Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Extra curvy, to tell the truth, but that’s exactly how I like my women. I’m a big guy—6’6” with muscles to spare after working out every damn day for the past three years—I don’t want to be with some frail little thing I’m afraid I might break. Give me a girl with thick thighs and a heart-shaped ass over the stick-thin supermodel type every day of the week.
Sunny Young—(she and Kane had different fathers but the same mother, hence the different last name)—is everything I could ever want in a woman. She’s sweet and kind and thoughtful and beautiful and her letters have been keeping me going for the past two years. It’s a damn good thing I’m getting out today because Kane is getting out soon too. Without him here, I wouldn’t get any more letters from my beautiful Sunny.
Not that I’ll be dating my cellmate’s little sister anytime soon, no matter how adorable she is. I don’t even know how I started writing to her and pretending to be Kane in the first place.
Oh Hell, yes I do. I know what got me going. I happened to find a crumpled envelope in the trash about a week after I first moved into Kane’s cell. He was out in the yard and I was taking some time for a rare moment of privacy—something that’s in very fucking short supply in prison.
I had nothing else to do so I picked the letter out of the trash. It was addressed to Kane in round, flowing handwriting that made it obvious the sender was a woman. But he hadn’t even bothered to open the envelope before he crumpled it up and threw it away.
I’m not normally the nosey type but for some reason this letter caught my eye. Maybe it was the cute Snoopy stamp she used or just the way her handwriting looped over the creamy white paper. There was something hopeful about it.
Looking around to see that no one was watching, I opened it and read my very first Sunny letter.
It was addressed to “my big brother” and contained a lot of gossipy news about Sunny’s hometown, her boyfriend, the diner she worked at called The Pie Shop, and how she was trying to remodel the kitchen in the house their mother had left her when she died. (Apparently Kane’s father got custody of him when the two of them split which isn’t unusual in the Were world. It’s believed that a boy needs his father to train him to be a successful Alpha more than he needs his mother to care for him in our culture.)
The whole letter was written in a sweet, intimate tone that almost felt like someone writing in a diary, as though Sunny was just writing for her own satisfaction, with no expectation of a replay. But at the very end she said,
I know you never answer these letters, but I’m not going to give up on you, Big Brother! I want you to know that someone on the outside is rooting for you and loves you. Please be safe and know that I’m praying for you every night. I hope someday you’ll write back but until then, I’ll keep sending you all my love and hugs,
Your baby sister,
Sunny.
That damn letter got to me. It sounded like maybe Sunny had been writing to her big brother for years but Kane was too much of a sociopathic asshole to even answer a single letter. It made me fucking angry—she sounded so sweet and kind and vulnerable—she just wanted her big brother to love her.
It also reminded me of my own little sister, who I lost before I went into prison. Bethany and I had always been close and I still missed her. If she’d still been alive, I knew she would have been writing me letters just like Sunny was writing to Kane.
Before I knew it, I found myself composing a letter back to her in my head. Prison is fucking boring—it’s the same damn thing day after day after month after year. Anything new or interesting makes a huge positive difference in your life. And Sunny’s chatty little letter did that for me.
I somehow convinced myself it was okay to write back to her, pretending to be Kane. I mean, I considered letting her know I was Kane’s cellmate instead, but I was afraid I’d scare her.
How would it look, having some strange inmate writing to her from prison? Some scary guy who stole the letter she wrote to her big brother and read all her private thoughts? Pretty fucking creepy—that’s how it would look. So I decided just to write back as Kane.
Sunny’s next letter was much longer and more involved. She was thrilled that her “big brother” was finally writing back after years of trying to get in touch with him. I had been right—she’d been carrying on a one-way correspondence with Kane ever since she’d tracked him down in the prison system years ago and he’d been ignoring her weekly letters for just as long as she’d been writing.