Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Into the next year,” I add.
Lily nods slowly, trying to shelve her misplaced guilt.
I wish she would embrace us trying to pamper her. “This won’t last forever, so soak it in now.”
She smiles more and finally backs away from the frying pan. “Thanks,” she says to both of us.
I would do anything for my sisters. Relinquishing the fight for the best bedroom and helping in the kitchen is basic.
I open the container of strawberries, then grab a cutting board and a knife. “Did either of you get the camera notification last night?”
“I have my notifications turned off,” Daisy admits, elbow-deep in soap suds. “Ryke does too because they’ll usually wake me up.”
Lily slides the muffins onto a serving dish. “I slept through it. So did Lo.” She frowns. “You and Connor didn’t hear it?” The way she says it—like we’re gods with bionic hearing—makes me hate admitting the truth.
“The windchimes are a horrid choice as a sound tone,” I say. “I’ve already switched it to a siren.”
Daisy winces. “RIP your sleep.”
“I don’t need sleep.”
Lily nods. “She’s a vampire,” she says to our little sister like it’s known I commune with fanged creatures and will be around for centuries.
“I thought vampires still sleep.” Daisy steals a strawberry off my cutting board and grins when I shoot her a look. “In coffins.”
Lily processes this information with a faraway expression. “When’s the last time any of you have seen a vampire sleep in a coffin?”
“I don’t watch vampires sleep,” Daisy says. “Werewolves, on the other hand.” She wags her brows.
“I’m serious—serious about fictional vampires,” Lily says quickly. “Twilight, The Vampire Diaries—no coffins.”
Daisy rinses the frying pan. “Modern-day vamps must realize beds are superior.”
“Rose is a modern-day vamp,” Lily concludes.
I nearly smile seeing their smiles grow. It’s been a hard past couple of months, and this time together feels therapeutic for us all.
Thunderous laughter suddenly resounds from the living room, and I picture Eliot laughing big, boisterous laughs among his cousins—reveling in last night’s misdeeds. Not today. I quickly finish cutting the strawberries and wipe my hands on a dish towel.
“I’ll be back,” I tell my sisters.
In the living room, nestled under a window, Eliot and Tom sit on a cushioned bench, a Backgammon board between them. Audrey has scooted up an ottoman and observes the game.
Okay, so he’s not among his cousins. Just his siblings.
As soon as I approach, all three twist towards me, and I don’t give my sons a second to blurt out some witty quip.
“Eliot,” I say. “We need to talk.”
Tom winces.
Audrey lets out a shocked gasp. “Is he in trouble, Mother?”
“To be seen,” I say.
Eliot stands with as much nonchalance as his own father carries daily, and he turns to his little sister. “Take my spot, Audrey.”
No, I will not soften by the sibling love.
Though my icy heart nearly melts when Audrey grins and says, “I’ll win for you.”
“Win for us,” Eliot tells her with a fanciful wave goodbye. He walks backwards towards me and most definitely is mouthing something to them.
Still, I feel myself getting mushy and the rise of a traitorous smile. Ughh. When Eliot faces me, he follows me to the back deck. I don’t bother grabbing a coat. I’m in a long-sleeved black sweater-knit dress.
The icy cold wind hits my face, but I feel at home. Eliot also has long sleeves, but he shivers as soon as the door slams closed.
I thread my arms. “I’ll wait for you to get a coat.”
“A coat?” He hops on the railing, his legs so long that they nearly touch the deck. “I’ve never needed one. Coats are purely for fashion, not function.”
“That must be why you’re shivering.”
“Your eyes deceive you, Mom. I haven’t been shivering.”
I try to see through his wiseass smile, but it’s a little difficult, admittedly. Connor says it’s because joy, merriment—it’s a part of Eliot. It's not all a facade. But sometimes, it can be.
In truth, I’m hoping it’s not now. I’m hoping there is nothing tragic he’s hiding from me, and he simply did a stupid dare last night for shits and giggles.
“My eyes don’t deceive,” I tell him plainly. “Yours, however, will be in a glass jar fermenting on a bookshelf if you think to deceive me.”
Eliot touches his heart. “You would blind me.”
“For being a little shit, yes.”
He grins, a softness in it—which I see as his love for me.
If he’s trying to make me soft...it might be working. I let out a long sigh. “Really, what happened last night?”
“I thought you saw the video,” he states. “It was a dare.” He holds out his hands, as if it’s as simple as that.
“Just you and Donnelly?” I question. “Where were Luna and Tom?”
“Asleep.”
“If this was an initiation—”
“What?” His brows shoot up. “No. No.” He’s waving his hands at me, and he seems a little offended that I’d think it.