Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Oops, I guess? Looks like you’ll have to sort this thing out like a big boy. Bye!”
She ends the call. I cringe because that conversation got me literally nowhere. Sure, I don’t see Asher and me breaking up over this, but is there going to be an argument? A fight? Even the possibility is making me feel sick to the gut. And the thing with Asher is he’s so good at creating walls and doing whatever it takes to avoid getting hurt that he’s a total wild card here.
Will a fight make him step back? We’ve never had one before, so I really don’t know.
Urg.
“Kole!”
I jerk around to find Emmett running up to me, a huge smile on his face.
He holds up his bandaged hand. “I got three stitches. It was so cool. They sewed me together. Ben is going to be so jealous if I end up with a scar.”
Nine-year-olds, I swear.
I high-five his good hand. “That was so brave of you.”
“I didn’t even cry!”
Even I know enough to not remind him of how uncontrollable he was before he got here. “Pretty sure that deserves dessert.”
His eyes light up, and he yells across the waiting area to Asher, who’s finishing up with the nurse at the desk. “Kole’s getting me dessert! Let’s go!”
When Asher’s finally done a few minutes later, he looks tired, and he doesn’t meet my eyes as he manages a quick “Thanks.” He’s still wearing that ugly sweater, but now it just feels like a naïve joke.
Asher loops an arm around his brother’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Even when he tries to joke about Emmett’s injury being a ploy to get out of eating dinner and going straight to dessert, the joke doesn’t ring true.
I lead them to the car, not wanting to bring my worries up again, especially while Asher is sticking close to Emmett’s side. That barrier is back up, and I can feel it like a solid presence between us, and since it’s so rarely directed at me, I can’t help feeling like I’m in trouble.
I want to make some flippant comment or a joke, but my brain has firmly switched to battle stations, man the defenses!
Asher’s too in his head, and he’s acting … distant. “West texted to say they’re all back at home now, so you can drop us off there.”
“But dessert,” Emmett whines.
“We’ll swing by my house first and bring dessert to everyone,” I say. “Mom always makes too much, and when she found out she had seven more people coming, she made enough for twenty more. You know, just in case.”
Asher manages a small smile in the rearview mirror.
What I’d wanted to be a perfect day for Asher and his family is probably going to go down as the worst.
Total boyfriend goals, right here.
At the very least, Emmett’s face when I run inside my place and bring out two full pies for him to take home perks my mood up a bit.
It’s dark by the time we get to their house, and the only light in the whole place is a dim one in the front living room. Emmett jumps out of the car and races ahead, but Asher lingers a little. Before he gets a chance to suggest I head home, I grab the pies, jump out of the car, and start across his snow-covered lawn without him.
“Someone’s in a hurry.”
“Dessert is an emergency. Duh.”
We climb the first few front stairs, and I brace myself for the usual chaos, but when Asher pushes open the door …
We’re met with silence.
I exchange a look with him. “You sure West said they were home?”
“Positive.” He heads down the hall, and I hurry to follow him into the living room.
What we find … I have to check we’re in the right place.
West and Bennett—and now Emmett—are on the couch under a blanket. Rhys is sitting on the floor beside them, and Hazel and Zoe are squashed into an armchair. They have a few candles lit, but nothing is on fire, no one is yelling, and even though Zoe’s eyes are all red, they look … happy.
“W-what’s all this?” Asher asks. His voice is so guarded I can’t help but step closer and wrap my arm around him.
“Are those for us?” Rhys asks, spotting the pies.
“Yep. Who wants apple pie?”
West stands. “I’ll go dish them out.”
“I’ll help.” Asher follows his brother into the kitchen, leaving me with the kids.
They’re all silent and … calm. It’s freaking me out.
I take out my phone and send Asher a text: I think your family has been taken over by pod people.
A short laugh comes from the kitchen. At least he still finds me funny.
Asher and Westly appear a few moments later with pie for everyone. They hand them out, and then Asher’s fingers linger on mine when he hands me a bowl. He nudges me to follow and sit next to him on the floor.