Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
And we burst out laughing together.
“Fucking sick,” Jake says, scooting back over in his seat. “I was ready to go too.”
“Same. My dick is so sad now.”
“Is it?”
“It’s weeping, Jake.”
He tilts his head and watches me mope, then he pushes his plate across the table, bumping my empty one out of the way, and offers me the remaining half of his donut.
“This helps,” I say, picking it up and shoving it into my mouth. “Mm. But I think I need another full-size one. BRB.”
I slide the empty plate out of the way, and then I’m out of the booth and charging the counter where I press my fingers and face to the glass display, and I think I’ll go with a new flavor this time. Because why not.
It’s a special day, after all.
“I got one stuffed with Nutella,” I say, returning to the booth. “Lucky. Am I right? I should be the one getting stuffed.”
I plop back down in my seat and hold the plate out, showing off my selection, but Jake has his head down and his attention laser-focused on his lap.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He looks at me, and I’d know there was something wrong even if his jaw wasn’t hard clenched and I couldn’t hear his slow, labored breaths move in and out through his nose, because Jake has been smiling all day and now, he looks the furthest from it.
He slides his phone across the table. “Read it.”
I swap out my plate for the phone and click on the screen, brightening it so I can read the text message displayed.
Hey Jake it’s Riley
I’m sorry to do this over text but your brother won’t leave me alone long enough to call and I know he doesn’t really want me talking to you. He’s being stupid about this. I know he’s hurting but I don’t think he’s being fair to you
Please don’t feel any blame for what happened. It wasn’t your fault Jake. The baby wouldn’t have survived no matter what I did and you are absolutely not at fault okay?
I’m so sorry for what’s going on between you and CJ. I know he’ll realize he’s wrong and fix things. I promise I’ll try and talk to him
I miss your baking. Like REALLY miss it
And you of course
We both love you and hope you’re doing okay
Please reach out if you need anything
I finish reading, then I look across the table at Jake.
“This is a good text, right? Riley’s okay and she said none of it was your fault, which we already knew. Still. It’s nice of her to say that to you.” I hand him back his phone. “What am I missing? Why do you look pissed?”
“My fucking brother knows I didn’t do anything wrong, and he’s still not talking to me?”
Jake shoves his phone away and then swipes his arm across the table, clearing it and sending empty plates and my untouched donut flying.
“What the fuck!” he roars.
Our eyes lock, and his face falls immediately.
“Shit,” he whispers before pushing out of his seat.
I watch Jake clean up the mess on the floor and apologize to the staff behind the counter, and he feels so bad about what he’s done, he apologizes a third time even though he’s assured it isn’t necessary.
Then he stuffs a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar after paying for two more Nutella stuffed donuts.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
He sits back down and slides the plates in front of me, and his voice sounds so small when he says, “I’m sorry, Felix.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“I just can’t believe he’s doing this to me.”
I watch Jake press his back against the booth and scrub his hands harshly down his face, and now he’s looking anywhere but at me.
He watches out the window and stares at his tattoo and studies the table that’s vibrating now because I don’t think Jake can keep his leg still.
“Jake,” I say.
He doesn’t answer me.
And I start to feel sick.
I get a bag for my donuts so I can take them to-go and grab on to Jake’s hand. I tug him out of the booth.
I hold on to him on the walk to his car and during the whole ride home, and I try not to flinch when he squeezes my knuckles too hard. I can take it.
“We’ll be okay,” I keep telling him.
And I know he hears me, but I worry.
I worry.
I don’t sleep at all that night.
And if I happen to run into CJ anywhere, I think I might kill him.
I SHOULD’VE STAYED IN BED
JAKE
FELIX PUSHES MY face against his groin and arches his hips away from the bed, forcing me to deepthroat him when he starts to shoot, and he’s so fucking exhausted from staying up all night and worrying about me that his words are slurred and sleep heavy. He’s barely making any sense.