Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Hey,” Michael says, walking into the kitchen. “Burgers? Cool.”
“Don’t eat that,” Jack and I say in unison before bursting out laughing.
Michael looks at us like we’ve lost our minds.
“I made them,” Jack says. “Have some pasta salad, or heat up some leftovers. Save yourself the pain.”
Michael furrows his brows and sits next to us instead.
“Did you have fun with Ava?” I ask.
He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “You guys, I’m freaking out.”
Jack lifts a brow. “Why?”
“We don’t have much time left here,” Michael says.
“And?” I prompt. “You have wrestling camp as soon as we get back.”
Michael’s face falls. “I know.”
What? I look at Jack.
“What’s going on, buddy?” Jack asks.
“When will I see Ava?”
I try to remain serious, considering my son’s apparent midteenage crisis. But he’s too adorable to keep from grinning.
“It’s not funny, Mom.”
“No, I know it’s not. I’m not making light of the situation, Michael.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he says. “We go home, and she goes home, and—what? I never see her again?”
Jack leans forward. “She lives thirty minutes away from us. You can see her on the weekends.”
“On the weekends?” Michael’s jaw drops. “What if I have a tournament? Or if she has a recital or a . . . horse show or whatever horse people do. I don’t know.”
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Jack says. “You’ll work it out.”
Michael pushes away from the table. “This sucks, you know that?” He heads for the stairs. “I can’t decide if it was better to meet her or if I would’ve been better off to not ever know her.”
Jack chuckles. “Welcome to falling in love, Michael.”
“Fuck love,” he says.
“Hey, watch your mouth,” I say.
He stops at the staircase. “Sorry. I’m just . . . frustrated. The older I get, the more frustrating things become. Putting together shelves. Getting a job. Not living close to Ava.”
“You’ll make it,” Jack says.
Michael stomps up the stairs, punctuating his displeasure with life every step of the way.
“I don’t think I can deal with Michael and Maddie in relationships at the same time,” I say, reaching for my wineglass.
“Let’s just focus on ours and let them fend for themselves.”
“Jack,” I say, laughing.
He shrugs, peering over my shoulder.
“What are you looking at?” I ask.
“Dad’s light came on.”
I follow his gaze. Sure enough, Harvey’s bedroom light glows from behind his curtains.
“Should you go check on him?” I ask.
Jack hesitates but gives in. “Probably.”
“Go. I’ll clean this mess up and then reheat the leftovers.”
He stands and kisses me on the head as he walks by. “Leave the mess. But please reheat the lasagna.”
I laugh, my stomach fluttering.
The door shuts, and I heave a sigh of relief. Of contentment. Of happiness.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JACK
Do you remember that haunted house in Meigs County?” I ask.
Dad chuckles. “Hell yes, I do.”
“A haunted house?” Maddie asks. “What are you talking about?”
The three of us trudge through the forest with empty ice cream buckets in our hands. Dad has used these same buckets for blackberry picking for at least the last thirty years, but probably longer. One is splitting down the side. I tried to toss it in the garbage a few years ago, but like the bucket itself, Dad came apart at the seams. Won’t make that mistake again.
“There was this old house in the middle of a cornfield by my homeplace,” he says. “My dad always said it was haunted, but I figured it was just to keep me and my brothers and sisters away from it. You know how kids do—they mess around and get hurt or in trouble. Probably just wanted us to stay away.”
“Watch your feet, Mads,” I say, moments before she steps in a mess of vines.
“But one day, I don’t know—I must’ve been in my twenties, I had a dog. Named her Mop. She was a good dog, really. Followed me home one day from the stripper hills. I was out there mushroom hunting, and she stayed on my heels all day. I got in the car and she chased me about half a mile or so, so I loaded her up and took her home with me.”
“What happened to her?” Maddie asks.
He shrugs. “She died.”
“Pops!”
“What?” he says, scoffing. “Things don’t live forever, Maddie Moo. Might as well get used to that now.”
My daughter looks at me, horrified. I wink at her in an attempt at calming her down. It does little for her state of mind.
“Back to the haunted house, Dad.”
“Oh, right,” he says, pausing for a rest against a tall tulip poplar tree. “Well, me and Mop were out there, and she nosed around the house. She finally got her courage up and went in. Three, maybe four minutes went by, and that dog raced out of that house like she saw a ghost. Tail between her legs—the whole bit. She jumped in the bed of my truck and wouldn’t get out.”