Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Any clue where he is?” I curved the brim of my Bruins hat and tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Saturdays were money days for Caroline, and Gavin fucking knew it. Not showing up was a dick move.
“Probably sleeping off his night.” She shrugged and reached for the purse hanging by the door. “You know how Gavin is.”
“Right.” Unfortunately, I did, which was exactly why her text this morning hadn’t surprised me. He was about as dependable as one-ply toilet paper. Someone was usually getting shit on because he flaked, and it wasn’t funny anymore.
“If he shows up, just let me know. I’m off at five.” She glanced at the clock, where both the hands were nearly upright. “Can you handle five hours? She’s . . . in a mood.”
“She’s ten.” The three-bulb light fixture above the island rattled, and then the music cut.
“Says the only person my daughter likes. Bet she just saw your car in the driveway, because she’s been blaring that music at me for two hours straight.” Caroline slung her purse over her shoulder. “I swear, she thinks I’m public enemy number one.”
“It might help if you’d just sign her up at Madeline’s.” Given the selection of the tunes, they’d no doubt had yet another argument about dance class.
“And watch my kid turn into one of those spoiled prima donnas?” she scoffed as light footsteps sounded on the stairs behind me, then paused. “No way. It’s bad enough those insipid Rousseau girls turn this place into a circus with that competition every August, but the way the local girls get their hopes up like they have any chance of beating those trained brats who steal all their chances to get a scholarship at that stupid school is just . . .” Her spine stiffened. “Just, no.”
Here we go again.
“Juniper could be really good. You won’t know if you don’t give her a chance.” I ignored her jab at our little town’s most famous vacationers just like I always did, but pressure settled in my chest as I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. Only one of the Rousseau girls came back every August—Anne. Never Eva or . . . Allie, which was definitely for the best. A step creaked behind me, no doubt the third one that had always given me away as a kid. “And you’ve never complained about all the money those ballerinas bring into Haven Cove with that competition.”
The pressure transformed into an ache. How the fuck was it possible to still miss her like this after ten years? Her whiskey-colored eyes, the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, her smile—the real one, not the polished, fake shit she gave everyone else—the way she’d had the rare ability to really listen . . .
“Their parents’ money. And just be on my side here.” Caroline jabbed her finger at me and lifted her brows. “Between you and Gavin giving June everything she wants . . .” Her shoulders dipped and she sighed, the light hitting her face in a way that highlighted the deep-purple circles beneath her eyes. “I need someone on my side.”
“It’s our job as her uncles. You want someone on your side, call Mom and Dad.” I shrugged unapologetically. Had we both been overindulgent since Sean died and left Caroline a single mother? Sure. But did I regret it? Not one bit. I’d promised Sean on his deathbed I’d try to be the balance to Caroline’s anxiety about everything regarding Juniper so the kid would get to have a little fun, and I was keeping that vow, period.
“What’s in those?” Her head cocked to the side as she spied the grocery bags.
I reached into one and pulled out a bunch of bananas. “You’d better get going.”
“Five hours,” Caroline promised. “And thank you. Really, Hudson, I couldn’t do it without you.” She could, but refused the help Mom and Dad offered over and over. I kept my opinions on that to myself.
“I’ve got this.” I motioned to the door with my head, and Caroline walked out of it, the screen slamming closed behind her. Once I heard her car pull out of the gravel driveway, I turned toward the doorway to the living room. “You can come out now.”
“Uncle Hudson!” Juniper whipped around the post at the end of the staircase’s banister and ran into the kitchen, then threw herself at me in a tangle of gangly limbs and long brown hair.
“Hey, June-Bug.” I caught her easily and hugged her tight for a second before leveling what I hoped was a serious expression on her and setting her on her feet. “You fighting with your mom again?”
“She’s limiting my creative expression.” She shoved her hair out of her face. “What happened to your jaw?”
I gingerly touched the area she pointed to. “Someone hit me while I was rescuing them.”