Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
I’d worked for the Miller family for a few months when I was in high school too. Bunch of cheapskate weirdos. “I remember the thrill of Miller’s. Is it still like working in your very own K-drama?”
“Nailed it.” She giggles. “Stacy moved Ben to a different department because she thought he was flirting with Sarah, but he really likes Becky.”
I only recognize one name in that story. “Shit, is Stacy still hitting on the front-end guys? She’s at least ten years older than me, and she was doing that stuff when I worked there.”
“Yup. It’s kinda sad and awkward. She’ll try to insert herself into our conversations and stuff. Like she’s one of us. She’s our manager but tries to act like she’s still in high school. God, that’s my worst nightmare. Thirty-five and still working there, trying fit in with the ‘cool kids.’”
“Oh, so you’re one of the cool kids?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. I just want to collect my paycheck and go. They’re all nothing but drama.” Her mouth twists down again. “I’ve had enough of that in my life.”
I hate that Molly’s never really been able to be a kid. She’s been working some sort of job since she was eleven or twelve. Babysitting, fast food, now the grocery store. She’s never complained—it’s just how it is.
“Enough about that dumb place,” Molly says. “How’s your mom doing since she moved back?” The sudden change in topic and her hesitant question twist my vocal cords into a knot. Molly’s witnessed my mother at her worst. Scenes I wish I could erase from both our memories.
“Worse than ever.” I exhale a slow, humorless laugh.
She lifts her chin, staring at me. The desire to understand shimmers in her blue eyes, encouraging me to continue.
“Every time I stop by her place, I’m afraid…” I can’t quite form the words.
Molly doesn’t laugh or crack a joke about me being scared of anything. She waits patiently, then finally prompts me for an answer. “Of what?”
Should I go down this road? She might think I’m an asshole for what I’m about to say.
“That I’ll find her dead,” I finally answer. “She’ll finally have overdosed. Or gotten a bad batch. I dread going to her place. But I’m always worried that if I don’t check on her…” I’m too ashamed to finish the thought.
Those are the most honest words I’ve spoken about my mother in years. To anyone.
“I’m sorry.” Molly brushes her fingertips against my cheek. “That must be so scary every time. Not knowing what you might walk in on.”
This is unfair to say when she lost her mother so young, but it eats at me late at night when I can’t sleep. “Sometimes, I’m almost…disappointed. In a way, it would be a relief.”
“Griff.” She curls her arm around me tighter and buries her face against my chest.
I hide my face in her mass of dark hair, inhaling her sweet cherry scent. “That’s sick and twisted, isn’t it?”
“No,” she says, so low I feel the word echo against my ribs. “All that fear and uncertainty has to wear you down. Numb you, after dealing with it for so long.” She hesitates and peers up at me. “And even if it’s hard to see it, she has to be suffering in a way too.”
“Yeah. The older I get, the more I understand that. When I was younger, I hated her for not being able to just say no. I wish I knew what to do to help her.”
“Addiction is powerful. And destructive.” Molly speaks with more wisdom than she should have on this topic at her age. “If she could snap her fingers and be cured, I’m sure she would.”
“Maybe that would be worse.” I shift my gaze over Molly’s shoulder. “She wasn’t exactly Mother of the Year before she got hooked.”
“That really sucks.” Molly pulls back to look at me and cups my cheek. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is to have you for a son.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I glance away. Shit, what if Molly worries I’ll turn into a junkie like my mother one day? “She’s taught me plenty about the kind of parent I don’t want to be. That’s for sure.”
She lets out a sad laugh. “Yeah, I think my dad’s done that for me and Remy too.”
“He’s always been a bastard,” I grumble. Just thinking of Mr. Holt and the way he treated his family pisses me off.
“I know. I remember him being…angry all the time. The fights he had with Remy…I was always scared something I’d do would set him off and Remy would take the brunt of it.” She swallows hard. “Not knowing what exactly would set off his temper always made me so nervous.”
“You couldn’t know because it wasn’t rational or based in reality.”