Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I want to touch her. I want to kiss her. This need is not easing or evening out. It’s getting worse.
“I’m majoring in film history, so that goes with the territory,” she tells the guys. “But I love movies in general.”
God, she’s cute. I’m so fucked.
Pen settles down and watches the first John Wick with the vocal vigor of a fan. She exchanges smack talk with the guys and clenches her fists when John’s assassin friend gets murdered. I have more fun watching her than the movie.
Jelly is the last to leave. I escort him out, he clasps my shoulder. “Nice night here, son.”
“Thanks, Pop,” I deadpan.
His teeth flash white in the evening light. “It’s a good thing you’re marrying that sweet girl.”
Guilt hits hard but perverse curiosity has me asking, “Oh? And why is that.”
“Because, son, you are clearly head over heels gone on her.”
He leaves me standing at the end of the drive, watching his taillights fade to small red dots as the olive trees rustle in the breeze.
Twenty
Pen
Jan takes us to the first game I’ll attend for August. I haven’t seen Jan in years, and when he steps out of his rental to open the door for us, I move to hug him. Unlike the Lucks, I’m not particularly prone to hugging, but seeing him alive and healthy has a lump rising in my throat. The world had almost lost him. I feel that keenly as he gives a tiny start of surprise and then wraps me up in his big arms. A faint woody citrus scent clings to his clothes. To me, January will always be the big brother I never had but would have created if I had a choice: solid, dependable, wise.
“Hey, there, Penny Lane.” His voice is gruff against the top of my head.
“Janus,” I return, using an old nickname. “I should have come to see you.”
He stiffens a little then relaxes. I know he understands I meant when he was in the hospital. “You were in Italy. And I was shit company at the time.”
I’d been doing an art semester in Italy and couldn’t leave. But the guilt lingers. Though we were never close as friends, he’s still important to me.
“Your card was perfect,” he adds lightly.
I hug him closer. “I’m just so . . . glad you—”
I can’t say more without being weepy, but I suspect he knows that too. With a final squeeze, he leans back and looks me over. I do the same, and take in his face. Like the other Lucks, he’s beautiful, same sculpted jaw and winged brows of his brothers. His features are more blunt than August’s, eyes hold a tinge more frosty blue. But they’re so close in appearance, it’s a bit unnerving. Even so, I don’t get weak-kneed when I’m around him.
A smile lingers in the crinkled corners of his eyes as he gives my arm a gentle pat. “You look good, oh soon-to-be sister.”
I know August told him everything, so I purse my lips and snort. “Ha.”
He flashes a quick grin. “Little Penny . . . Imagine my surprise. It’s always the quiet ones.”
June and May skip out of the house and scramble to get in the back of the SUV, but they catch his comment.
May snickers. “He’d know.”
“Yeah,” June adds. “That Jan, a mile a minute with him. Can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“Brats,” he says fondly while holding the door for me. “We discerning conversationalists will just have to stick together, eh, Pen?”
Primly, I gather myself, putting on my seat belt as he jogs around the front and gets in. As soon as he does, May’s leaning forward.
“Maybe you should wait to see how she’s with August before you say that, Jan.”
I shoot her a repressive look, and ignore the speculation in Jan’s eyes, as he murmurs, “I guess I’ll do that.”
We arrive early, much more so than one usually would. But as it’s been planned by Jan and August, I don’t question. A deal’s a deal, and if he wants me here now, I’ll be here.
Maybe it’s because we’re with Jan, who is an established god of the sport, but we enter through an all but hidden door that leads us directly to the bowels of the stadium. Staff bustles around doing God knows what but looking very focused. I feel completely in the way, but Jan strides at my side with easy confidence.
Every few paces, he’s greeted and fawned over like royalty. A casual acquaintance might think he’s perfectly happy, but flickers of strain appear whenever a well-wisher walks off.
When we reach an elevator bay, June, May, and I cluster near a wall to stay out of the way, while Jan pulls out his phone. “I’m going to be taking the girls up to the suite,” he says to me, still looking down at his phone. “But August . . . ah, there.”