Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I don’t have to worry, do I?” he asks suddenly.
I flinch, taken aback. “Worry?”
“While I’m in the shower.”
“I …” Oh. He means whether or not I’m going to steal everything in his house and take off running to the nearest pawn shop. “N-No, sir. I don’t plan to steal a damned—”
Huh? For fuck’s sake, with that “sir” thing again!
I blink away the annoying formality and fight back my blushing cheeks. “No. I’m not a—” Well, I can’t say I’m not a thief, now can I? That part’s been more or less proven as dead false. Everything I was wearing before my shower is something I stole. “I’m not a bad—” How can I claim to be a good person after what I’ve done? I sigh and settle on something more honest. “I … have nowhere else to go.”
He studies me a while longer. He says nothing.
I stare at the wooden trinket as it dances in the wind. “You’ve been nice to me. You gave me so much already. I’ve got no reason to take anything more from you.”
“You have every reason.”
I look back at him.
He sighs. “But … I’m gonna trust you anyway, Sunny. That’s something else I’m giving you … something that can’t be held in your hands, yet can easily be broken all the same. I’m giving you my trust.”
Something inside me gives.
The look in his eyes.
The pain and lonesomeness that seems to match mine.
The soul I know is hidden deep inside him.
And that’s when I decide to play my most closely-held card for the first time since I left home: “I-It’s Seany.”
He meets my eyes, confused. “Huh?”
“My name. My … real name.” I swallow hard, keeping my steady gaze on his. “My name’s Seany.”
His face softens as he looks me over, curious. He gives me a gentler nod. “Seany.” His jaw tightens. “I’ll be back in a minute … Seany.” Then he heads off to the bathroom. I listen as the door gently shuts, then the water turns on.
Chapter 6 - Cooper
I only wanted to give him my trust.
Then he gives me his trust right back, revealing his real name to me. That’s something I can damned well guarantee he hasn’t done in a very long time.
Seany.
Assuming that is his real name.
I’ll admit, despite the little mutual trust-giving, I take a much shorter shower than I usually do and dry off in record speed. After putting on some loose sweatpants and a tank, I come out of the bathroom to find Seany lying on the couch bed with the TV on, remote balanced on his stomach.
He glances my way, then sits up at once. The remote slides off his stomach and drops to the mattress.
“It’s okay, you can relax,” I assure him before heading to the fridge to pull out a beer. He watches me. “You want anything? Drink? Late-night snack?”
“No, I’m fine,” he says, still watching me like I might lash out at him with a weapon at any second.
That look of unrelenting caution in his eyes kills me. I wish I could put him at ease somehow. “If you change your mind …” I shut the fridge, crack open my beer, then take a sip. Some game show is on TV. “What’s this? Press Your Luck? Thought that oldie ended ages ago.”
“The streets of San Antonio were scary.”
His somber tone changes me. I set down my beer and come around the counter, forgetting it instantly. “Scary?”
“Couldn’t do the Riverwalk. Too many homeless. A guy with tons of tattoos was armed with a stolen Saltgrass steak knife defending his spot under the bridge like he owned it. I called him the Tatted Troll.” Seany lifts his arm and points at a jagged scar running across it in the shape of a warped boomerang. “Earned me this lovely keepsake. I learned that night just how fast my heart can beat without exploding in my chest.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Well, that’s not the worst.” He looks away. “Anyway, caught a ride on the bus and happened upon this place … Dreamwood Isle, thinking this would be paradise, but …” He shakes his head. “I guess my head’s still in the clouds. It’s what Dad always said. I’m full of childish dreams … all swimming around in my head. I needed to be realistic. I needed to have goals.”
I get the fast impression his dad isn’t a great man. He didn’t want to talk about him before. “Your dad …?”
“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”
Still a hot topic. I won’t pry further. “Dreamwood isn’t all that bad,” I tell him, shifting gears. “Maybe you … just caught us at a bad time. We’re pretty welcoming, actually.”
“Yeah, if you’re horny and got deep pockets.”
I shrug. “Well, it is a tourist spot. But that’s just half of it—the half most of us locals depend on to survive.”