Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Noa coughed around a giggle, the sweetest fucking sound, and he shook his head and immediately buried his face against KC’s arm. Aww, he wasn’t ready to laugh yet.
“Sweetheart…” KC kissed the top of Noa’s head. “We’re going to keep trying to make you laugh until all the sadness is gone.”
Okay, good, so we had a plan.
“You’re gonna fail,” Noa whined. “Just let me mope.”
We couldn’t. I mean, he’d have so many moments where memories dragged him down in the future; we just wanted him to get a break. That was all. We didn’t demand he “get over it.”
“Noa?” I cleared my throat. “We would never rush your grief. Okay? We just wanna give you reprieves.”
“That’s right,” Daddy murmured. “You need a break.”
Noa pouted to himself and straightened in his seat, and he started picking at his food. “I mean, you can try…”
I glanced at Master. “That’s consent, right?”
Master smiled ruefully and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “If not, I suppose he can safeword.” He reached for the Sharpie. “Chipmunk, give me your arm, please.”
Noa did so silently, disinterested, probably assuming Master was going to begin the event activity where Noa was a human Post-it pad. But it was a little bit more than that.
We were mixing a doodle cocktail. One part humor, one part love.
“You know what never makes me laugh?” Noa muttered. “Notes.”
We’ll see.
I peeled the skin off the fish, glad it was all intact, and started eating.
Fuck. Delicious. Buttery fish, the lemon, perfect texture, soft and creamy potatoes with a slight crispy shell from the oven. The asparagus had the best crunch-chewiness ratio as well. I’d come so far! Much of it was thanks to Archie and Macklin; they’d taught me a lot.
“Jesus, Cam,” KC mumbled around a mouthful of food. He liked it!
I beamed.
In the meantime, Master was scribbling a novella on Noa’s arm.
Noa wrinkled his nose and side-eyed the, to him, upside-down words.
KC leaned closer, and he must’ve been surprised. “Uh, baby, remember you’re going to upload photos of every scribble.”
Master hummed. “Worth it.”
Now I wanted to know too!
“There.” Master leaned back and capped the Sharpie.
Noa turned and twisted his arm until he could decipher the words, and he flicked an uncertain look between Master and Daddy. He totally wanted to smile a little too, right? It sure looked like he was trying to withhold amusement!
“Are you for realsies?” Noa asked.
Master nodded soberly and grabbed a slice of bread. “It’s tragic, but it’s true.”
“What does it say?” I asked.
Noa’s mouth kept twitching—he was definitely seeing what was funny! “Um, when Daddy and Uncle Lucian met in high school, Daddy tried to make Loosh a nickname.”
KC grinned.
I couldn’t help it. I giggle-laughed, feeling like…like…when you entered a funhouse, and you knew some scary-ass clown was going to terrify you, but it was still hilarious to be there.
“Master Loosh!” I slapped a hand over my mouth.
Master narrowed his eyes and pointed at me with his fork. “That’s not becoming a thing, pet.”
Oh no, I would never.
Noa bit his lip. “Unca Loosh?”
“Not that either.” Master shifted the fork to point at Noa.
It worked a little. Noa was thawing out.
I shoveled a bunch of food into my mouth and went, “My turn!” Then I rounded the table and picked up the pen. Noa didn’t resist this time either, and he let KC feed him fish and potatoes while I scribbled.
I had just the story.
Colt once dyed the syrup for Mr. West’s drink’s sugar rim, and Mr. West didn’t pay attention. That whole night, he walked around with a blue Cheshire grin, and nobody told him.
I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip and handed the marker to Daddy.
Both Master and KC leaned close to read, and then I heard their laughter as I sat down again. They remembered that night.
Noa fought against another grin and shook his head.
We were getting there!
KC shared a story that was so short it required a verbal explanation—and that included me! Seriously? River had once had a green freaking mohawk?!
“But he wouldn’t even let Reese grow a mustache!” Noa exclaimed.
“In River’s defense, it was temporary hair dye, and it’d supposedly been for a work thing,” KC chuckled. “It lasted all of five minutes at Mclean. He basically walked through the house on his way to wash out the dye and run a trimmer over his head.”
Master was highly entertained too. “He kept grumbling, ‘I was fuckin’ undercover, leave me alone.’”
Undercover?
What on earth had he worked as? I’d thought River and Reese had worked in security or something like that.
Oh whatever. Noa let out a snicker, and that was all that mattered. And now he had “River used to have a green mohawk” doodled on his cheek.
“Oh my God, they’re all gonna see this online later,” I laughed.
That worked. That right there made Noa grin, and it felt so fucking good that my eyes welled up a little. But our fight wasn’t over. We had to make this last a while longer. I wasn’t asking too much, just…a couple hours?