Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
But that isn’t a possibility anymore, is it? Especially with her knowing all my family’s deepest, darkest secrets.
After licking my suddenly parched lips, I squash the phone to my ear and say, “Hey.”
It’s the same pathetic greeting I issued her when I wasn’t expecting to stumble onto her at my father’s residence but not as hinged with unease.
I wasn’t mad she was here. I was curious.
I avoid my family dynamic as much as possible, so why in the world would anyone voluntarily choose to be a part of it?
And don’t give me the same shit excuse McKayla and Trenton did earlier. He is being fitted for a prosthetic leg, but the chief medical officer at the NBA has that all covered. A nurse picks him up and takes him to every appointment.
I’ve also missed her like fuck the past month, but I can’t rid the image of her kissing Gabriel out of my head long enough to admit that to anyone but myself.
“Hey.”
McKayla gulps down air like she’s running, sending my panic skyrocketing. “Are you all right?”
The urge to go on a beatdown subsides when she replies, “Yeah… but I should probably consider taking up a sport of some kind. I barely ran thirty feet, and I’m exhausted.”
Her reply makes me smile, but I keep that to myself, forever a sore loser.
“Anyway…” She takes in another breath. “Your dad’s puzzle. Is it written down right?”
“I don’t know.” Since the phone is cordless and the base is in the basement, I return to the dark and dingy space before reading it out to McKayla.
“What?” I ask when she curses under her breath.
“They’re purposely leading him astray.” I don’t get the chance to ask who before she instructs, “Replace the third zero with an A.”
“An A?” When she murmurs in agreement, I cautiously approach my father. He doesn’t like when people interrupt him mid-formula. That’s why I was so surprised he gave McKayla his chalk last month. I usually use one of the pieces he snaps during his multiple outbursts.
“What are you doing? Leave it alone…” His voice trails off when my adjustment to the formula has his brain ticking over at a million miles an hour. Then, not long later, he murmurs, “Done.” After pivoting to face me, his eyes nowhere near as pained, he asks, “Juice?”
I wait for his stomps to sound above my head before shifting my focus back to the phone, “How did you know?”
“Gabriel—”
I can’t hear that name out of that mouth and not respond.
McKayla must hear the balling of my hands over the phone. “I wasn’t with him. Your mother asked for a ride. She wanted to go to campus.” I vow to be her personal trainer when she stops to take a breath. “She met with Gabriel. I think he’s feeding her the wrong formulas to trip your father up.”
“Why would she do that?” I understand Gabriel’s plight. He’ll do anything to make my life miserable, but why is my mother helping him? What does she get out of it?
The light in my head finally clicks on.
“Money. He gives her money.”
“Yep,” McKayla agrees, sounding as disappointed as me. “And add that to the funds you give her to get rid of her, and she has plenty to waste on…” She stops, aware it isn’t her place to remind me of my mother’s bad habits. “I’m sorry, Cash. I don’t like being the bearer of bad news. I just thought you should know.”
“I appreciate you reaching out.”
I don’t need to see her to know she’s smiling. I can feel it in my bones.
A second wave of disappointment fills me when McKayla says, “I need to go. I already stretched my welcome when I requested double whipped cream, so imagine the owner’s response when he finds out I cleared a mountain of cobwebs onto his desk so I could use his landline.”
This time, I don’t keep my smile from her. I chuckle down the line before saying, “Bet he wouldn’t be mad if you cleaned out the cobwebs between his legs.”
Even aware she’s no longer a virgin, I admire that she still holds some innocence when she murmurs, “Huh?”
When I hear a man accost her, I say, “I’ll save the anatomy talk for when you’re not being kicked out of Beanz.”
I picture McKayla’s gaped mouth when she murmurs, “That’s why he looked so familiar.” Her voice goes deadpan when she adds, “I’m still mad at him.”
“You’re not the only one.” When her silence announces her confusion, I confess, “He was the reason for the red welt on my neck. His aim is shit.”
“The red welt on your neck wasn’t a hickey?”
I sound as shocked as McKayla when I ask, “You thought it was a hickey?” I picture her nodding when a whoosh sounds down the line. “But you still came to check on me?”