Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
I wince. “Mom catching us in the kitchen probably hasn’t helped.”
His eyes tighten, and he blinks hard. “Yeah, well, nothing extra therapy won’t fix.” He flashes a half-smile that fades fast, and I can see he’s doing his best to chuck the sarcasm in the garbage for this convo. “Joking.” He swallows. “I’ve been getting to know him a lot better, and I can understand how someone who was raised with a father like his…” He works his jaw. “Let’s just say respect probably isn’t what would get him through a day.”
It catapults me to the phone call I overheard, where his dad suggested poking a hole in the condom, and I cringe. “Yeah, his dad doesn’t seem like a great person.”
He stiffens, his eyes laser-beaming me. “Have you met him?”
“No.” More heat swarms my face. “I kinda heard him on the phone talking to Donnelly.” My stomach tosses, and guilt assaults me for even sharing this not so fun fact.
“What about?”
“I don’t think Donnelly would want you to know.” I thumb through the pages of the book. “He was so upset that I even heard his dad speak like that…”
Dad is on his feet, but he only rakes a hand across the back of his tensed neck. His nose flares. “I hate that he still needs to talk to that piece of…” He bites back the curse word, his cheekbones sharpening as he clenches his jaw.
I wonder if Donnelly’s dad could carve a path to becoming a better person. “He is trying to help Donnelly in a way.” I try to see the world from Sean Donnelly’s eyes, and it’s hard but maybe not impossible. “He seemed to be happy for him and me. But then there was that one thing he said…” I see Donnelly’s sheer anguish, and I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“What’d he say?” my dad questions.
“I, uh…”
“Luna.” Now my dad is pained.
If I don’t fill in the blanks, my dad will do that himself with more graphic, horrific answers rather than the tamer truth. “He was just curious about meeting you, and he gave some advice.”
“What kind of advice?”
I’m burning up, despite the temperature drop. Window, help me!
“Fucked up advice?” Dad asks, as though he knows it would be.
My shoulders unbind, and I’m incredibly sad because I realize my dad has heard Sean give this type of advice to Donnelly before. This wasn’t a one-off thing. “Can you just ask Donnelly?” I whisper. “I don’t think I can tell you.” It hurts too much to share, and I want to protect him. It should be his choice on how to let it spill.
After a long moment, he nods. “Okay. I’ll ask your boyfriend.”
My lips part in gut-punching shock. Did I just transport myself to an alternate universe? Is this real? “Did you just call him my…?”
“Is that not what he is to you?” he asks.
Tears invade my eyes, and I blink, the waterworks cascading down my face. I rub my cheeks fast and spring to my feet. In seconds, I’m hugging my dad, and his arms are wrapping around me. The beat of my heart begins to slow.
Pulling back, I ask, “You don’t think I’m obsessed? That this is just a trauma bond?” I’m almost scared to hear the answer.
“If it is,” he says, “then it’s something your mom and I have, and we can’t throw stones at glass houses, can we?” He produces another dry smile. “But he’s landed himself in the middle of my very long shit list, so don’t get too excited.”
I think everyone is on that list. “What about Mom?” I ask, my smile descending into a frown. “Is she still upset…?” I trail off because his troubled eyes say, it’s complicated and yes.
He seems more concerned about her. “She’s very upset, as she should be. As I am. She’s a sex addict who saw her daughter in a sexual position with a bodyguard in our kitchen.”
Guilt invades, but I can’t even imagine how this is affecting her. “I’ll try to be more considerate,” I whisper.
“Tell your boyfriend the same thing or I will. And if your mom sees him naked again—his funeral will be the next we attend.”
14
PAUL DONNELLY
“I hate it here,” Xander whispers at the funeral home, blood-red carpet beneath our feet while we’re seated on a bench in a silent, dead-end hallway. No one shuffles through and bothers him or me. His leg jostles, and his head touches the wood-paneled wall behind us.
I twist a knob on the radio attached to my waistband. “You can’t spell the word funeral without the word fun.”
He laughs, the sound fading fast. “I’d ditch if I could.”
I might call him my little elf, but it’s not like he’s a little kid.
He’s two days shy of being a legal adult and no longer a minor. Which also means I won’t need to go through Lily and Loren for anything security-wise concerning Xander. I’m looking forward to it like a hot Wawa gobbler on Thanksgiving.