Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Hey, Dad.” I smiled up at him.
“What can I get you?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Let’s have some soup, okay?”
“Soup?”
“The instructions Alex has from the hospital say you should eat small meals because you have a concussion and you could throw up. I’m thinking soup is the safest thing.”
“Okay,” I told him, not about to mention the monstrous breakfast I’d had. I did have a much smaller lunch, but I wasn’t about to tell my father that either.
“By the way, I’m glad to see you wearing your glasses instead of your contacts,” he commented with a shiver. “With how you’re feeling, they’re not a good idea at the moment.”
I was going to say I could sleep in my contacts, but he had a point, and an eye infection was the last thing I needed right now. “How do you still hate my contacts?” I teased him.
“I will never get over purposely putting something in your eye. That can’t be sanitary.”
I chuckled, and he smoothed my hair back from my forehead and bent over to give me a quick kiss before leaving. I leaned up on my right elbow, put on my classic black Wayfarers, and noticed Alex was sitting in the same place, at my feet, and he was snoring, with his head thrown back, his mouth open. I sat up, looked over the back of the couch, and found Evan at the dining table.
“And I was tired?”
He chuckled before throwing a card down. I focused on the group then and saw that Beth and Joanna were still there, playing cards with Evan…and Cord.
“Hey,” I greeted him. “What are you doing here?”
“Trace,” Evan scolded me like I was being a brat. “Be nice.”
“I was being nice,” I snapped defensively.
“It sounded accusatory,” Evan assured me.
“Did it?” I asked Cord.
“I can’t tell the difference with you. You’re always mad at me.”
“I am not.”
“But it sounds like you are.”
“You see?” Evan chimed in. “That was my point.”
Cord shrugged. “But whatever, I’m sure I deserve it.”
“Dramatic much?”
“You’re basically proving my point that you’re being an ass,” Evan said. “Though if anyone deserves to be cranky, it’s you.”
“Oh, thank you so much.”
“And that was sarcasm.” Evan tsked at me. “Stop already.”
I groaned and noted that Cord was smiling now.
“So I got off at six,” Cord murmured, “and came by to check on you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks,” I said, lying back down. When I turned my head to the right, I realized football was on the TV, and I got confused. “Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it Monday already?”
“No, it’s still Sunday.”
“And it’s night, right?”
“It is,” he confirmed. “Why?”
“Why the hell am I looking at Green Bay and”—I squinted at the screen, still bleary with sleep—“Chicago?”
“It’s called Sunday Night Football, dear. We do have something called night games in this country, ya know. Electricity for stadium lighting is an actual thing.”
“Dad,” I yelled.
“Yes, Tracy?” he called from the kitchen, which was just beyond the table where they were playing cards.
“I’m going to tell your son to go to hell now, okay?” I asked cheerfully.
“Okay,” Dad said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Go to hell, Evan.” I rolled over on my right side to watch the game. The screen was suddenly obstructed, though, as Cord came and took a seat on the coffee table, completely blocking my view of the players.
“How ya feeling?”
“Like shit,” I mumbled. “I’m sore all over. I don’t get it. I always thought of myself as tough.”
“When were you ever tough?”
Was he kidding? Hard to tell from his tone. But his smile was warm and his eyes glowed. Definitely giving me crap, then, and the normalcy of the interaction was good. “Hey, thanks again for being there last night. I know it couldn’t have been any fun for you, but you stayed, and I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, you sure got cozy fast,” he said, reaching out to push my glasses up on my nose.
“What does that mean?” I asked defensively, annoyed that quickly. He always said something or did something that pissed me off, made some stupid remark that got under my skin because of how he said it.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
I waited because he wasn’t done.
“But I guess you’re over Breckin Alcott, huh?”
“Come again?”
“I mean, the way you wrapped yourself around me, it was like we were sharing skin.”
“You’re complaining?” I said indignantly, propping myself up on my right elbow. “I can’t believe you’re complaining after I just thanked you. God, you’re an ass.”
His wicked grin made the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle. “No, I’m not complaining. I just think that if I were your man, I would have a problem with how you were lying with me.”
“Why?”
“It was too close.”
“It was not. You’re delirious.”
He leaned in so no one else could hear him. “At one point, Trace, I could feel how very happy you were to be near me.”