Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Yeah…
I hugged my knees to my chest and dropped my chin as a breath gusted out of me.
Sloan smiled a little ruefully. “So much for a more appropriate topic.”
I let out a tired chuckle. “I’m not good at discussing the weather, I guess.”
“That’s a boring topic anyway.” He started gathering the chips from the table and crammed a couple into his mouth. “Maybe it’s best we save our movie night for tomorrow. We could all use some sleep.”
It’d be a while before I went down, but I wouldn’t mind closing myself in. I had a lot to think about.
“Where should I sleep, Sir?”
“I’m gonna prepare my room for you,” he replied. “I have my own bedroom for when my kids are here, but if you wake up and need to talk or you’re upset, we’re right next door.”
I hadn’t considered their sleeping arrangements, but if kids were involved in their everyday life, it made sense that part of their lifestyle went on behind closed doors.
“Does that mean Greer and Archie are together officially and you’re their Daddy side piece?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
I was looking forward to hearing their story. I only knew that Greer and Sloan had been best friends for a very long time, and when Greer met Archie, they all sort of came together. Figuratively and literally, I assumed!
“All right, let’s head inside,” he said. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you want to shower before bed.”
“Yes, please.” Washing off the worst of the soot and grime in Greer’s cabin hadn’t removed the smell of fire.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Daddy, get out of there!” I screamed.
Why wasn’t he moving? The house was gonna collapse at any moment!
“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it?” He looked so sad, so hurt. And not by the flames surrounding him. He had to move! “I can never please you, Corey.”
I choked on a sob and paced the length of the doorway to the club area. He had to get out of there, he had to get out of there. Panic gripped me tightly, squeezing my lungs, and I watched in horror as the fire moved like an ocean across the ceiling.
“Daddy, please!” I cried. “We have to get out!”
He just shook his head at me, and he didn’t say the words, but I saw the accusation in his expression. This was my fault. I was impossible to please.
A loud crack tore through the house, followed by a rumble that shook me to my core. Everything was falling apart. The chandelier trembled until it fell from the ceiling, into the sea of fire. The roof was coming down. I screamed. Daddy disappeared in the flames—they engulfed him.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!
As tears streamed down my face, I was caught in a slow-motion tidal wave of flying embers, where I could see everything so clearly, so slowly, every flame, every pillar of smoke. The roar was as deafening as it was tranquil.
I pictured Daddy’s face, his crystal-blue eyes and dirty-blond hair, and I wondered when his soft smile had morphed into a forced smirk. When had I become too much for him to handle? What caused the first strain in our relationship? We used to be wonderful together, right?
The embers flurried closer to me, the air got too hot to breathe, and I couldn’t shake the image of him. He was mean sometimes! I hated when he looked disappointed. Where had I begun fucking up so badly? Why couldn’t I breathe? Oh God, I couldn’t breathe.
The sound of a ragged gasp pulled me away from the fire, and I scrambled off the bed and got my legs twisted in the covers. “Ouch!” I fell to the floor with a thud, pain shooting up my spine. “Owww.”
Breathing labored, mind completely fucked, and pain spreading through me, I whimpered and groaned and pushed myself off the floor. Too dark—I flicked on the little lamp on the nightstand and slumped down on the edge of the bed.
I coughed into my fist, just as I heard two knocks on the door.
“You okay in there, Corey?” It was Greer.
“Yes, Sir. I’m fine,” I croaked.
“Seeing is believing…” He opened the door and poked his bed head in.
He was a vision in sweats, sleep lines, silver in his beard, and messy hair.
“Either you had a bad dream or you’re redecoratin’,” he said.
I winced and rubbed my elbow. Apparently I’d hit that too. “One or the other,” I mumbled.
Some redecorating wouldn’t hurt, though. Unless the stacks of moving boxes next to the desk were a permanent fixture.
Greer walked farther in and left the door open, and two of his dogs stopped in the doorway. Buddy and Beast—they were very big and supposedly very cuddly. Sloan had said they were American mastiff mixed breeds, and they weighed like 180. Each. That was thirty pounds more than me!