Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
"That's because I am." I vaguely remember her following me to the couch last night and me telling her to go fuck herself.
"You think she deserves that? She just wants you to talk to her."
"I have nothing to say to a chick that tells me she wants to get married one second and then admits she's in love with you the next."
He shifts in his chair. "She's not in love with me, Tor."
Something comes out of me that is half laugh and half snort. "Oh trust me, she is. And ya know what? I don't give a fuck. I'm done. You can have her."
"I don't want her. I'm married." He fingers his platinum wedding band, turning it in circles. It's a habit he does often, and I'm not sure even realizes he's doing it.
As I sip my bitter coffee, I decide to let him stay in his delusion. Trying to make him see that Ember is never coming back is a feat I can't tackle. And if Sydni's attempts to do so haven't worked, then nothing will. Not many men can say no to Syd with her legs for days, flaming red hair, double D's, endless talent, and overactive sex drive. We'd all be better off if he would just hook up with her and move on with his life. Then they'd both be happy and I can slam the revolving door shut that she keeps trying to creep through every time she realizes she can't have him.
I'm not going to be anyone's second choice.
But somehow, I always am. I should just get the number two tattooed onto my forehead.
"What are you two doing up so early?"
Kenzi interrupts our silent stare-off as she comes into the kitchen - still wearing my sweatshirt from last night, no pants, and fuzzy purple socks. As she reaches up into the cabinet, she goes up on her toes to grab one of her favorite mugs that once was mine and the sweatshirt rides up, uncovering half her ass and exposing her white panties with red hearts. I quickly look away and bring my coffee cup to my lips. I didn't just see that. I didn't just see that...
"I have a meeting and Uncle Tor had too much to drink so he slept here. And where are your clothes? I know we can afford pants. You shouldn't be walking around half-naked when we have company."
She runs her hand through her rumpled hair. "Well, Dad, how was I supposed to know anyone was here? I just woke up. And it's only Tor. Since when is he company? He used to live with us." She opens the refrigerator and pulls out milk, eggs, cheese and a container of diced veggies, then bends over to take a frying pan out from one of the lower cabinets.
I divert my eyes again as Asher downs the last of his coffee and stands. "I'm outta here." He nods to me. "See ya later, man. You up for a ride tomorrow? It's supposed to be warm."
I'm always up for a ride. "Hell yeah."
"Dad, I'm making omelettes. Don't you want one before you go?"
"I don't have time today. I'm sure Tor will eat one, though." He kisses her forehead. "I'll be home around four. We'll have dinner together."
I'm not about to turn away food. "Actually, I could use something to eat." Kenzi makes wicked omelettes, expertly folded like they give you at a diner. When I try to make one myself, it ends up looking like road kill.
As soon as Asher's gone, I get up and dump the coffee he made and start a new pot. He always makes this expensive columbian crap that's way too strong and it makes my heart jump around for the rest of the morning.
"Did you sleep in my shirt?" I ask.
She flips the omelette in the pan and peeks at me from behind the veil of messy golden hair falling over her face.
"Maybe..."
Scowling, I take two plates out of the cabinet and set them next to the stove for her. "Kenz...I had that on while I was working on a bike yesterday. It's probably got grease on it. And sweat."
Shrugging, she transfers a perfect omelette onto one of the plates. "You can have that one. And so what? I like it. It's cozy."
"It's dirty."
She laughs. "Cozy. Dirty. What's the difference? I like how it feels and smells."
Her liking the feel and smell of cozy and dirty while she's wearing nothing but my shirt is not something I should be thinking about. But I do, for a quick second, before I bury it deep in that place in my chest with the other thoughts I don't let myself think about.
Like the thoughts that Ember should have been mine.
And the thoughts that I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to my father.