which we’ve discovered your daughter will not eat.”
An unhappy grump is given during another bite. “Not surprised.”
“But no matter what meal you decide to have you always have a grilled cheese sando first. Why? I know it doesn’t fit into your nutritionist approved meal plan a lot like your cheat day Hot Cheetos.”
Light chuckles are followed by me leaning against my own headboard. “Appreesh the mini bag you slipped into my luggage.”
Joeski shoots me an arrogant wink.
“Grilled cheese sandos have been my go-to since my very first game.” I casually pull off a corner piece and shove it into my mouth. “They were quick and easy for Mom to make and later quick and easy for me too. Plus, anytime we had a roadie and stopped at a diner somewhere to eat coming back, I’d order one.” The shrug is innocent. Absentminded. “Some kids were into chicken nuggets. Some kids were into mac and cheese. I was just into sandos.” As I prepare to scarf down the rest of the tiny, overcooked square, I ask, “And now that we’re talking about kids and eating habits, how’s Bella’s been?”
“Not good.”
It’s impossible not to slump in disappointment. “Fuck, seriously?”
“Yeah. When Daddy’s not home, we get sad. And when we get sad…instead of using our words to express those emotions we use food as our weapon and meals as our battleground.”
More frowns appear prior to me stuffing my mouth.
“However, we took a trip to Snuggles & Cuddles after school-”
“The toy store that fired you?”
“The toy store that had corporate beg me not to sue for wrongful termination?” A smug smirk is flashed. “Yeah. That one.”
Chuckles are given during the rearranging of the pillows to rest my phone up against them so that she’s dining across from me.
“We took a trip there and built ‘Miss You Bear’.”
Moving my steak plate is done on a questioning tilt of the head.
“He is a fuzzy white bear for us to hold when our feelings for missing daddy become too much.”
All of my actions cease to present her with another defeated expression.
“We also made Daddy a smaller matching bear,” Joey uses her free hand to display the miniature creature for a moment, “to take with him on the road for when he misses us too much.”
One hand flies over my bare chest in awe.
“And the same way Daddy has a digital scrapbook he can look through when he misses us, we made one we can physically carry around and look through when we need to.”
An undeniable ache thrums through it.
“And when missing Daddy becomes too much, we are to take Miss You Bear and our photo book and find a space that’s just ours to be okay being sad in – a corner, a wall, a chair, wherever we feel comfortable. When we’re sad, we need to give ourselves room to be that way in order to counter it coming out in our eating habits.”
“Is she…” my head slightly sways side to side, pain in my chest deepening, “always gonna be like this?”