Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“But I’m a child,” Jesse continues. “You can’t force a kid to work.”
A child?
“Dude, you’re six feet tall and growing a ’stache. You’re just immature. Luckily for you, they let bratty babies skin fish too. Walsh at the Wharf is an equal opportunity employer.”
“Whatever,” he mutters but starts to scoot off the bed.
He may be a giant thorn in Aaron’s and my sides most days, but he’s still loyal to us, especially Aaron. If it weren’t for Aaron putting his entire life on pause and going severely into debt to get us out of foster care when our parents died, Jesse would still be bouncing around from home to home. That year, when he was nine and I was eleven, we suffered both mentally and emotionally. There was only so much either of us could take, but thankfully, Aaron swooped in just in time to bring us all back together.
“Dress in layers, sweetie,” I taunt in a singsong voice just to annoy him. “Weather is being moody just like you.”
Satisfied that he’s up and going to get ready, I make my way into the kitchen. Aaron is wearing his Walsh at the Wharf royal blue polo with captain embroidered on one side of his chest, scrolling through his phone. I recognize the pinched frown of worry, but he smooths it away when he realizes I’m staring, forcing a smile instead.
“Everything okay?” I ask, making a point to glance at his phone.
“Peachy,” he assures me. “It’ll be good to get out of the bay and onto the open waters. Good for everyone. You working today?”
“Someone has to feed the corporate zombies.”
“Picking up orders in the Financial District?”
I nod as I rummage around the cabinets, looking for a package of Pop-Tarts. Once I locate the last Cherry pack, I rip it open and devour half a pastry in one bite. “The suits tip the best,” I say around a mouthful of sweet, cherry goodness, crumbs dusting the front of my black T-shirt. “Assholes but good tippers.”
“Anyone ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?” Aaron asks, shaking his head. “You’re an animal.”
“I’m pretty sure you failed at that job.”
He smirks at me. Despite all our ribbing, me and my brothers are tight. When our world was crumbling because of our unhinged parents, we had each other and it got us through to the other side. Life, despite Jesse being a mouthy delinquent and Aaron working his ass off to keep his company in the black, is pretty good.
Aaron’s phone buzzes, stealing his attention once again. When he starts rapid-fire texting, I know it’s with his newest girlfriend, Tabby. She’s my age and has major daddy issues. I have no idea why my brother can’t find a normal girl to date. They all turn out psychotic in the end.
“You two fight more than you get along,” I point out with a shrug. “Might be time to cut this one loose too. Maybe stop finding girls at Jesse’s school.”
He snorts. “She’s nineteen and in college, punk. Lay off.”
“And you’re pushing thirty, old man. Seriously, break up with her already.”
“I tried last week,” he mutters, “but she started crying. You know I can’t deal with tears.”
“She makes you miserable. Let me guess, she’s mad because you won’t have lunch with her again.”
Aaron gapes at me. “How do you know that?”
“She’s selfish and demanding. That would only be the fifteenth time she’s pissed at you for the very same thing.” I shrug as if this is common knowledge. “Maybe she could join you on your booking. Help wrangle Jesse.”
We both chuckle at that thought. Tabby has eyelash extensions and acrylics. It’s shocking she’s dating a fishing captain, but her actually stepping foot on his boat or even going near a gutted fish is a comical mental image.
“What about Jesse?” Jesse asks, stalking over to the empty Pop-Tart box. “Bruh. You ate the last cherry Pop-Tart.” He reaches for the last half of my pastry, but I shove it in my mouth before he can grab it.
“Tabby is gonna be your babysitter today,” I taunt, chomping around my words. “You’re going to have to make sure she has good lighting for her Instagram stories. The Angler-traz is gonna go viral.”
Jesse whirls around to Aaron. “Tabby is going? No way. I’m not getting on that boat with her. She’ll bitch the whole time!”
“You two should get along marvelously,” I toss out. “Two baby peas in a pod.”
This time both brothers flip me off at once.
“Tabby isn’t going,” Aaron huffs out. “Tyler is in a feisty mood this morning, so you’ll have to ignore him. You almost ready, Jess?”
Jesse chooses a different box of Pop-Tarts, settling for strawberry, even though no one in our home actually likes the strawberry flavor all that much. “Ready as I’ll ever be for forced child labor.”