Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’m not… sad,” she sniffled.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, squeezing her a little tighter. “Just overwhelmed?”
“Yeah.” Her face pressed against my chest as her arms slid around me.
We could stand there for fucking ever if that was what she needed. I wasn’t going to be the one to let go first.
“This is so much better than I’d been thinking.”
“Honestly, it’s better than I’d been thinking too. And I’m kind of impressed the girls were able to drive this damn thing all around the country.”
“I could never.”
“Hey, you never know.”
“Oh, no. I do. I’m, uh, not a fantastic driver. Or at least, I’m not right now. It’s been so long.”
“You’ll get the hang of it again. If we need to, we can practice in a school parking lot like we’re sixteen again. But I promise not to slam on the invisible brake and yell at you for hitting the accelerator too hard.”
“My parents didn’t teach me to drive.”
“No? Who did?”
“Some guy who lived in the same trailer park. I think he took pity on me. Took me out in his ancient pickup and taught me the basics.”
There was more of a story there. About her family. About why some stranger would pity her situation. But she was already fragile. I didn’t want to cause any more fractures.
I knew she was going to pull away as she stiffened in my arms. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel a rush of disappointment nonetheless.
“Sorry for crying all over you. Again.”
I reached out, using my thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Stop apologizing. You’ve got a lot going on. And this is a big deal. A place of your own. No locks, except the ones you want, and no fucking cameras. Or bleach, lemon cleaners, HEPA filters, intercoms… should I go on?”
“It’s going to be so strange. Just… living alone. Not having to obey someone else’s rules. Except the ones made by Kit and Ariah, of course.”
“They don’t have many rules. And what they do have will likely be about animal care and not killing the pollinators.”
“I think I can manage that.”
She moved past me, opening the door for Edith, who struggled a bit with the stairs but managed to figure it out. She spent a minute sniffing around before moving down by the beds.
“I guess it’s up to her where we sleep.”
Proud to be challenged with the task, Edith glanced between the beds before jumping up on Ariah’s old one.
“I’m sure the girls will have all the bedding and such hidden in here somewhere.”
With that, we began the search. Only to learn that the girls had painstakingly put everything away in either vacuum-sealed bags (the linens, towels, pillows, etc.) or plastic containers (all the cooking and eating supplies).
“I have a kitchen,” Lolly mused, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That I can actually use. Wait. How can I use it?”
“Looks like the oven is electric, so the solar panels should handle it.”
“I don’t have to worry about conserving energy?”
“I mean, maybe don’t turn every light on during the night and bake all day long, but you should be fine. The girls used to run the air and charge all their electronics on the panels on top of cooking.”
“I guess I will learn one way or another.”
“If you run out of juice, I’m sure Kit or Ria would be happy to have you over. And if you feel weird about that, you can come see me. Oh, speaking of, I have this for you.”
I reached in my pocket for the folded-up sheets of paper and handed them to her.
“What’s this?”
“Directions from here to the clubhouse. Printed. Like the olden days,” I said, getting a little laugh out of her.
“Thank you. This is perfect.”
So as not to lose it, she carefully placed it in one of the kitchen drawers and stashed her keys on top of it.
“Wanna go see Kit’s place? It’s a goth paradise, I’m sure.”
“Sure,” she agreed, reaching for Edith, then pausing.
“Bring her. Trust me, everywhere here is animal-friendly. My cousin Layna told me that she visited once and there was a chick brooder on the kitchen counter and a little pool full of pullets in the living room.”
“Well, in that case,” she said, smiling as she scooped up her dog.
“Get back here, you little devil,” a voice said as we stepped outside.
Then we were treated to the sight of Ria—wearing baby pink overalls with only a black sports bra beneath and big, rubber boots—chasing after a massive, wide-breasted white male turkey who was making those warbling noises as he ran away, looking like he was having the time of his life.
“Trouble with the locals?” I asked, making Ria stop, hands on hips, sucking in greedy breaths, her head thrown back for a moment.
Like with Kit, it was obvious when you looked at Ariah why her travel content went viral. She was gorgeous. She had soft curves, rich dark skin, an oval face, golden-brown eyes, and her long hair in twists, though she had a scarf wrapped around her head to keep the twists back and, likely, keep the sweat out of her face as she worked outside.