Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Hello to you, too, dick. What are you doing here?”
“Actually, I dropped by to see you. Thought I'd find out how that babysitting gig is treating you. It's gotten an awful lot of your attention. Dad says you're dragging yourself through the door so late some evenings he's already put mom to bed.”
“Jackson, I just got home. Can't you wait five minutes before laying into me?”
He shrugs, an annoyed look on his face. Like I'm the one who's being ridiculous.
I realize a second later it's all for show. I also notice Ginger isn't here, which means he has a bigger license than usual to be a huge prick without her reigning him in.
“What? Can't your big brother have a heart-to-heart?” he says quietly, moving in front of me. His hands dart out, catch my chest, and squeeze. I try not to flinch. “I'm not here to screw you over, sis. Honest. But you're gonna have to tell me what the fuck you think you're doing hanging around with him.”
I'm not sure whether I blink before my heart rate goes to eleven. Blood rushes to my cheeks, throbbing like a bad wound. I hate how easy it is for him to make me feel like a fourteen year old kid who just got caught sneaking in after curfew.
There's no point in asking who. We both know. What I can't figure out is how he found out I'm working for Marshal.
“The Castoff, sis? After what he fucking did to me?” His tone isn't what I expect.
I thought there'd be disgust, anger, shame. But this voice, this outrage in my brother's eyes, is deeply personal.
“I've only heard the rumors second-hand. I was in college when it happened, remember? Jackson, I don't know what you're –“
“He started a fight on main street, sis. Attacked me like the crazy animal he is. He spit in my goddamn face and on every man in uniform at that parade.”
“That's...” Not what I've always heard. According to the story I know, Marshal was guilty of insulting him, but he never threw the first punch. I looked up the old articles since I started working for him. “That's crazy. Obviously, I'm really sorry it happened, Jackson, but it was also four years ago.”
I decide to play it safe. There's no use in challenging his account, where he's the victim. I'd also love a chance to find out what he thinks he is, if he'd just get out of my way, come into the living room, and sit. “Why don't we talk about this over coffee like rational human beings?”
Jackson swallows, rooted to the ground, his arms slack at his sides. “Because just looking at you makes me sick. What the fuck is there to discuss if you're not backing off, Sadie? You're just going to keep nannying for that asshole, apparently. After you kept your boss a secret and didn't even spill the truth as a common courtesy.”
I look him in the eye, nodding. Yes, yes, and obviously, yes.
“There's nothing for us to talk about.” He moves past, heading for the door, pushing me lightly against the wall.
“Jackson, wait!” He doesn't. He triggers me on a whole new level, leaving me screaming after him. “It doesn't have to be like this! He's not a total monster. If you'd just come back and talk to me, instead of running away like a pissed off man-child, maybe you'd see!”
I jump, feeling another heavy hand on my shoulder. I spin around and see dad, a deflated frustration in his eyes that says he already knows. “Let him go, Sadie. He has his reasons.”
“Yeah, and what reasons are those?” I hate how angry I sound, how I push my father away and stomp into the kitchen, hurling my purse on the counter. “Nobody talks to me about anything. I know what happened at that stupid Fourth of July parade years ago, dad. I read the old Port Eagle Standard piece. I know I wasn't here for it, I know there's plenty of blame to go around, but is Jackson really the total victim?”
My father sighs, slowly trailing after me. “That man signing your paychecks insulted him deeply. He scandalized the entire town.”
“Oh? Even though the police report says Jackson confessed to starting the fight?” I watch my father cough into his hand, rubbing his throat. It's the same nervous tick I've seen whenever mom confronted him over running up the monthly credit card statement. “That's right, dad. I've done my homework. Sure, it's a little reckless, taking this job after everything that happened. I know I kept it close to my chest. Part of me just knew this would happen. But I went back and checked. It's not nearly as one-sided as everybody makes it seem.”
I can't believe I'm defending the Castoff. I signed up for Mia, not his reputation management, yet here I am.