Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“Thank fuck,” he says and then he turns the radio down before putting the car into reverse. It’s at that volume level where you know the other person wants to talk. Right now, I don’t like that level. I’d rather blare music the whole way down.
“Hey, I like that song,” I tease him but he ignores me. The car moves easily out of the spot in the parking garage and for the first time since this trip came up, I start questioning it.
Dean clears his throat and puts the car into drive.
“You all right?” I ask him, feeling a sense of wariness grow in my chest.
“My mom’s kind of a bitch,” he tells me and as much as that sucks, I’m happy to hear that’s what’s making his face look all uncomfortable.
“I think that’s normal maybe?” I say and take another look around the car. The bags are in the back seat, but he doesn’t want to stay long and assured me we’re absolutely not staying at his mother’s. Which is nice, because fuck staying over at someone’s mother’s house. That’s a given.
Next to my duffle bag, there’s a white plastic shopping bag.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask Dean.
He glances at me and then blows out a short huff of a laugh. “I picked up a shirt. For you.” He examines my expression, watching to see how I react.
“From where?” I ask him as I reach into the back seat, taking the bag and reading the drugstore label on the bag.
“From the mall, it’s just in that bag because it was laying around.”
The wide and joyful smile on my face won’t budge. I lift the fabric out of the bag. It’s simple white cotton, but high quality. It’s not quite like the one he ruined, but it’s pretty and soft. I’m sure I could make it look dirty, though.
Even as my playful banter and perverted thoughts try to shove it all down, this little feeling pricks up, making me hot and uncomfortable. A feeling I want to reject. Immediately. Or at least I would have before.
“I didn’t know your size but—” he says and I cut him off before he can continue.
“I love it.” I wait for his gaze to meet mine before I lean across the small car and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “You didn’t have to, you know?” I say, slipping the shirt back into the bag and setting it down in the back seat again.
“Well, I’m happy it made you smile.”
The comfortable silence between us comes and then goes. Whatever’s eating him makes the air tense in this small car. “So, your mom?” I prod him for more information.
“She’s just,” he says then pauses and the sound of the turn signal, the steady clicking, fills the cabin. We slow to a stop at a crosswalk and he looks at me. “We haven’t gotten along in a long time, but my,” he says as his eyes flicker to mine and then back to the road before the car moves again and he continues, “my anger management therapist …” he trails off after saying the words slowly.
“Your shrink?” I say and when he quirks a brow and gauges my expression I give him a comforting smile. “What’s your shrink say about her?”
“Not much. He thinks I should go see her, though.”
I pick at my nails and peek up at Dean. Freshly shaven. I hadn’t noticed that before. “Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” I ask him and suddenly feel way too uncomfortable.
We’re not even ten miles from his place. We have hours to drive. This conversation is a little too heavy for comfort.
But … I’m curious. I can’t deny that. What the hell did she do to him?
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” he says and his answer’s short. Maybe it’s heavy for him too, but that only makes me want to push him more.
“How long’s a while?” I ask him.
“I left home when I was sixteen.”
“Sixteen is a good age for change,” I mumble, looking out of the window as he turns onto the highway and finally picks up speed. The trees blur by and I keep talking before Dean can comment. “When was the last time you saw her?”
He doesn’t look at me as he switches lanes and answers, “When I was sixteen.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah,” he says and then adds, “I probably should’ve told you.”
“I mean … I’d have thought it would have come up in conversation, maybe?” I say jokingly but really, what the fuck?
“I wasn’t going to go, but then I wanted to get away after that picture. And I wanted to take you with me.”
“So you just figured it’d be fine to drop it all on me once I was securely fastened in your car?”
He shrugs, making the shirt that’s already tight across his shoulders look that much tighter. “It seemed like a sign, I guess.” His words come out soft and they’re nearly drowned out by the faint music and the sound of the air conditioner, but I heard them.