Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Once was enough,” I say quietly.
She nods her head in agreement, then suddenly slaps her legs with both hands. “I know what will make both of us feel better. Ice cream sundaes!”
She climbs quickly off the bed almost dumping over the bag of Cheetos. “Let’s go!”
Begrudgingly I follow because ice cream sounds pretty damn good right now.
We reach the kitchen, and I grab the ice cream out of the deep freezer while Emmalyn flits around and gathers the other supplies.
“Okay,” she says sweeping her hand over the products on the counter. “Chocolate sauce, hot fudge, caramel sauce, sprinkles, maraschino cherries. We also have bananas and that hard shell stuff.” She looks at me with a wide grin. “What do you want?”
I grin back at her, “All of it.”
Who says food can’t bring you happiness? Ice cream makes almost every situation better.
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I think you’re right!”
We grab bowls and spoons and begins to dish out more sweets than we’ll ever be able to eat, but we will give it every effort.
I’m damn near comatose by the time I give up on my bowl of chocolatey goodness. My stomach is killing me, and I’m certain I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight from the sugar I just consumed.
“Emmalyn?” I hear a familiar voice say from behind me. “Gypsy said you were looking for me. Something about a bookcase needing to be put together.”
I close my eyes slowly and try to calm the increase in my heart rate that I still get every time I hear him speak. It’s been days since I’ve heard his voice. Even mad, even with a broken heart, I still crave the sound.
“Oh yes!” Em says standing from the table. She gives me a light squeeze on my shoulder as she walks by. “The box is near the door. I couldn’t move it after FedEx dropped it off this morning.”
Her voice fades away as she leaves the room to show Kid what she needs. I sit quietly for a few minutes before standing up from the table. I carry both of our bowls to the sink and wash them. After drying my hands on a paper towel, Emmalyn still hasn’t returned to the kitchen.
I feel guilty about not watering the plants out front for the last couple of days. I know they’re probably dead beyond resuscitation, but I head in the direction anyways. There’s no telling where Em ran off to or if she even plans on coming back.
I can see Kid crouched down over pieces of wood with his back to me. He’s grumbling and turning a piece of wood different directions, clearly having trouble with the bookcase. Quietly, I try to make my way to the front door. I knew I should’ve never tried to sneak past a Marine. Just as I reach for the doorknob, I hear his voice.
“Where ya going?” he asks. I know he’s the only guy here which means, even though he doesn’t have all of his memory, he’s responsible for looking after us. We always have a male member here. Most of the time it’s Doc, but it looks like today that responsibility has shifted to Kid.
“To water the plants,” I answer without turning around.
“I took care of that earlier today,” he says.
I turn around and face him. “You what?”
“I watered them already,” he says standing and wiping his hands down the front of his pants.
“Thanks.” I begin to walk away.
“Khloe,” he says to my back. I love the way my name sounds on his lips, but with the happiness also comes the pain.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” he says as I turn back toward him. My head tells me to scurry back to my room as fast as I can, but my heart wants me to stay. I’m torn between the two.
I point toward the pile of wood and go for the safe topic of conversation. “That shelf giving you trouble?”
He looks over his shoulder and runs his hand over his now bare face. He looks so much younger now without the beard. I can easily see why he earned the road name he’s been given.
“Yeah it only has instructions in Chinese.”
He takes a step closer to me; I take a step back. The last thing I need is him in my space. I have no control over my ragged emotions, and I don’t know if I’ll hug him or claw his beautiful brown eyes out.
“Intelligence Not Expected,” I mutter, referring to our banter back and forth about the hierarchy of the different military branches.
“What did you just say?” He takes another step toward me and reaches out for me.
I see the second it happens. It’s almost as if the shutters have lifted from his eyes. I take a step even though I can see the recognition in his eyes.