Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The cabin is a one-story log, and as soon as we walk in, it loses the weathered gray appearance from outside and is all golden, soft amber woods everywhere, from the floor to the ceiling to the log walls. There is cheerful art, pictures of boats and lakefront scenes, braided area rugs, and comfy pleather furniture in the living room. It’s separated from the kitchen by a short wall, so I can’t make any of it out. The bedrooms are probably hiding around the other corner. I hope this place has a bathroom and not an outhouse outside. That would be really inconvenient if this pain in my head gets any worse. And also extra disgusting.
“Just stay here for a second.” Darby hisses, holding up a hand. I’m keenly aware of Nate just ahead of me, giving me the—hurt my sister, dweeb, and I’ll pound you so far into the ground that you’ll be way more than six feet under—eyes.
I have no choice but to stand and stay. Like a dog. A dog named Lord Poo.
I can hear Darby talking to her grandparents in the kitchen, even if I can’t see them.
“Darby! You’re here!” Her grandma sounds as sweet as can be, and I imagine a tiny old lady with a head of fuzzy white curls and an adorable smile.
“I’m here.”
“This is a surprise.” That’s her grandpa. He has a deep, grandfatherly sort of voice. It’s nice. Doesn’t make my head hurt.
“It is.”
“Now that you’re here, we can play a game!” That sweet-old-lady voice just rose at least twelve octaves.
“Definitely.”
“How about the one with the big dice?”
“It’s dark outside,” Darby counters softly. She’s so happy to be here that it’s evident in her every word.
“Hmm. Lawn bowling?”
“Still dark.”
“We could do it inside?” her grandpa suggests.
“How about I help you finish the puzzle?”
Someone must have been able to see me when I wasn’t looking because her grandpa said, “She brought a friend,” in the curious way that one might say she brought in a strange mushroom from the woods and then ask if they could identify it in one of the books. Am I a good-to-eat mushroom, or am I a kill you slowly because you thought I was safe and the book said I was safe, damnit, type?
“What kind of a friend?” her grandma squeals.
“Just a friend,” Darby sighs.
“A friend sounds like a nookie.” That’s said in the sweetest voice but with a little bit of grandmotherly accusation thrown in.
“Nookie? Oh my god, Grandma, no! Not that kind of friend,” Darby yelps plaintively.
Nate gives me one last withering stare and enters the kitchen. That’s probably his cue to stir up all sorts of trouble because he doesn’t like me and enjoys ribbing his sister like any good big brother. “It’s her boss,” I hear him say. Two shocked gasps follow, but I’m not sure who they’re from. It could be Darby bracing for whatever mischief her brother sees fit to wreak. “They’re having a working holiday.” I also imagine that the word working is in air quotes.
“Your boss?” her grandpa gasps. “The asshole who never lets you have time off?”
“Oh my god,” Darby groans. “I’m not going over this again. Time off isn’t for new hires. It was an HR decision, not his. He had nothing to do with it.”
“I beg to differ,” Nate argues, the smug asshole. “He runs the place. He could have stepped in.”
Darby growls. “Don’t be silly. I’m not asking for special treatment. Anyway, I’m getting my holiday this way, so I’m all good.”
“Do I need to castrate him?” That’s cheerfully asked by her grandpa. “I know a good filleting knife that I haven’t sharpened for the past few years. It’s nice and dull and rusty. It will hurt more that way.”
Darby gasps while her brother laughs. “Grandpa, no! I’m fine.” I can practically hear her staring daggers of blazing death at her brother.
I can’t help it. I revert back to my old self, cursing under my breath in Gaelic before I can keep it in. You eejit, thinking this was going to work. Great. I’m beating myself up doubly now. Darby is back in the room, biting down guiltily on her bottom lip like she thinks I’m going to hold that castration comment against her.
“I can show you where the bedroom is.”
My head, with the squishy, painful, soggy brain, thanks her immediately while my body just lets out a grunt that passes for gratitude.
Darby confirms my thoughts about that hallway by quickly ducking through with the bags. I follow her before her grandparents can look our way. I wonder how many minutes it will be before we’re “grandparented” to death.
Probably only one minute.
I don’t know if I can make it that long.
The pain is starting to roll from my brain to the rest of my face until my jaw, neck, and shoulders are tight with it. It’ll settle into my stomach next. I need a glass of water and a cool, dark room, but the cabin is anything but cool. It’s been baking all day in the hot summer sun. The logs retain the heat, and it’s basically a sauna in here. It could be dark, though. That would be such a welcome reprieve.