Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Breezy stands too, moving toward the door with me as I go. “Maybe it’s Josie looking for Norah? She was doing okay when I left her yesterday, but damn, does that woman have some history with the fella you all tried to make her fake-marry.”
But when I open the door, it’s not Josie. It’s Sheriff Peeler, and his face looks as forlorn as I’ve ever seen it. “Bennett,” he greets before shifting his gaze to Breezy. “Ma’am.”
“What’s going on, Pete?” My stomach sinks with the feeling that he’s not here for a friendly chat.
“I think it’s best if you come down to the station, Ben. There’s quite a bit we need to talk about.”
“Rather not leave, Pete. Summer’s…” I shake my head and swallow. “I’d rather not leave.”
Pete’s face turns tortured. “I’m sorry, Ben. I really am. But…the part about you coming down to the station, well, it’s not really an option.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Breezy asks then, the angry, New York side of her coming out on my behalf. “Is my brother under arrest?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid he is. Seems someone in New York wasn’t satisfied without ruffling some more feathers.”
That motherfucker Thomas Conrad Michael King III. I knew he wasn’t going to stand there and piss into the wind.
Fuck.
“Can I go get dressed, at least?”
Pete frowns. “Sorry, Ben, really sorry. But I barely held ’em off from coming to your house with me. The sooner we get down there, the better.”
“Don’t say anything, Bennett,” Breezy commands, a finger in my face as I slip on the closest pair of shoes. “Not a damn thing. I’ll get our lawyer here on the next plane.”
What else can I do at this point?
“Take care of Summer and Norah,” I say as I walk over toward Pete. “Charlie’s still here, in the guest bedroom if you need her.”
Breezy nods. “Don’t worry, Ben. I’m going to take care of everything.”
For far from the first time in my life, I’m thankful for my big sister and her even bigger metaphorical balls.
Sheriff Peeler walks behind me to the cop car and puts me into the back seat, his gentle hand on the top of my head. He climbs inside and starts the car, and then, before we really get moving, tosses a set of handcuffs through the small hole in the cage between us.
“Just…put these on yourself when we get close. It’ll be easier if they don’t make a fuss.”
“Jesus, Pete, who the hell did that fucker get involved in this?”
Pete winces, and I sit back in the seat with a thud of disbelieving proportions. As we pull down the driveway, I look back just in time to see Norah rushing out the front door, my T-shirt the only thing on her body. Breezy holds her close with an arm around her shoulders, and for the second time since we met, I drive away in the back of a police car while she looks on.
The only difference is that this time, I know she’s worth the trouble.
Bennett
With my handcuffs locked in place in front of me, I make the walk from the parking lot of the sheriff’s department into the building with Pete’s hand on my shoulder. I don’t ponder and I don’t look around, instead using my time to figuratively stoke the fire now burning inside me.
I’d be pissed about all this shit on a good day, but today is not a good day. Summer’s time is dwindling by the minute, and Norah and I have hardly had a chance to breathe in the exchange of I love yous.
I want to be at my house, with my girls, making sure I’m doing everything in my power to make them feel loved.
But I’m not, and it’s all because of that motherfucker who dared to think he was good enough for someone like Norah Ellis.
Stomach hot and throat tight, I make my way through the main lobby of the station and around into the small bullpen with the sheriff, where I instantly recognize the back of Thomas Conrad Michael King III.
Black slacks and a finely pressed gray-check shirt camouflage his altogether slimy character, but I know what he is, and I know it well. The truth is, I used to be a version of him—rich, conceited, careless with other people and their well-being—but I’m not anymore. I left that man behind a long time ago, and these days, I wouldn’t even recognize those parts of myself.
A primly dressed woman with an overbearing but small stature stands next to him, her red-nail-tipped fingers draped over his shoulder proudly. There’s a commotion as they turn in excitement to see my march of shame, but when they finally get turned around, I understand who she is right away.
The similarity of looks is undeniable, even with the sour expression on her face. It’s Eleanor Ellis, Norah and Josie’s mother, and it’s a real mystery how two women as amazing as them came from something as snaky as her.