Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
After locking up the house, I got on my bike and took off.
I wanted to see her face when I told her.
I parked my bike in the spot beside Shayla’s car, cut the engine, and swung off.
I was shaking now for another reason entirely. It was shock. I couldn’t fucking believe how that all had gone down.
Jumping the three steps to the basement level, I got to the door and knocked with a heavy fist.
The door swung open not a minute later, and Shayla stood there, still wearing her work uniform and smiling at me around the fork hanging out of her mouth.
She pulled it out to question, “Hey! How’d it go?”
“Good.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded and stepped forward, backing her inside and stopping beside her. I put my hand on the side of her neck, squeezed gently, and pressed my mouth to her hair.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Real good.”
I breathed her in. Honey. Fuck, I like that.
Shayla was still and silent for a breath, then she made a soft, squeaking sound, turned to face me, and wrapped her arms tight around my middle. “That’s so good, Sean. I’m so, so happy for you,” she said, chin on my chest, beaming up at me. “We should celebrate.”
I had an idea in mind for that, but before I could suggest it, Shayla pulled away from me to shut the door, then took hold of my hand and tugged me in the direction of the kitchen.
“Come on. I’m eating dinner. Sit with me and we can talk.” She released my hand when we reached the table.
I took a seat across from the plate of food she’d been working on—chicken, brown rice, and vegetables—while she stepped inside the kitchen and opened the fridge.
“What do you want to drink?” she asked.
“Whatever. Coke is fine.”
“I have beer.”
“Don’t drink. Coke or whatever else you got is fine.”
Her head popped out of the kitchen, and she studied me. “How come I don’t know that about you?”
I shrugged. “You ever seen me drink?”
“No, but…huh.” She quit studying me, grabbed something out of the fridge, then emerged out of the kitchen and sat a Coke down in front of me. She took her seat. “So, how come you don’t drink?” she asked, forking a bite of chicken and eating it.
I cracked the can open. “Mom drank. Did other stuff too. I never had the urge to try anything she ever touched. Not after seeing what all it did to her.”
“You’ve never done anything before? You never had a drink or smoked weed? Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Wow. That’s seriously cool of you.”
I took a sip of my Coke and watched her above the can.
Her hair had those braids in it I liked—two in the front, both tucked behind her ears—and the rest of it was in soft waves that stopped just below her chin.
“Sean, do you want to tell me about your mom?”
“Nope.” I licked my lips. “I had a good fuckin’ day, and she ain’t touchin’ it.”
Shayla’s eyes got soft, then she smiled and forked some rice. “Tell me all about it. Tell me everything. Oh, wait.” She pointed at her plate. “Do you want something to eat?”
I wasn’t hungry, but since she was offering, I snagged her fork—ignoring her quiet little protest—and got a bite of chicken mixed up with the rice and some vegetables. Chewing it, I sat back after setting the fork on the plate.
“You make this?” I asked, keeping disgust from my face as I swallowed.
“Uh, no Lean Cuisine made it.” She blushed a little. “I just like putting it on a plate and pretending I cooked it.”
“Don’t. That shit is awful.”
Shayla laughed, holding her hands up. “Well, excuse me. I didn’t have some professional cook over here making me dinner. I had to make do.” She forked another bite and popped it in her mouth, smiling.
“You want me to cook for you?”
I didn’t know if she was just saying that or if she meant it. She never asked me to before.
Shayla paused in her chewing. “Are you serious?” she asked. “Um, yes. That would be amazing.”
“Say when, and I’ll do it.”
“When!”
I chuckled.
Shayla laughed at herself, then ate a carrot, which I knew did not taste like a fucking carrot. “Just kidding. You are only allowed to sit there and tell me all about your girls and how happy they were to see you. Did they love the house?”
I nodded.
“Did they give one…fucking…shit about anything you were worrying about?”
I stared at her. She stared back, getting extreme with it and leaning over her plate. Smiling, I shook my head.
“See? I told you so.” She bobbed her head from side to side in victory. “Now, tell me everything, from the beginning. From the moment you saw them and they saw you.”
I leaned back in my seat and stretched my legs, getting comfortable. Then I recounted everything, from the beginning, sharing with her what I was now regretting she hadn’t witnessed for herself, firsthand.