Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Yeah, Mom.” I’m sure she can hear the tension in my voice.
“Well, honey, what was I supposed to do? Give her some two-blow joe’s number so he can screw her out of the money her parents left her?” I’ve gone and truly pissed her off, and all I said were two damn words.
“Give me the phone, Ellie,” I hear Dad mumble in the background. Well, my night just went from shit to shittier.
“He’s not being an asshole, just a grump,” Mom retorts. I muffle my chuckle.
“Jag, you there?” Dad is swift with his words.
“Yeah, I’m here. I already told Mom it was fine. Joss gave me the heads-up she referred someone. I was looking at the schedule when she sprung the news on me.”
“Alright, we’re all aware there’s a past but, bud, I saw the girl myself. Boy, that girl has had the weight of the world on her shoulders. The way your mom tells it, she came home from college to help and never went back, been taking care of one parent after the other.” I already knew as soon as I saw Lyric’s name with Randy attached to the estimate order, I’d be taking over. The last thing I want is to admit to myself why I’ve been ready to delete his name and input mine.
“I’ll take care of it. Mom didn’t let me get a word in before you came on. I’ll call her tomorrow, see if I can’t meet her over there before Monday.” A clawing takes ahold of my chest, rattling my cage, making me think all kinds of shit I don’t need to be reflecting on. Thoughts that make me second-guess keeping my distance, putting the past where it belongs, in the past, and laying my eyes on her in the flesh. The picture Jude showed me happened to be her driver’s license. I don’t know one single person who has a decent picture attached to their identification, yet some-fucking-how, Lyric does.
“I knew you would. We’ll be around. Make sure you stop on by and bring Lyric around.” I don’t respond, mostly because there’s a clanking going on, and I hear Mom say something to my father before he’s gone. This call is going to take a lot longer than I expected, meaning getting out of here early is shot to shit. I’m tempted to grab my laptop, the contracts, plans, and head home. There’s one slight problem with my plan—I won’t stop until I’m falling asleep, and I’m talking head nodding only to smack myself in the head when I inherently conk out.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you helping Lyric,” my mother says calmly into the phone. Apparently, she booted Dad out of the situation once she got her way. Classic Eleanor Steele moves right there.
“You’re welcome. I’ll let you know when I’m over your way. Am I good to get back to work now?” I ask.
“No, you’re not. Let me tell you what Lyric did today, which, by the way, she wouldn’t allow me to so much as lift a finger. I had to watch as she went to town trimming the bushes, which she said was pointless because roses will be replacing them soon enough. Then she trimmed back branches, grabbed a weed eater, and went to town in order to see to those massive pavers. I feel bad we didn’t keep up with it more than we did. Anyways, we fed her dinner, and now she’s back at the bed and breakfast.” She barely takes a breath before she’s back at it, “Your father told her she’d be doing a lot of this stuff for no good reason, especially once the work on the house starts. Lyric shrugged her shoulders and said at least it wouldn’t be even more overgrown, and it gives her something to do besides sitting down. That girl, well, I can’t wait for you to see her again.” The giddiness in her tone means she’s up to something and what that is will be no good.
“Mom.” She continues carrying on about Lyric. Talking about her features, the way she looks exactly like her mom, eye color, hair color, physical build, and what she wore today. “Mom, stop.” I try to get her attention again. She still doesn’t stop. My eyes close, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, placing my elbows on my desk. I’m tempted to hit the end button, except I’d find myself in a world of trouble. She already sicced Dad on me after I barely said two words. I can only imagine what will happen next.
“Mom!” I bark louder than necessary.
“Goodness, Jagger, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Gee, I can’t fucking imagine. This whole week has been one thing after another, whether it’s with myself or with a childhood girlfriend who had no problem leaving me in the dust. The damn kicker of it all is, after seeing her picture, my cock can’t get with the program. I’ve ignored it. Not once have I allowed my hand to get near it when it perks up at the thought of her. It’s made for a long-as-fuck few weeks.