Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
It took us about three hours to finish up. Sutt didn’t talk much, just answered my questions and directed me if he needed to, but we didn’t talk, not really. I miss you. I miss you so fuckin’ much. How did you miss someone who was right beside you? Who worked with you and lived with you? It didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Fuck, there was something wrong with me. I needed to get my shit sorted out, and I needed to do it now. “You wanna walk the job with the owner, or do you want me to do it?”
“I got it,” Sutton replied, then went to the door.
I packed up our things while he showed the homeowner what we did and made sure he was satisfied. Fifteen minutes later, we were in the truck, headed home.
My cell buzzed just before we pulled down the driveway, and I saw a text from my mom. I turned to Sutton. “I gotta run to the house real quick. I gotta help Mama get some stuff out of the attic. You gonna be here when I get back?” Kendra’s or Brian’s? Which would it be? He hardly hung out with our friends anymore, didn’t go to the bar or anywhere he might spend time with me.
“Yeah, I’ll be around for a bit still.”
A bit. No longer. It was Friday, so that meant he might be gone all weekend.
“Well, ain’t I lucky, then?” I said, my words sharp, like whatever it was that kept ripping up my heart.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothin’.”
I shoved out of the truck and slammed the door. I was being a jackass, but I didn’t much care. Stomping across the property to my parents’ house didn’t help, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from doing it.
“Hey, baby,” Mama greeted me. “Your dad twisted up his back some, and I don’t want him carrying boxes out of the attic.”
“I’m fine, Sherry,” Dad grumbled. “I’m not helpless.”
“No worries. I got it.” I pulled the door down from the ceiling, stairs sliding down, when Mama’s cell rang.
“It’s your aunt,” she said, picking it up. “Hello, I—”
Mama started pacing, which made me pause before stepping onto the ladder. Aunt Carrie had cut her off with something, and by the slack-jawed look on Mama’s face, I was scared something was wrong. Had she been drinking again? She’d been sober for months now. Was it Sammy? Had Emerson hurt him, or was—
“They caught him?” Mama said, and Dad frowned. She listened, then turned toward Dad. “That don’t change much. He left you, left the family.”
Clearly, she was talking about Sammy, but fuck that. He hadn’t left his mama. He deserved to live his own life. He’d dedicated the whole damn thing to her, and as for the family, I thought it was us who left him. Maybe I messaged from time to time, but that didn’t matter.
“I’m glad he’s happy, Carrie, I am. I just—”
She must have been cut off again. My legs felt a little wobbly as I waited for them to finish their conversation, wanting to know what was going on with Sammy. When she hung up, Mama looked at me, then Dad. “Apparently, they arrested the person who killed that man’s boyfriend.”
That man. Emerson was still that man. My gut burned uncomfortably.
“They got proof he didn’t do it. Carrie is hopin’ that means Sammy Joe will come back.”
“Don’t change nothin’,” Dad said, making the feeling inside me intensify, almost making me throw up. “Still don’t want him around here.”
I must have made a face because Mama asked me, “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong? Dad had said he didn’t want Sammy here, and we both knew exactly why that was.
“Nothin’,” I snapped.
“Don’t bite my head off, and where’s Sutton? How come he’s not here helpin’ you? He ain’t been around as much. Is he seein’ someone?”
Her attempt to change the subject from Sammy couldn’t have been a bigger misstep. I dropped my head back, closed my eyes, and tried not to sigh. Because of course she would ask me about the one thing I didn’t want to talk about. Of course she’d mention Sutton and seeing someone, how I was losing him, which left me empty, feeling like a shadow of myself. “I don’t know, Mama. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I would, but he’s not here.”
“Good,” Dad cut in. “He should be seein’ someone. It’s not natural, the two of you and how close you are. That’s not the way friends are supposed to be, and if you ain’t careful, people are gonna think you’re like your cousin.”
His words punched through my chest wall, fisted my heart and jerked it from my body. I tried to cover it, tried not to show I was freaking out, that I couldn’t breathe, that one question ran circles in my head. Would it be so bad if we were?