Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I can’t help smiling when he points toward the sky, Pixie moving the telescope in the direction he shows her. He’s good with kids, good with her. The thing about Sully is, he’s nice to her not because it’s something he’s supposed to do, but because he enjoys kids, enjoys spending time with her. He’ll be a good father one day.
I head over. “You two causing trouble?”
He gives me an apologetic smile I can easily read as, Oops, I didn’t mean to bring her out with me, but I didn’t want to say no.
Pixie says, “I found this old telescope in the closet. I asked Mr. Bishop to show me how to use it.”
“Well, that was nice of Mr. Bishop, wasn’t it?” I sit down beside them. “Usually he’s grumpier than that.”
“He is not!” she defends him while Sully chuckles.
“I think Porter is confusing me with himself.”
“How dare you? I’m made of sunshine,” I tease, tired of trying to figure out why he brings this side out in me, why I can act lighter and joke around with Sully in ways I can’t do with other people. It used to be that it only happened in rare moments, just the two of us together, but ever since I told him how I felt…feel? I’m not even sure what I said, but since I told him I needed him, it’s happening more often.
“Sunshine hiding behind the clouds maybe,” he jokes back.
“I don’t even know why I’m friends with you. You’re mean.” I turn my attention to Pixie. “Wanna know a secret?”
She nods.
“This was Sully’s when he was a kid. I used to see him look through it at night and wonder what he saw up there that was so interesting. I used to want him to show me too.” I feel his gaze on me but don’t look at him. Is it because I’m using his nickname? Neither of them mentioned it, so I guess they’re getting used to it.
“Why didn’t you ask him?” Pixie questions. I love that she’s so inquisitive and never afraid to ask. It’s like she doesn’t let the world or the things she’s been through change her outlook on life. Even at her age, I hadn’t been that way. I’d been nothing but a ball of anger and sadness trapped in a kid’s body. I don’t ever want her to turn into that, want to protect who she is.
“Because I was a grumpy little shit,” I reply, and Sully and Pixie laugh.
“I can show you the Big Dipper,” Pixie says. “Mr. Bishop just showed it to me.”
My chest tightens, but I can’t say why. “Let’s see it, then.”
Pixie looks through the telescope, moving it slightly, before she stops and says, “Okay, don’t move it and look right there. It’s like a giant spoon.”
I lean in, one eye closed, and see exactly what she’s trying to show me, see all the silver dots in the sky, and find the Big Dipper immediately.
“It’s pretty, huh?” Pixie asks.
I pull back, look at Sully—at eyes my favorite shade of green, at the stubble I like against my skin. At lips I’ve memorized the taste of. “Yeah…real pretty,” I reply, and the way he smiles at me tells me he knows I’m talking about him. Clearing my throat, trying to change the subject before I end up jumping his bones right here, I ask, “What else you got for us?”
“Let’s see what we can find.”
We stay out there for damn near an hour together—me, Sully, and Pixie, looking at the stars. Sully is the kind of guy who seems to know something about everything. Sometimes I can’t help feeling a little stupid around him, but I know it’s not something he realizes. Hell, it would break his heart if he knew.
Pixie and I soak in all the knowledge he shares with us about the stars, like we’re both sponges, until she yawns and Sully tells her, “You should go into the house and get ready for bed.”
“Okay. I’m gonna go to the bunkhouse and tell Daddy good night first.”
Jesus…he didn’t even tell her he was leaving? I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Actually, I think your daddy went to bed early tonight. He wasn’t feeling great after dinner. Maybe just catch up with him tomorrow.”
She nods, but I can see the truth in her eyes. I held the same knowledge about my own dad when I was her age.
“Okay,” she says, the light in her gaze having dimmed slightly. “Night, Mr. Bishop. Night, Mr. Porter.” She runs toward the house on her thin legs, the dogs following behind to make sure she gets inside safely.
“I hope she doesn’t realize her daddy’s truck is gone,” I say.
“Shit. I didn’t know he left. Sure has been doing that a lot the last week or so.”