Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Chapter 13
Lea
“Hello?” I answer the house phone as I set down the box I brought down from the attic on the kitchen table, opening it up.
“Is Lea Lamb available?” a woman asks, sounding like she has a cold.
“This is she.”
“Hi, Lea, my name is Elza. I work for Douglas Pulaski, your mother’s attorney,” she says and I frown. My mom never told me she had an attorney, but there was a trend with my mom; she seemed to have kept a lot from me.
“How can I help you?”
“Mr. Douglas is out of town for the next month, and he left your mom’s will with me. Unfortunately, I’ve had pneumonia and haven’t been able to deliver it to you.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m not sure when I will be able to deliver it. If you need me to, I can mail it off, but there are a few things I’m supposed to go over with you,” she explains blowing her nose.
“Is there anything crucial in the documents?” I ask, feeling bad for her.
“No, nothing like that. Mainly it’s just stuff having to do with the house and a few of your mom’s account.”
“So it can wait. Just let me know when you’re feeling better and we’ll talk then,” I concede.
“Thank you for understanding, and I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mom was an amazing woman.”
“Thank you,” I mutter, still unsure what to say when people offer their condolences.
“We’ll talk soon,” she says, hanging up.
Putting the phone on the table, I open the box marked Lea’s Room. A picture of Austin and me from when we were seventeen sits on top in a dark blue wooden frame. Running my fingers over the image, I remember when it was taken.
Austin and I had spent the day out salmon fishing and bear watching. When we got home, my mom came out on the front porch and snapped this picture of us, because she thought it was cute we were dressed almost alike, in jeans, hoodies, beanies on our heads, and boots on our feet.
In the picture, you can see how much we loved each other, can actually feel it. Our fronts are pressed together, his stomach to my chest, my head is tilted back with my chin resting against his chest, and my arms around his waist. His head is bent towards mine, his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, and even in profile, I can see the admiration he had for me then.
Setting the photo aside, I pull the next item out of the box, putting it next to the photo, then pull out what I had been looking for to begin with. My mom had given me a locket when I was thirteen, and I left it behind when I left home. Opening it up, there is a picture of my mom and dad, with their cheeks pressed together. It was taken the day they found out they were pregnant with me.
“Baby!” Austin yells, startling me as he walks into the kitchen. “Why the fuck is the door unlocked?”
“I thought you were going to be gone until tomorrow?” I ask instead.
“Why isn’t the door locked?” he repeats, ignoring my question.
“Because this is Cordova and I forgot about it,” I say as his arms wrap around me and he lifts me off my feet.
“I don’t care. Make sure that you lock the door when you’re home alone.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I thought you were going to be gone until tomorrow,” I reiterate placing my hands on his shoulders.
“I was, but I met my quota early, so I unloaded and came over here to pick you up and take you home,” he says, dropping his mouth down to mine and stealing my breath. “I missed you.”
“We saw each other this morning,” I remind him, smiling.
“I miss you, even when you’re in the next room.”
My heart starts to pound harder in my chest; I’m in love with him. I’m in love with him and have no idea how it happened. It snuck up on me suddenly, or maybe it was that I never stopped loving him, and the love I held for him all these years came back, knocking me on my ass. I never even stood a chance.
“What?” He frowns, and I realize I just said that out loud.
Crap.
“I need to get new pants,” I say, and his face becomes even more confused, while my face turns red.
“You need to get new pants,” he repeats, lifting me higher until my legs wrap around him.
“For sure.” I nod and try to get down, but his arms hold me tighter.
“I like these pants.”
“I’m not wearing any,” I say, because I’m not. I have on a t-shirt and panties. I was getting ready to go to bed.
“You’re wearing my favorite socks.”
“You hate these socks.”
“No, I told you I wanted to fuck you in them and nothing else,” he growls, walking to the wall and pressing my back to it while pulling my shirt up over my head before proceeding to show me just how much he loves my socks—or me in nothing but the socks—while he’s inside of me.