Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Then I’d socialized with Hollis and talked with her about being a mom to the cutest toddler in the world, Dalia. Then I’d been insanely jealous when Hollis had been picked up like she weighed nothing and tossed over her husband, Quincy’s, shoulder.
I’d also learned that Quincy, Quaid, and Quinn were triplets. I mean, it’d been obvious once Ellodie and Shayne had pointed it out, and I’d felt kind of dumb. Then Shayne had shocked me even more when she told me not only had Garnett had a set of triplets and twins—Auden and Atlas I’d known about—but she’d also had Ande and Addison, as well as Gable and Garrett.
My heart had ached all over again when they told me about how Addison had died a few years back from suicide.
It’d broken my heart for the entire family, and I’d felt like utter shit for even bringing up the missing sister.
Luckily, I’d done it in the presence of the female spouses and not any of the brothers. Shayne had shared that they were all still very broken up about it and didn’t think that they would ever stop.
I didn’t blame them.
The death of Addison was quite different from my stepmother’s.
Though, that was what my stepmother’s death was. A suicide. In the grand scheme of things.
Even worse, the car that she could’ve avoided, who’d also run their own red light, must live with the consequences of this crash for the rest of her life.
It also got me to remembering Dorsey, and Dorsey’s phone that my stepmother had.
I pulled my phone out and messaged my sister, flabbergasted that I hadn’t thought to contact her about it all until now.
When I reached for my phone, I saw I had over thirty messages from my sister on Messenger.
“Shit,” I said as I read them all.
They started out pretty tame, then ended with Dorsey saying she was going to start heading back to Dallas if I didn’t answer soon.
I quickly typed out a message, telling her everything that had happened from the moment my stepmother had called on her phone.
It took her a solid ten minutes to read and respond, and when she did, I burst out laughing.
Dorsey:
Is it bad that I don’t give a fuck?
Me:
I don’t think so, no. I hate to be this person, but she died right next to me, and the worst thing I could think of was that I’d have to deal with Chief Austin.
I’d probably never forget how Vickie looked after she’d died. I didn’t think that you could ever get over seeing someone stuck halfway out of a windshield, bloody and broken.
But the fact that it was my stepmother didn’t really change much for me.
Sure, I felt bad.
Who wouldn’t?
But Vickie and I hadn’t been close. Her lack of caring about how we were treated, as well as her indifference to anything but her work, was enough to stop me from caring about her a long time ago. At this point all she was was an acquaintance.
Dorsey:
Okay, I won’t come home. And I’m glad, because the drive here was fucking awful. It was balls to taint traffic the entire way from the moment I entered Tennessee. I felt like I was driving on 635, but on a two-lane road, the entire way. Ugh. Love you, Mave. Let me know how the funeral goes.
Me:
You’re not coming home for the funeral?
Dorsey:
Absolutely not. I don’t want to see Scott or Chief Austin.
I just shook my head.
Me:
I don’t know that I’m going to go either. Would it be the expected thing to do? Yes. Do I care at this point? Absolutely not.
Dorsey:
Good. It’s time we take care of ourselves. Guess Mom was right. Time to get my own phone plan.
I choked on my own spit.
Me:
Night, Dorse. Love you.
Dorsey:
Love you, too. Also, just sayin’, but it’s seventy degrees here right now.
I choked.
Me:
What?!
That bitch.
It was a hundred damn degrees, and it was damn twelve-thirty in the morning.
After signing off with Dorsey, I texted Athena to see if she was awake, but she didn’t answer.
Which left me to my own thoughts about the man who was sleeping just feet away.
The man who made me burn and had been doing it since I’d met him the first time he came into my bakery.
I got up and started pacing. After the fourth down and back, I decided to brave the kitchen.
The only thing that would make this better was if I had either the man himself, or a Danish.
Since the man wasn’t a possibility right now, I chose to take the Danish.
Opening my door as quietly as possible, I snuck down the hall to the kitchen, once again admiring the house.
Auden had landed somewhere between rustic farmhouse and simply modern.
The kitchen was bright and airy, had top-of-the-line appliances, but also boasted the best farmhouse sink I’d ever seen, a great big butcher block island in the center of the room that would be perfect to bake on, and a roof line that was glorious.