Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“In the eighth grade,” she says with a grin. “If you can believe it. Well, at least that was when they first met. My father used to say he knew right away Mama was supposed to be his wife.”
“She was feeling him, too?”
“Nope. She made him work for it.” Amusement lights her dark eyes and her smile is so pretty I almost forget what the hell I asked. “They didn’t start dating until the tenth grade, but that was it. They went off to college together. Got married as soon as they graduated. No looking back.”
“Based on what you’ve said, with your aunt taking care of your mom… is your father not—”
“He died six years ago.” She draws a breath in sharply through her nose. “Drunk driver.”
“Fuck.” This time I reach for her hand on the railing. She doesn’t pull away, but returns the squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Hendrix.”
“It was the most painful day of my life.” She shoots me a wry look. “Only the day my mom was diagnosed came close. It’s like you said. The difference between someone being snatched away unexpectedly and someone falling away a little every day like sand.”
“Both ways suck. It feels like my father will grieve forever.”
“Same. My mother… she’ll get this look in her eyes. She gets kind of stuck in earlier seasons of life, and it’s nostalgic, but this is different. This is a longing. She does have hallucinations occasionally, and I wonder if she’s seeing my dad because she looks so happy. I hate that she’s happiest when she’s hallucinating and that real life feels bleak and disorienting to her sometimes. It’s so hard to see her this way and to know it’s only going to…”
A lone tear streaks down her cheek.
“Shit.” Hendrix swipes under her eyes with the hand I’m not holding and leaks a watery laugh. “This is a morbid-ass conversation, Mav.”
I enjoy the simple intimacy of her abbreviating my name. This whole encounter feels like we’ve fallen into a well, and the rest of the world is above ground, completely oblivious that down here, we’re getting to know each other. It shouldn’t be this easy to bare your soul, but I could stay at the bottom of this well all night learning Hendrix’s secrets, her fears. Sharing mine.
“Sorry about that,” Bolt says, striding back onto the balcony.
Hendrix does jerk her hand away then as if the touch she’d forgotten about suddenly burns.
Bolt lifts his brows, inspecting the spot on the balcony rail where our hands were joined seconds ago. “Am I interrupting?”
“Why is your bow tie upside down?” I demand, diverting the suspicion back to him. “And you have lipstick on your collar.”
He glares at me and parts his lips to reply, I’m sure with something rude and insubordinate, but Skipper comes up behind him, equally disheveled. Her locs, earlier tamed into an elegant style, now hang around her shoulders, half up, half down. The buttons on her blouse are misaligned like she’s tried to hastily restore her appearance to some semblance of order.
“I think your, um, shirt is…” Hendrix gestures vaguely toward Skipper’s torso where her bra is playing peekaboo through a small tear in the blouse.
“Oh.” Skipper’s hand flies up to cover her heart and other things. She aims a malevolent look at Bolt. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” he hisses. “You’re the one who—”
“I think we should probably go,” I interrupt, pushing away from the railing. “Before you get arrested for indecent exposure.”
He looks shamefaced for about a second before his usual arrogant mask falls into place.
“The driver’s downstairs waiting,” he says stiffly.
“I should go fix this,” Skipper says, clutching her torn blouse a little tighter. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bell.”
“It was certainly an experience, Skipper,” I say, keeping my tone neutral as much as I want to tease them both. I’ll wait until we’re alone.
She turns to walk away, but pauses and scowls over her shoulder at Bolt. “Don’t call me.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” he answers, rolling his eyes.
As soon she’s gone, his rigid mouth yields the tiniest scrap of a smile.
God, spare me Bolt infatuated. I can withstand a lot, but not my near-robotic assistant navigating actual emotions.
“It was good seeing you again,” I tell Hendrix.
I’m surprised at how much I want to stay. I have business, pressing business to take care of in Seattle and we’re flying there as soon as I leave. My mind would typically already be on the next thing, but my brain is snagged on this woman.
And that’s not good.
I’ve been attracted to women many times, but this, the way my mind frazzles and sharpens simultaneously when I’m talking to Hendrix, how aware I am of where she is at all times. It’s annoying to be this tuned in to someone I barely know, to feel this compelled to share so much with someone I’m not even certain yet that I should trust.