Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 9444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 47(@200wpm)___ 38(@250wpm)___ 31(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 9444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 47(@200wpm)___ 38(@250wpm)___ 31(@300wpm)
On my way back into the shop, Cora calls me.
“Hey, big brother. I’ll be home tomorrow. We need to talk about some stuff when I get there. Will you have time?” she asks. That's surprising as the semester just started last week.
“Let’s just talk now,” I say. I hate waiting and she damn well knows that.
“It’s better in person,” she says.
“Tell me now, Cora,” I demand. Now, I am pacing. The pacing keeps me calm.
“Fine. Fine. It’s nothing bad. When I get home, I am staying. I already put in a transfer to Georgia State and accepted it.”
“What? Why?” I ask, confused.
“New Jersey isn’t for me. I hate it here. I miss you. I miss my friends.” We moved to Savannah when she was thirteen after I got stationed at the airfield here. It feels more like home than Macon ever did.
“Okay. I understand, bug. I wish you would have discussed this with me first.”
“Isaac, you have to understand. I am not five years old anymore. I am a grown woman. I can make my own decisions. This is what’s best for me. I tried it and I didn’t like it and now I am coming home. My room better not be a gym or some shit,” she says, causing me to laugh.
“Of course, it isn’t. It’s still the funeral home you left.” The absence of light is her favorite color.
“Excellent. The number one reason I hate it here is that my dorm mate, Ella, has the whole thing decorated in various shades of pink. I wanna puke every time I open the door,” she says.
“I can imagine how hard that must be for you,” I say in mock seriousness.
“It is. I miss my room. It is so dark in there. Ella put up sheer pink curtains. What the hell is the point of that? It’s disgusting,” she tells me, going on and on about it. In the meantime, I am still pacing in front of the shop.
“I got to head into work now, bug. I’ll see you tomorrow. Drive safely.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I tell her before hanging up. I suppose I should feel some type of way about the fact that she switched from an Ivy League school to a state school, but she’s right. She’s an adult now and she’ll make decisions I don’t agree with, but truth be told, I’ve missed her. It’ll be good to have her home.
I leave as soon as I realize her place is in Brunswick. It’s over an hour away and I still need to shower.
Tonight, Abigail Hanson will be mine forever.
Mine to love forever.
Two
Abigail Hanson
First a tattoo and now my first date ever? I can just imagine what Mom and Dad would be thinking. Well, Mom for sure. Dad thinks whatever my mom tells him too. Growing up in Iowa, my parents were strict as hell, but now that I am out from under their restrictive thumbs, I get that they think they were just trying to protect me, but I needed to grow up. My mom was always putting me on a fad diet and my dad snuck me food whenever he could get away with it. It’s no wonder I have an unhealthy obsession with food. I never knew when I was going to get something other than the bare minimum. Their game plan was not thought out. I'll never get a husband, not with a body like that. She drilled it into my head every day, I absolutely started to believe it. I steered clear of men but steering clear of Isaac isn't an option though. I haven’t really spoken to them since I got here last year, and we all seem fine with that. As an only child, I am glad I didn’t leave a sibling behind in that toxic mess. I love them, but only away from them have I realized how fucked up they were.
After I finished my undergraduate courses while still in high school, I got out of Decorah, and that was the best thing that’s has happened to me so far. But that is quickly falling into second place. Meeting Isaac feels important. Very important. When his hands were on me, I thought I was going to combust. I was sweating and my pussy was so wet. I love the way he says my name, it’s low and growly. A little bit possessive even. He’s also the only person who calls me Abigail. Isaac Miller is going to be the death of me.
I’ve always been just Abby. Plain Jane, chubby, Abby, but he doesn’t see that or if he does, he’s too damn nice to tell me. For the first time, I feel like so much more than that when he looks at me. Back at my apartment, after begging off dinner with Mads and James, I rush around trying to find something to wear. Nothing is good enough. After a pretty substantial freak out, I choose a navy-blue sleeveless dress and a pair of coral flats, with a coral sweater. I hate it though. I look like a librarian, though to be fair I want to be a librarian.