Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Charlie had carried over Zeke’s projector, and a film that wasn’t holding my attention played against the wall. Bags of junk food littered the comforter, and Lucy was currently bent nearly in half so that her head rested on my stomach. It would’ve been nice except for the extra person in our bed.
“I love this part,” Charlie said, pointing at the wall. “She doesn’t take his shit.”
“He says that,” Lucy joked. “But you should’ve seen him with Zeke. That guy could’ve told him his shirt was ugly, and he smelled like dog poo, and Charlie would’ve just smiled and nodded.”
“I would not,” Charlie retorted. “And Zeke would’ve never told me that, anyway.”
“True,” Lucy said, gently nudging her brother with her foot. “And I’d never let you smell like dog poo.”
“I can take care of myself, you know,” Charlie mused, his eyes on the movie.
“Really?” Lucy joked. “Let me know when you want to start.”
Charlie scoffed.
I would’ve loved some one-on-one time with Lucy, but I couldn’t be angry that she and Charlie wanted to spend time together after all that had happened. My family had dealt with trauma on a smaller scale my entire life. The males had gone on dangerous missions, fought in wars, and seen the worst of humanity firsthand. My mother had lived through the Civil War, buried three children, and watched as her sons left to fight armies across the world—and even we were shaken.
They had come into our home. Our sanctuary. The one place in the world that should’ve been safe.
“I forgot how much I dislike the main characters in this,” Lucy said conversationally. “Neither of them is very bright.”
“They’re sweet,” Charlie countered.
“Whatever you say,” Lucy hedged.
“They overcome so many obstacles,” Charlie insisted, pointing.
“Obstacles of their own making,” Lucy shot back. “If they’d just talk to each other, half of their issues would be resolved.”
“You’re the worst person to watch a movie with,” Charlie grumbled, rolling off the opposite side of the bed with a thump. “I’m leaving.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Lucy argued, lifting her head. “I’ll pretend I like it.” She laughed. “Stay.”
“It’s two in the morning,” Charlie replied. “I’m going to bed.”
“Let’s watch a different one! Ambrose doesn’t mind,” she said, elbowing me in the gut as she boosted herself up. “Right?”
I just looked at her.
Charlie snorted. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Not too early.” He pointed at her. “I’m sleeping in.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Lucy replied, dropping back down with a sigh.
She paused the movie, and we lay there quietly, listening as Charlie left my room and shut the door behind him.
“Thanks for being such a good sport,” she said, carefully rolling to face me. “I think he needed some sister time.”
“I think you needed some brother time,” I countered, running my hand over her hip.
“That too.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Physically? Sore. The stitches on my ankle itch, and it feels like someone donkey kicked my thigh. Emotionally? It’s a crapshoot.”
My lips twitched.
“The overwhelming rage is gone,” she said with a shrug. “At least for the moment. That’s good, right?”
“It’ll come back.” I squeezed her hip. “All of it will come back. You’ll deal with it, and you’ll feel better for a while until it comes up again.”
“Oh, great,” she grumbled.
“You survived a traumatic thing,” I reminded her. “Give yourself time to sit with it.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry for what I said in the kitchen earlier. I wasn’t even mad at you.”
“It would be okay if you were.”
“It’s not like you knew it was going to happen.”
“I should’ve listened to you.”
“Before or after I threatened to burn down your house?” she asked dryly. “I wasn’t exactly a pillar of logic at the time.”
“Finau was believable.” Just the thought of him made rage build in my chest. “He had to have a mate somewhere. That kind of thing is hard to fake.”
“Maybe they did take his mate,” Lucy said softly. “Maybe they told him that if he helped them, they’d give her back.”
My hand froze on her hip. “That would explain it.”
“I still hope he dies a horrendous death,” she said. “But it would make what he did understandable.”
“I’d do anything to get you back,” I confessed. “I’ll still kill him if we ever find him.”
Lucy smiled sadly. “I think you’d have to get in line. Your dad might beat you to it.”
“I could take him,” I boasted, completely full of shit.
“Yeah, okay.” She rolled her eyes and made a face.
“I thought you were calling them Mom and Dad now, not my mom and my dad.”
“Is that weird for you?” she asked, scooting up so she could lay on the pillow next to me.
“Not at all. Is it weird for you? You didn’t have to, you know.”
“I’m pretty sure your mom wasn’t taking no for an answer,” she replied wryly. She smiled. “It isn’t weird for me, which is weird. Does that make sense?”