Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
There was no argument from my sassy two-year-old.
I changed her diaper and threw the messy one into the full diaper pail while holding my breath. I wasn’t sure why, but I was getting even less done around the house than when I’d been working full time. Everything was messy, the diapers needed to be washed, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t had a shower in three days.
“Auntie Wanna?” Etta asked as I carried her into the kitchen.
“I’m not sure where Auntie Ranna is,” I replied, forcing myself to keep it cheerful. “Maybe she went to the store.”
I was getting Etta some cereal when my phone rang. I answered it before it could ring again.
“Hello?”
“Don’t freak out,” Olly said, not even bothering with a greeting.
“Why would I freak out?” I asked slowly, glancing over my shoulder at Etta. She was watching me, her mouth slightly parted and her thumb stuck in her cheek.
“Got a call from Frank this morning—”
I knew what he was going to say before he’d even finished his sentence, but I could still barely believe it.
“He said he wasn’t comin’ in this week ’cause he was takin’ a trip up the coast.”
“Son of a bitch,” I murmured, staring at the sink full of messy dishes. “Miranda’s with him, isn’t she?”
“That’s what he said,” Olly replied. “I figured you didn’t know, since your pops hadn’t mentioned it.”
“Nope,” I said, smiling at Etta as I passed her on my way out of the kitchen. As soon as I made it far enough down the hallway, I continued. “She left without a fucking word.”
“Well, at least you know she’s with Frank.”
“That doesn’t exactly fill me with comfort,” I snapped back.
I trusted Frank with my life. He was practically family, and I knew he’d never intentionally let anything happen to Miranda. However, their story was a fucking shit show, and I couldn’t think of anything worse for her at the moment than to be snuggled up on the back of his bike for days.
“He’ll take care of her,” Olly said.
“Oh, yeah,” I spit back sarcastically. “I’m sure he will.”
Olly laughed. “Calm down, mama bear,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
He didn’t have any idea what had happened to Miranda in Oregon. None of our extended family did. It was how she’d wanted it, so my dad and I had respected her decision. I was regretting that now.
“I gotta go,” I replied, not bothering to argue with him. “If you talk to Frances, tell him to call me.”
“I’ll make sure to let him know you called him Frances, too.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I mumbled back before hanging up the phone.
I debated calling my dad while I gave Etta her breakfast, but decided against it. The longer I thought about it the less I wanted to throttle my sister and Frank. She’d had something bad happen to her, but if I took a step back and looked at it from the outside, I really didn’t have any say in what she did or who she chose to spend her time with. She was an adult.
While I knew that emotionally she was setting herself up for a fall, I also knew that physically she would be okay with Frank. I’d have to be okay with that, even if I hated it. I just really hoped that when she got back from whatever the hell they were doing, she wasn’t worse off than when she left.
Sometimes my family was completely exhausting. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with more people than just my dad and sister. How did people with big families do it?
I drank lukewarm coffee while Etta finished her breakfast, and went about cleaning up the kitchen. I hoped a clean house would help soften the blow when my dad came home to find his youngest had flown the coop.
* * *
Two hours later, I was sweaty, dirty, and had something sticky in my hair when the doorbell rang. Etta and I had been cleaning the house and dancing to Disney music since she’d finished breakfast, and she didn’t look any better. I was pretty sure the sticky substance in our hair was the aftermath of a bag of fruit snacks we’d shared after cleaning the floors.
“Why would someone bother us?” I asked Etta, throwing my hands in the air. “We’re busy!”
“Busy!” she yelled back in annoyance, drool dripping down her bare chest. At some point I’d stripped her down and she was in nothing but a leopard-print diaper and a pair of princess slippers. I was biased, but still pretty sure she was the cutest kid in the universe.
“We need to send them away,” I said, still using an overly exasperated voice as I climbed off the floor.
“Can I help you?” I asked with a flourish as I swung open the door. My jaw dropped when I saw Trevor standing on the front stoop, a stuffed animal and some flowers in his hands. “Oh, shit.”