Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“You never smile at me like that,” Tate says as he crosses the road between our houses. “Should I be jealous?”
Jude gives him the side-eye and hugs him tighter to his side. It amuses me that my brother is so damn possessive over his man. No one wants to steal Tate away, but he protects him as though everyone he encounters does.
“Very,” I say with a smirk.
I rise from the porch chair, shove my phone into my pocket, and fist-bump Tate when he approaches. Jude reluctantly releases him and saunters into the house. Tate lifts a brow at me, waiting for some sort of explanation.
Like always, I keep my lips zipped.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” he grumbles playfully. “I’m happy you’re happy, though. It’s a good look on you.”
My chest expands at his words. I am happy. Sloane has that effect on me.
We head inside where the usual Sunday family dinner chaos ensues. Gemma, Mom, and Aubrey are all crowded around Willa and her newborn baby boy, Bane. Callum stands behind them, tense and ready to intervene if anyone makes the little squirt so much as whimper. It’s funny seeing him as a dad. Even more so than seeing Spencer as a dad. Where Spencer has fun with little Rex, Callum seems terrified and treats Bane as if he’s made of glass.
Dad, locked in a conversation with Hugo, watches me with narrowed eyes as I follow behind Tate. He didn’t buy my bullshit answer this morning, but I didn’t stick around for him to probe. I escaped to a shower where I replayed every hot as fuck moment between me and Sloane.
Something tells me I won’t be able to avoid him for long.
Dinner is loud but not a good enough distraction from my thoughts. I keep daydreaming about Sloane, unable to keep up with the conversations around me. When my phone buzzes again, I discreetly pull it out to read under the table.
Sloane: Oh my God. Did you do this?
She sends me a picture of her in the mirror, her blond hair pulled aside to reveal a big-ass hickey. Whoops.
Me: Sure as hell better have been me…
I send her a devilish smiling emoji. She returns it with a few middle finger emojis.
“Dempsey.”
Mom’s sharp tone cuts through the noise and everyone falls quiet. She’s not one to yell or get pissed about anything, especially not at family dinner.
I lift my gaze to find her staring at me with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
“What?” I snap, her sudden focus on me that’s drawn everyone else’s focus too irritating me.
Her nostrils flare at my rudeness. “Something’s going on with you. You’re being secretive. Are you doing drugs?”
Spencer barks out a laugh but smothers it when Aubrey smacks his shoulder.
“Mom,” I say, unable to keep from laughing too. “No. I’m not doing drugs. Chill.”
She drops her fork to her plate with a loud clatter. “I will not chill, Dempsey. Whatever is going on with you is turning you into someone I don’t recognize. Tell me what you’re hiding.”
A spear of anger pierces my chest. “Maybe I’m finally becoming who I really am.”
“A reckless jerk?” Mom asks, voice shaking as her eyes brim with tears. “That’s what it seems like. First, you buy a motorcycle, then you embarrass us and Sloane in front of the whole town, and now you’re staying out all night. I think it’s drugs. Is it drugs?”
Tate clears his throat. “Jamie,” he says gently, “perhaps the three of us could pop into Nathan’s office to discuss this.”
She ignores him, hastily swiping her tear that races down her cheek. “Tell me. Are you still harassing my best friend? She’s too old for you, you know.”
Ahhh.
So my parents aren’t as blind as I thought them to be. Especially not Mom.
“She’s not too old for me,” I grind out, unable to keep the lid on this any longer. “She’s perfect for me.”
Gemma gasps and shakes her head as if to warn me to stop talking. I’m done keeping secrets. If they want to accuse me of shit, they may as well get it right what I’ve done wrong.
“Sloane has known you since you were a baby,” Mom hisses. “She’s changed your diapers. Why in the hell would she ever be romantically interested in you? You’re a child, Dempsey!”
Fuck this.
I jump to my feet, sending my chair scraping across the wood floors. Glowering at my mother, I growl, “I am not a fucking child, Mom, and you know it.”
“Dempsey,” Dad warns, voice deep and authoritative. “Sit down.”
“No,” I snap. “I’m tired of being told to sit down, shut up, and obey, obey, fucking obey. From day one, me and Gemma have been your two perfect children the two of you have loved parading around town. I’m sick of it. I don’t want to be a goddamn trophy like the rest of your kids. I want to enjoy my life and love whoever the hell I want to love.”