Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
The doorbell rings through the house, and I groan.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“One guess.” I reach over and flip on the surveillance system. It takes it a second to connect. “But I’m pretty sure that you’re so right that it’s not even a guess anymore.”
“What’s Banks doing?”
I rest my elbow on my desk and watch him on the front porch. He’s looking right up into the camera.
“You can’t do this to me, Jess. I know you’re in there,” he says, pointing at the video recorder.
“Oh, Banksy—I can and I am.”
“What does he want?” Pippa asks.
“On the surface, he wants to come in. Down deep, he wants to worm his way onto my couch, distract me, and take up all my time tonight. I just don’t have the time or energy to screw with him.”
He gets closer to the camera. “How do I know you haven’t fallen and hit your head, huh? What if you were shaving and you sliced the vein in your throat? I’m out here worrying about you. Just let me know you’re okay, man.”
Pippa laughs. “Oh, my gosh. He’s dramatic.”
“This is only the tip of the iceberg.”
“Fine. I hope you’re not bleeding out in there,” Banks shouts, so close to the device that all I can really see are the blurred insides of his nostrils. “Just remember, I was the one concerned. I was the brother who tried to check on you, but you locked your doors.”
“He really has boundary issues, doesn’t he?”
I tilt my head. “Can you call them boundary issues if he doesn’t acknowledge the boundary to begin with?”
“Good question. I don’t know.”
“Me either.”
He turns his back to the camera, pulls out his phone, presses it to his ear, and marches toward Mom’s.
I sigh. “It’s like he holds me captive in my own house.”
“You love him, and you know it.”
“Meh.”
I peek through the blinds until he disappears into our parents’ house.
Does he need a hobby? Therapy? A puppy?
That’s it. That’s the problem.
He is the puppy.
“Banks is like having a puppy, and it’s still potty training. It’s so much work and inconvenient. But you look at their little face, and you just hope it’s worth it.”
Pippa cackles. “That’s not nice.”
“No, but it’s true.” I stand and stretch my free arm over my head. “What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning?”
“I don’t know. It’ll take us two or two and a half hours, I think. Check-in is at four. So we could leave at two and be fine.”
“Cool. I’ll be there at eight.”
“Jess!” she says, laughing.
“What? My internal clock goes off at six. I’m used to sleeping with you now, so I’ll probably be up all night anyway.”
“I slept with you one night.”
I shrug. “So? You’re addictive.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I’d rather you be full of me.”
I can hear her smile. It’s enough to draw the corners of my lips to the ceiling.
She must turn on the sink because water running fills the background. Dishes clatter, a drawer rolls, and silverware being dropped into a dishwasher basket rings through the line.
“I saw Chuck at work today,” she says. “He was very non-Chuck-like. Nodded my way and kept on going.”
“Good.”
“Oh, also, I booked us a few things to do because I have to for work—that’s the point of it to begin with. But I left a lot of downtime for us to do what we want.”
“Is that an innuendo?” I ask, peering out the blinds again. Banks leaves Mom’s house with a box.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t forget to pack Vibe Jess.”
She laughs.
“I mean it,” I say, grinning. “I want to see what Vibe Jess can do.”
“He’s already in my bag.”
My eyes go wide as I nod appreciatively. Nice.
I start to nail down a time to pick her up when a car pulls in front of my house. Banks walks up to the side of it and chats with whoever is driving. The camera angle is too low to get a good view of what the car looks like but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I’ll call you back later, Pip.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I …” I pause as the door opens and feet hit the asphalt. And then the man and Banks make their way toward my walkway. “Someone is here with Banks.”
“He’s back?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s never really gone.”
The men get closer until, finally, I make out who it is with Banks. Skylar Schultz.
What the fuck? “I gotta go. I’ll call you right back.”
“Jess—”
I end the call, grimacing that I accidentally hung up on her but figuring I’ll make it up to her tomorrow in oral favors.
They ring the doorbell before I can reach the door. I tug it open to see Banks and his box standing beside Officer Schultz.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Banks gestures toward me. “Ah, man. He’s fine.”
“What the fuck is going on, Sparkles?”