Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
As I inch back, my brows furrow while I stray my eyes to the massive brick-and-steel establishment next to us. It stands out like Captain Fucking Obvious.
“Oh shit, man. My bad.” Knox barks out with a breathy chuckle. He glues his hip to mine, his arm not dropping from my shoulders. “I figured it was best to stay away while they were discussing early parole.” He scrubs under his nose with his free hand, the diamond-encrusted family crest ring on his pinkie finger dancing in the low-hanging sun. “I’m not the best character witness.”
He isn’t lying. He was removed from the courtroom twice during my hearing and found in contempt three times. My lawyer believes he was the catalyst of my harsh sentencing. Pleading no contest to the charges brought against me when I handed myself in should have seen me serving an eighteen-month sentence with the possibility of parole in six months.
I received twelve years with no stipulation of an early release.
“But you’ll forgive me when you see what I’ve got up my sleeve.” When we reach a blacked-out top-of-the-line SUV, Knox’s arm drops from my shoulders before he grips the back passenger door handle so hard his knuckles go deathly white.
His pause to build the suspense is nothing out of the ordinary. He was the captain of our high school's football, basketball, and lacrosse teams because if there was a chance it would secure him attention, he demanded a front-row seat.
When we met, we were the equivalent of chalk and cheese, but since Knox refused to let his family’s wealth and stature wedge a gap between us, we became joined at the hip. We’ve been friends since the sixth grade and have each other’s backs no matter what.
The past nine years of hell have been a testament to this.
My heart rate kicks up when Knox grins before announcing, “He refused to get a haircut, but no amount of unkempt locks can taint the Howell genes.”
Aware he has me on tenterhooks, he kicks at my tennis-shoe-covered foot with his designer polished black boot before pulling open the tinted door of his pricy ride with dramatic flair.
When River’s eyes jerk up from the tablet playing a current episode of Love Connection, his pupils widen before his mouth gapes.
“Laken?” he queries, like I’ve aged a hundred years in the past nine, so he no longer recognizes me.
My reasoning is plausible. I didn’t want him to see me in a prison jumpsuit while surrounded by men who’d yell at him if he attempted to hug me, so I asked Knox to tell him I was housed in an interstate prison that didn’t allow visitors.
River has an affectionate soul, and he refuses to contemplate anyone’s dislike of hugging. If denied the possibility of greeting me with a hug, he would have a meltdown, so I did what was needed to ensure his happiness wasn’t impacted by my decision to plead guilty.
“Laken,” River murmurs again when the hint of an orange tinge in my cropped beard and the fond twinkle in my eye can’t be denied.
After tossing his tablet onto the seat next to him and clambering out of the car the best he can without crinkling his freshly pressed suit, he throws himself into my arms, almost knocking me over.
With an extra chromosome hindering his physical growth, his head slots below my chin, but there’s a lot of oomph to his tiny stature.
He was of average weight and length at birth but fell behind his peers during his schooling years. His short stature has never affected his attitude, though. He’s been a menace to society since he was born, and although his care is technically still under our mother's guardianship, he’s been on my watch full time since I was eleven.
Our mother was only nineteen when she had River. She was already struggling to make ends meet with two children under four, but River’s Down syndrome diagnosis was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
She couldn’t afford to take him to the specialists who’d help him reach the milestones in development and growth, let alone purchase the formula needed for a baby with severe colic, so her care disintegrated quickly during his first two years of life.
The more our mother stepped back from the role of parent in the four years following, the more responsibility I had to take on.
I should resent River since most of my childhood was spent raising him, but he’s taught me more about compassion, understanding, and love than our mother ever could have. He is my reason to breathe. Though, at the moment, his body-crushing hug isn’t allowing much air to reach my lungs.
“He said we were getting something to eat,” River announces in my ear, still grasping me to death. “I should have known he was up to something when he made me wear a suit.” He holds on tight for a few more seconds before he eventually lets go so he can issue Knox a death stare that cuts worse than a knife. “I would have agreed to a haircut if you said it was for Laken.”