Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Let me cook the noodles first,” I told her. “Then you can stir in the cheese packet.”
Callie pouted, but she stepped to the side, giving me room to work. Hannah was back among the living, although she still looked like shit. She’d been getting these headaches her whole life, but I knew damned well that stress made them worse, and she’d had more than her fair share of that lately.
Worrying about me and my disappearing act last night probably hadn’t helped.
At least the girls had been okay. I was still a little freaked out about what’d happened, especially Shade’s “touched what was mine” comment about Rebel. The more I thought about it, the less comfortable I felt about the situation. Hopefully I wouldn’t see the big Reaper tonight—I wanted to process and figure out my next step.
I should also get my ass in gear and get ready for work.
I’d need extra time to walk down because I’d left my bicycle there the night before. I’d also have to apologize to Bone for leaving him high and dry at work. Hopefully he wouldn’t fire me before I found something else, which could take a while. Violetta wasn’t exactly crawling with job opportunities. In the long run, I wanted to avoid bikers, but in the short term we needed the money.
I dumped the macaroni in the strainer, tossed it to get the water out and then poured it back in the pan. Callie dragged over a chair and climbed up to stir as I added the milk, the cheese packet and a glob of butter. Macaroni and cheese might not be the healthiest, but it tasted good and the kids loved it.
Hell, I loved it too.
Dishing up five bowls, I had Callie carry them to the table while I cut up a couple of apples for us to share. Then I joined Hannah and the girls at the table.
“It’s gonna take a lot of makeup to cover that,” Hannah said, nodding toward my face. I’d told her everything that’d happened already—we never kept secrets from each other.
“I know,” I told her. “But it’s not like I can stop working until it heals up. The bills won’t pay themselves.”
Hannah sighed. “They aren’t your bills. You don’t have to do this, you know. I hate feeling like I’m dragging you down with me.”
I set down my spoon to look at my sister and her children. The twins were babbling at each other in the special little language that only they could understand, and Callie was very carefully sliding individual macaronis onto each of her fork tines.
Sometimes I loved them so much it hurt.
“We’re a family. You and me, Hannah. We have to stick together because at the end of the day, we’re the only ones we can count on.”
They were Mom’s words, repeated to us a thousand times during our childhood. Hannah smiled at me, then reached across the table to catch my hand, giving it a squeeze. It was true. She’d always been there for me. I’d stay here with her and the girls as long as they needed me.
We’d finished eating and I was dabbing my thickest concealer on my bruised face when I heard the sound of a motorcycle coming down the street. Make that motorcycles. They sounded like they were getting closer, too. You’re just being paranoid, I told myself. Finish getting ready for work.
Then Hannah said, “Oh, shit” loudly from the living room. My hand stilled because Hannah didn’t cuss in front of the kids. Ever. Outside the roar grew, coming to a stop in front of our house. I left the bathroom to join her at the window.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I had a pretty good idea. Sure enough, there were at least six bikers in the graveled street, all wearing the same matching colors. Reapers. Shade and his brothers were back.
Hannah and I shared a look.
“Girls, go play in your bedroom,” she said quickly.
“Why?” Callie asked, holding a Barbie in one hand and a brush in the other. The twins stilled in the corner, where they’d been building with blocks.
Get them out of here! I mouthed at my sister. Hannah walked over to the freezer and pulled out a container of vanilla ice cream. Grabbing three spoons, she handed them to the children, then held the carton out to Callie.
“You can eat as much as you like so long as you stay in your bedroom,” she said firmly. The little girl snatched the container out of her hand and disappeared before her mother could change her mind, the twins right behind her. Hannah turned back to me, all business. “Should I call the cops?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t think we need to be afraid of them.”
Probably.
“What do you want me to do?” Hannah asked.