Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
I shook my head, but I did it smiling.
Big mistake.
“Brian!” she squealed, jumping up and down while gripping my biceps.
Oliver’s head popped up from in front of the couch.
“What’s going on?”
Olivia’s followed.
“Yeah, what’s going on in there?”
“Nothin’,” I answered, stepping back and out of Jenna’s grip, then swatting at her hand when she reached for me again.
Jenna smiled up at me, baring white teeth ready to sink in for the kill.
“Uncle Brian has a girlfriend and he loves her.”
I glared at my sister.
She smiled bigger.
“Never said that,” I growled.
“You smiled,” she shot back arrogantly with a cock of her hip. “And I didn’t miss it.”
“Cool,” Oliver muttered before sliding down the couch and disappearing again, the game on the TV unpausing.
“Super cool!” Olivia yelled, with a grin matching her mother’s. “She pretty?”
Jenna was nodding like she fucking knew the answer to that question.
It was time for me to go.
“I’ll see you guys later,” I called out as I made for the door, hoping I wouldn’t upset Olivia for ignoring her.
“Brian, wait!” Jenna yelled behind my back. “You’re still babysitting for me next week, right? I have that date.”
“Yeah, Uncle Brian!” Olivia shouted. “We’re coming over to play, remember?”
“Yeah, Liv,” I said, looking back at her and then turning to give Jenna a smile. “’Bout time, too.”
She scrunched up her nose and made a face.
After waving and saying my good-byes, I got into my Jeep and drove home, where I called my girl the second I cut the engine.
With her in my ear, I smiled some more.
And I let her have it.
Chapter Ten
SYDNEY
My mother used to tell me not to get comfortable being happy.
She said this a lot after Barrett died. To herself and to me, although I think it was mostly to herself when she would sit on the couch and stare off at nothing.
Don’t get comfortable being happy, she would say. It’ll only hurt worse when it’s gone.
I didn’t understand the truth to her statement then. My twelve-year-old mind couldn’t understand it. I just sat there and squeezed her hand or pressed closer, wishing and praying she would get better soon and want to eat popsicles on the porch with me again.
Lime was my favorite. Hers was cherry.
I would’ve eaten cherry every day if it meant getting that back.
Now I realized what my mother meant twelve years ago. And just how true her statement was.
It was Thursday, and it was my day off this week.
I’d worked six straight days and would’ve worked seven, no problem, considering how much I loved my new job and the tips I was getting, the kick-ass, laid-back atmosphere, the cute little uniforms that were super comfy, the people I worked with, okay …everything.
I loved everything.
It felt more like hanging out with my closest friends than work on most days.
I was even starting to consider Stitch a friend now that we’d spent a lot of shifts together and I’d gotten used to his big bad bearded ways, which included him being silent 99 percent of the time while I gabbed about my life and about Brian, figuring he wouldn’t mention it to anyone since he never spoke unless really provoked, those times being few and far between and normally coinciding with something Shay did or said.
She was still all over that window and was always sharing with him.
He was still letting her share and listening like he did with me and the other girls, but appeared to be listening harder and taking more in when she spoke.
All hard looks and edge, drove a motorcycle, and smoked like a chimney on his breaks, fingers, hands, forearms, and I’m betting the rest of him covered in tattoos, plus the whole not speaking thing, which made him a tiny bit scary.
But twice now I’d seen him smile.
Not much of one. Barely a lip spasm behind his blanket of a beard, but it was there and both times appearing after Shay said or did something cute with her back to him.
Stitch had a soft spot, and Shay filled it. I was certain of that.
It felt good telling him about Brian. Telling anyone about Brian, when I wanted to tell everyone and everything, living or not, because if I was being honest, I had already confessed my secret to numerous objects around Tori’s house, and to just about every blade of grass surrounding Whitecaps when I’d step outside on my break.
Even confiding in a stupid blade of grass felt good.
But the one person I really wanted to tell, my best friend, my partner in crime, and the one person I didn’t keep anything from couldn’t know. I couldn’t tell Tori.
For a number of reasons.
I was scared she wouldn’t approve.
I was scared she’d tell me I shouldn’t be feeling the things I was feeling for Brian when I was still technically married to Marcus, and boy oh boy, was I feeling things.