Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“It’s fine.” I look up at him. “Gianna won’t mind, and it’s not like we’ll all be staying at her house.” Not that staying with her is ever an option. Every time I visit them, I either get a hotel or rent a house nearby. The two-bedroom house she and her husband live in is small, and their spare room is her husband’s office. They have plans to build a house someday on the ten acres they own, but with the animals they’re constantly rescuing, most of the money they bring in is put toward their care.
“We can plan a trip another time,” Clay says softly, and I shake my head.
“Seriously, it’s okay. Gianna works with her husband, who is a traveling vet, so even when I’m there, I spend a lot of time on my own. She won’t mind.”
Also, Gianna and I don’t have the bond Miles does with each of them. Our relationship is one we both have to constantly put effort into; otherwise, we won’t speak to nor see each other, and that doesn’t change when I’m visiting. It’s never been effortless, like my relationship with Miranda, which sucks, because she is my sister, and I wish we were closer. We just aren’t.
“Are you sure?” Dayton asks.
“Yes, and you guys will love the area. There’s a ton to do, and everything is in walking distance—even the beach.” I look at Tucker. “Kingston loves it.”
“He told me.” His smile is soft. “He said your sister has a farm?”
“Not quite.” I laugh. “She and her husband have an animal rescue, so they have lots of random critters around, including a opossum that lives in the house with them.”
“A opossum?” Dayton frowns.
“Speed-bump.” I smile at the look on his face. I probably had the same expression when Gianna told me about her new pet a year ago. “She’s my sister’s baby. Gianna’s had her since she was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She’s sweet.” I glance toward the couch, then look up at Miles. “Winter is going to want to bring her home with us.”
“We’re not getting any more animals, and we are definitely not getting a opossum.”
“We’ll see,” I mutter, listening to the guys laugh as I take my sandwich with me over to the couch.
As I eat, I absently listen to Miles and Tucker go over the case they’re working with Clay and Dayton, but I try not to pay too much attention as they talk. After seeing the crime scene photos of those two girls a couple of nights ago, I can honestly say I’m glad Miles doesn’t share his job with me.
It’s not that I wouldn’t be there for him if he needed to vent; it’s just there are some things I’d rather be ignorant of. Because this world is already scary enough without knowing exactly how scary it actually is.
CHAPTER 34
miles
Sitting at the island, I watch Win stand on the coffee table and sing “Let It Go” at the top of her lungs. The blue, sparkly dress she put on about twenty minutes ago swings around her as she spins, with one hand holding onto the crown on her head.
When the door opens, I watch Emma step inside and stop with a look of disbelief on her face. Yesterday around this time, Win was still lying on the couch—no fever but totally out of it. This morning, she was asleep when Emma left for work. And now… well, now, Winter’s putting on a concert in the living room. She woke up a little congested, but she hasn’t had to take any more Tylenol.
The song comes to an end, and Emma looks over to where I’m now standing, her lips still parted in disbelief, and I grin.
“You’re home!” Win cries like she hasn’t seen Emma in a month, then jumps off the coffee table and runs across the room to give her a hug.
“You feel better, I see.” She smiles at her, touching her cheek.
“I think I’m still sick.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” She falls to the ground dramatically, and Emma looks down at her. “I’m so hot.” Dolly takes full advantage and starts licking her face.
“And I’m sure—” Emma laughs, turning to hang her bag on the hook next to the door. “—you being hot has nothing to do with the dancing or the singing.”
“I don’t think so.” She takes Emma’s hand when she offers to help her up. “Maybe I have a fever.”
“We can check it and see.”
“I’ll check it.” Win skips to the kitchen ahead of her, going to where I have the thermometer on the counter just in case.
As she turns it on to take her temp, Emma closes the distance between us. “She’s feeling better.”
“Told you.” I smile, then lean down to press my lips to hers. “How was work?”