Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“The one from the garage sale last summer?”
“Oh, don’t play coy,” I shot back. “You know exactly which one.”
“Fine,” she said, tugging me along. “But if he calls, I get your vintage lace-up Docs.”
“That’s not an even bet!”
Mom hummed as we made our way through the house. “Okay, then the vintage Pendleton flannel. The blue one.”
“Fine.”
“Easiest thrift I’ve ever had,” she joked. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. There’s nothing in here I need. I want to search for those jadeite dishes. I got the cutest little salt-and-pepper shakers a couple weeks ago, and I really want a butter dish.”
“Are you going to do other dishes too?” I asked as I followed along. I wasn’t really seeing anything that was my style. “Like, to eat off of?”
“No, I’m keeping the cheap white ones,” Mom replied. “Easy to replace when someone breaks it.”
“If you wait until the grandkids are grown, you’ll never have cool dishes,” I pointed out.
“Who said it’s the grandkids? Your brothers break my shit, and they’re all grown.” She shrugged. “It’s not worth getting a set of dishes I’m too afraid to use.”
“Fair enough.” I helped her start going through the kitchen cabinets. “But you should get a cake stand and a pitcher, at least. So, it looks like a theme, not just random green pieces.”
“Ooh, a cake stand would be gorgeous in the corner of the counter.”
“Maybe even a big bowl to put fruit in,” I added.
“I like the way you think,” she said gleefully, her hand shooting out to grip my forearm. “I see a hutch in the dining room. This is not a drill.”
I chuckled as she rushed to the other room, following along a little more slowly.
I kept my phone close and checked it at least once an hour for the rest of the day. We went from sale to sale, following any little neon handwritten signs we found. There was a surprising amount considering the weather grew more and more miserable as the day went on. The girls were good at keeping me distracted, and Mom was even better—she’d been doing it since I was born. I barely had time to obsess over the fact that Cian still hadn’t reached out. It was only when we were in the car and they were discussing what they’d found that I had a few moments to wonder if I’d ruined things completely. A part of me had assumed that he would reach out, even if it was just to say that we were fine.
My mom talked us into having dinner with her and my dad, so we went there after we’d exhausted our shopping options and it started growing dark outside. Dad was already home, screwing around in the garage when we got there.
The moment I saw him, my stomach twisted with nerves. I’d seen my dad since he laid into me at the club, but we hadn’t really spent any time together. Usually, my brothers and their families were around as a buffer.
“Go say hello,” my mom ordered as Frankie parked. “Break the ice.”
“Stop reading my mind,” I grumbled.
“Why do you think I invited you over for dinner?” she scoffed, climbing out of her seat. “You walked right into it.”
Lou and Frankie laughed as I cursed.
I made my way slowly over to the garage as the rest of them abandoned me and headed inside.
“Hey Dad,” I called as I got closer.
“Oh, you’re talkin’ to me?” he called back, tossing something onto his workbench.
“I wasn’t ever not talking to you,” I hedged.
“Bullshit.”
“Well, you were an ass.”
Dad raised his eyebrows in surprise. To be honest, I was a little surprised I’d said it, too.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“I find your phone and blood on the ground,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not gonna put me in a good mood.”
“Once you saw I was fine, you should’ve—”
“Doesn’t work that way,” he cut me off.
“I’m sorry you were worried—”
He made a sound of disgust in his throat. “Worried doesn’t cut it,” he said flatly. “Not even fuckin’ close.”
“Okay, well, still,” I said, throwing my hands up. “I wasn’t wasted. I didn’t get sloppy and dumb—I did everything I was supposed to.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t find you out back with that piece of shit,” he said, leaning against the bench. “Killin’ the member of another club would cause more problems than you can even comprehend.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be hanging out with shitty clubs,” I snapped.
Dad just looked at me. We both knew that the clubs they associated with weren’t known for their good manners. The men I’d been surrounded by my entire life weren’t exactly polite company, to be delicate about it. I was allowed at the club during parties, because most people knew that I was Tommy Hawthorne’s daughter. The club was a protection I’d always been able to take for granted—but I’d been warned that there was always a chance that there would be someone stupid enough to cross the line. I’d gotten complacent. Cian was completely justified when he’d questioned my common sense—I’d just been too angry to hear it.