Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Car doors slam outside. I jerk my head up, peeking out the front window, catching the corner of a sun-stained red truck.
Placing the blanket on top of a box, I navigate the circle of my mother’s knickknacks and photos. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think I was performing a ritual of some kind. Paige rushes in and comes to a complete stop, her eyes widening as she looks around the place. I can’t help but grin at her astonishment.
“Holy crap! This place is huge,” she mutters, her warm mocha eyes smiling with excitement. She spins in a circle, her hands gripping the bottom of her Dutch braids. She always wears her hair like that, along with some hoodie, no matter what the temperature is outside.
Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close. Being alone in this big empty house today has made me miss her more than ever. Being by myself feels different now, knowing I’m on my own creates the loudest echo of solitude. She tenses beneath me. Snuggling her like a little kid is probably crossing some teenager line, but I needed to feel her, to smell her pineapple and peony perfume.
“You good?” I whisper into the top of her head, wanting to make sure her father didn’t do anything stupid.
“Yeah.”
Holding her by the shoulders, I move back to get a good look at the stitches in her face.
“I’m nervous it’ll scar.” She raises her fingers, barely touching the black string snaking through her porcelain skin.
“Nah, you’re young. It’ll bounce back in no time.” Cam’s cold shadow envelopes my body before he fills the doorway. Tension thickens. My arms drop from Paige’s shoulders. I’m sure he’ll have something horrible to say about the house. I murmur to Paige, “There are two rooms upstairs. Pick the one you want. I’ll use the other for my studio.”
“Sweet,” she says, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Studio?” Cam scoffs, before stepping completely into the house. His square shoulders and lanky six-foot height take over the foyer, causing an unsettling energy to raise the hairs on my arms. I feel like a deer watching a hunter enter its territory. Even though the intruder is on your land, a place you call home, you’re the one who has to tread lightly. “It must be nice living off dead mommy’s money, huh? Now you don’t have to get a real job.” His beady dark eyes stab into me. Sourness swirls in the pit of my stomach. He always considered my pottery trash, demanding I get a real job with a steady paycheck. I never did. Moving in with my mother was a different pace, she encouraged my creative side and didn’t care about a steady income. Being a starving artist is part of the career. Like actors not having enough sleep, or family time. It’s a sacrifice to do what you love.
“Thanks for dropping her off.” Grabbing the door, I wave my hand, gesturing for him leave. We’re not married anymore. I don’t have to put up with his condescending shit.
“Living in a place like this, don’t think you’re going to get another dime out of me.” He starts to leave, and I still my nostrils flaring with rage . He’s such a dick. I don’t know how I was with him for so long and never saw how ugly he truly is until we divorced.
“You’d have to pay fucking child support for me to raise it, Cam,” I snap.
Now on the other side of the doorway he glares back at me, his jaw clenched. I slam the door in his face before he can say another shitty thing to me.
Asshole.
Sliding the lock into place, I drop my head to the door, taking a deep breath. Cam unravels me. One look at his face, and I’m back to the many times he was mad, violent, or abusively drunk. No matter how hard I try to forget that part of my life, it’s always lingering, hiding in the shadows of my mind.
I take my time going up the stairs to see which room Paige chose. Cam’s truck revs, rumbling through the neighborhood, sounding like a pissed-off drunk teenager on a joy ride. I close my eyes, my teeth clenched, trying to calm my anxiety. I remind myself he’s not my problem anymore, but it does no good. The impression he’s imprinted on Paige and me in our new safe heaven is not the first impression I was hoping to make.
One box has been moved from the landing, but I still have to maneuver around the rest she left behind. Something clatters against the floor, and I follow the noise, finding Paige inside the room on the left side of the house, above my room downstairs.
“Nice choice,” I say, entering the room.
“Yeah, I like the view.” She points to the window. Soft sunlight streams into the room, lighting the space in a beautiful glow. The floor creaks beneath my weight as I move to take a peek outside. The neighborhood comes into view beneath a few swaying branches. It is nice. This house is nice. Everything about the place is nice. I can’t wait to make it ours.