Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I wake the next morning with a grin plastered across my face. I haven’t been able to stop smiling since Kingsley dropped me off yesterday evening. We kissed for a solid thirty minutes in the front seat of his SUV. It was difficult to drag myself away from him.
We made plans to spend the entire day together and I can’t wait.
With a squeal of excitement, I toss back the covers and hop out of bed. Even though Kingsley won’t be here until ten, there’s no way I’ll be able to fall back to sleep again. If this were a Disney movie, birds would chirp on my windowsill and I’d be holding giddy convos with mice about what I’m going to wear on my date. Since that’s not the case, I dig through my suitcase to find a pink-striped bikini before changing. Then I throw on a coverup and float down to the kitchen to grab breakfast.
As if I could eat a bite...
I stumble to a halt at the sight that greets me. Mom is racing around, stuffing everything we brought with us for the week into bags. Dad is on the phone in the adjoining family room, pacing back and forth in front of the windows.
“Mom?” My gaze darts between them as a sinking sensation fills my belly. “What’s going on?”
This is not normal parental behavior. Yesterday, I came down to them sitting on the weathered deck, staring at the waves as they rolled toward shore, sipping their coffee, and looking less stressed than they had in a long time. It was nice to see. This kind of manic behavior resembles the crazy mornings in Chicago with Mom attempting to hustle us out the door so we aren’t late for school and she can make her eight o’clock morning meeting on time.
Another bad sign—her face is pale and drawn. The lines on her forehead are more pronounced than yesterday.
Mom doesn’t spare me a glance as she gathers up clothes, shoes, and books. “Your grandmother died this morning.”
“Grandma Rose?” My face scrunches as the question falls from my lips. Considering that my mother’s parents died years ago, it’s the only viable option.
“Yes.”
My gaze slides to my father before bouncing back to her.
This will sound terrible, but we don’t have a relationship with Grandma Rose. She and my father had a falling out years ago before my brother and I were born, so she’s never been a part of our lives. I’ve seen her a handful of times and honestly, from what I remember, she was kind of scary.
I wait for a bolt of grief to strike me, but it never materializes. Death, no matter who it happens to, is sad. But even so, that doesn’t explain what she’s doing. “Why are you packing everything up?”
Mom straightens before swinging around to face me. “Because we have to leave.” She glances at the clock on the microwave before huffing out a breath. “We need to be on the road in thirty minutes.” There’s a pause and I can almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she mentally ticks off the tasks that need to be accomplished before we go. “Can you do me a favor and make sure your brother is awake? You both need to get packed up and then bring your bags down so your father can load them into the car.”
“Leave? But why? We didn’t even know Grandma Rose.”
Shitty as it may sound, the words pop from my mouth before I can swallow them back down. Doesn’t Mom understand that I met the most amazing guy yesterday and am nowhere near ready to say goodbye?
Her brows jerk together as she blinks in surprise. “Because your grandmother died, Summer, and now your father needs to plan a funeral.” Her fingers flutter to her temples as she carefully massages the sides of her head before sucking in a breath, holding it for a heartbeat and then releasing it. “I realize you were looking forward to spending time at the beach and I’m sorry our vacation will be cut short but there’s nothing we can do about it. We have to go back.”
I bite my lip, hating myself for sounding like such a selfish brat. That’s not who I am. Well, not normally. Before she can say anything more, I blurt, “It’s all right, Mom. I’ll make sure Austin gets out of bed and packed up.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” She throws a grateful smile over her shoulder as she moves into the family room.
All the giddiness pounding through me moments ago seems like a distant memory as I trudge up the staircase and knock on my brother’s bedroom door. “Aus?”
Nothing.
Ever since arriving on Saturday, Austin hasn’t been crawling out of bed until ten o’clock, at the earliest. Back home, he’s up with the sun before leaving for practice. My brother lives for football. It’s his drug of choice. He’s been playing on the high school varsity team since he was a freshman. It’s probably the only reason he’s excited about school starting in September.