Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Oh my God.” I shake my head, willing him to continue.
“Yeah. It’s just me and my parents now. We stepped up as a family, taking her in and sharing the responsibility. Nell mostly stays with me, but my folks keep her if I’m at work and she’s not in school. She calls me her uncle ’cause it makes more sense to her, I guess, seeing how I’m so much older.”
Holy hell.
That’s a lot to take in.
I just let it process for a minute, then murmur, “I’m so sorry. It seems like I’ve missed a lot of your life. But I’m really glad Nell has you.”
“You’ve missed a lot of everyone’s lives,” he flares.
And just like that, I’m ready to grind my teeth down to nubs again.
Stupid lunk.
Why does he have to rub it in when he’s the one who told me not to come back?
I try to keep my voice level as I say, “You’re right. Including whatever’s up with Ros. By the way, has she been acting kinda funny lately, or is that just how she is now? I don’t even know where she went tonight.”
For a second, the big man across from me sits up taller in his chair.
My eyes narrow.
There’s one thing I’ve always known about Grant Faircross.
He can’t lie worth a damn.
He can stay quiet about something—he’s insanely good at keeping secrets—but he sure as hell can’t lie about it.
And even if there are so many little things different now, things that throw me off until everything feels real but not real... I guess that hasn’t changed.
Because there’s a familiar stiffness to his shoulders, a little guilty jerk, a tell before he answers like nothing happened.
“Haven’t noticed,” he drawls, slurping his tea. “Don’t see Ros much these days. Been dealing with the tourists for weeks. Not much time to stop and talk.”
Right. Like he ever makes time for chitchat.
There’s a flash of irrational jealousy.
I picture Rosalind here every day, Grant stopping by Mom’s shop to find her waiting behind the counter with her sunny disposition and bright smile and crown of golden hair. She has the kind of personality that would charm anyone, even the most dour, stubborn, rude, brave—
Down, girl.
Calm your tits right now.
I do not have feelings for Grant Faircross anymore.
Especially when he’s hiding something and I need to know what.
“What do you know about my sister?”
“I told you. Nothing.” Grant scowls.
“Dammit, Grant. You’re acting like I’m still a kid and you have to protect me from potholes on my bike. If something’s going on with Ros, just tell—”
“Where the hell you getting this from?” he snarls. “I told you, I haven’t noticed shit. You got a problem with your sister, take it up with her. Don’t get mad at me about it, Butterfly.”
For a second, I stop and stare.
He shrinks back—as much as a human mountain like him can—knowing he slipped up using that old name I don’t dare acknowledge.
“That’s not why I’m—” I cut myself off, slapping my hands lightly on the table as I stand, shrugging out of his borrowed jacket. I drape it over the back of the chair, leave my tea untouched, and offer a sweet smile. “You know what? Never mind. Say hi to your parents for me, Grant. I’ll stop by one day to see them when I’m sure you’re not there.”
While he glares at me, I turn around and march into the living room, heading for the front door.
Only, there’s company.
Nell, just coming down the foot of the stairs. She’s dragging some kind of mangled blue floppy horse thing with rainbow yarn for a mane.
A unicorn, maybe?
It’s hilariously filthy and stained, but she clutches it like it’s the most cherished thing ever while she scrubs at one eye and blinks at me.
“Miss Ophelia? You’re going home already?”
That little girl makes my scathing smile genuine.
“It’s past my bedtime, hon. Pretty sure it’s past yours, too. Why are you up again, sweetie?”
“...I didn’t get to tell you good night.”
And there goes my heart.
“Oh, honey.” I step closer, offering my hand. “Want a goodnight hug?”
Nell nods drowsily.
So I sink down on one knee and pull her into my arms, painfully aware of Grant’s huge shadow in the kitchen doorway, watching us in vibrating silence.
“Promise me you’ll be good, all right? No more running away. If this big dumb jerk is mean to you, if you’re good and stay at home, then I’ll take you out for ice cream.”
Nell’s woebegone look is a little too calculated.
“He’s mean all the time. That’s a lot of ice cream...”
“You’ll have earned it. Because he is mean all the time,” I throw back over my shoulder before standing again and ruffling Nell’s hair. “Good night, munchkin.”
“Good night, Miss Philia.”
“Good night, Philia,” Grant rumbles, stressing his pronunciation in a way that tingles my heart.
Nope.
Not tonight.
I’m not giving in to that pull, that gravity, that one-way ticket to hurt.