Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I make my cup of coffee, put a healthy dose of creamer in Griff’s mug. One that has Finn’s face plastered all over it. A gift from Jack on Father’s Day, the year he picked up Finn.
“Maybe I’ll call Mom and see what she’s up to today.” I blow the steam out of my coffee mug before taking my first sip. I make my way out of the kitchen and walk through the living room. Seeing my things mingled with Griff’s hits me deep inside my chest. My feather display is the only thing that needs to be put on the shelf, and since it needs to go on the top, I’m shit out of luck. Even with a kitchen chair I can’t reach, and no way am I going to try and lug the ladder inside from the garage only to smash the ceiling fan.
I continue my walk, hearing Finn come up beside me, so I open the back door, and he wedges his way out first. “How rude. Someone is forgetting their manners.” Another plus with all my infinite amount of time while not working is at least I’ve got Finn to keep me company, and I’m not completely bat shit crazy talking to myself. It’s not like he responds to the crazy, could still be up for debate, but this way, I’m not inundating Mom and Aunt Cat to keep me busy. Finn wanders off, and I take my seat under the covered patio. An overhead fan spins above, doing a smidgen of good in the heat and humidity. I’d like to say after summer, it cools down a lot, but the truth of the matter is, it’s not until mid-fall that we see a cooler temperature.
I tuck myself into one of the cushioned chairs, drink my coffee, and stare off at the ocean. In another hour or so, the beach will start filling up, chatter will be carried through the sand dunes, the tips of canopies will make it hard to see the waves hitting the shore, and one day, I hope it’s us down there with a family of our own.
“Finn, what are you doing, crazy boy?” He’s running through the yard in circles, getting his zoomies out of the way. It’s funny the way he’ll run and run and run only to pass out ten minutes later. Literally, the big lug won’t move from his spot for hours, not even when a delivery man is at the door. Finn settles next to my feet once he’s done, and if we don’t get inside, he’ll demand to stay our here forever. That’s not happening once the sun fully peaks and the hottest part of the day hits. “Come on, boy, it’s time to go inside.” I take another couple of sips of my coffee, knowing one cup is my limit, and if I make a second cup, it’ll sit on the counter, cold. We head back inside, for the couch, Finn in one corner, me in the other as I stretch my legs out. I’ve soon got the television on some reality train wreck of a show, the blanket is thrown over my body, and I’m drifting to sleep.
----
A shrill of laughter wakes me up from a dead sleep. I look everywhere thinking someone is in the house only to realize it was the television. My eyes are still adjusting to the light, which is a lot dimmer than what I expected. Finn has moved closer to me, burrowing under the blanket, and is breathing on my calf. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been snoring.
“Fuck,” I mumble. The sun is low, and I’ve slept all freaking day. Finn lifts his head as I scramble off the couch. Griff is supposed to be home sometime tonight, and I’d at least like to have dinner cooked in case he comes back hungry. I’m looking for my phone, not remembering where I left it earlier this morning. My bladder screams at me in protest, and Finn is now up, pacing back and forth. I run to the sliding glass door and fling it open, not wanting to have to clean up two accidents. I leave it open, run through the kitchen, see my phone on the counter, and snatch it up.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I’ve got a missed call from Griff along with three texts sent in succession an hour ago.
Griff: Going to be late getting home.
Griff: Never mind. It’s going to be tomorrow. I’m stuck doing paperwork because of an incident.
Griff: Baby girl, you okay?
The last one came a while after the second text, and Griff knows I’m by my phone, especially after we met. I forget about needing to use the bathroom, immediately hitting Griff’s number, praying I’ll get an answer. The knowledge that I won’t is at the forefront of my mind. If he’s got a problem going on, the last thing he’s going to do is answer. The call rings, once, twice, three times, and then goes to voicemail. He's obviously busy. I hit the end button. Ugh, I’m so pissed at myself. The need to not be clingy is thrown out the window.