Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“I mean, it’s not the worst idea.” She hits the arm of the chair with her thumb. “But if we do this, it has to be done quickly.”
“We can ask Ryan to set it up. He can tie it in with the release of the movie.”
“When are you leaving for Australia?” I know she is going to probably freak out, so I brace myself.
“I’m not going,” I say, and I’m not wrong. She shrieks.
“What do you mean you’re not going? Yes, you are,” she says, her voice getting louder, so loud that I didn’t even notice we were landing.
“I pulled out when all this shit happened. Ryan wasn’t happy about it, but he’ll live.” The plane comes to a halt. I unbuckle the seat belt and hold out my hand. “Let’s go. You can yell at me at home.”
“No reason to yell. You are going.” She grabs my hand, and when we walk out of the plane, my father’s truck is waiting for us. He’s leaning on the front of the truck, his legs crossed, and his arms over his chest. “Hey,” I say, going to him and hugging him while he slaps me on the back.
“Welcome home, son,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Hey there, gorgeous.” He walks over to Jessica, bending to kiss her on the cheek and hug her with one arm. “Let’s get you guys fed.”
Jessica climbs in the back of the truck, and I sit in the front with my dad. We don’t really talk until we pull up to the house. “I should warn you.” He turns, looking at me. “Your mother . . .”
“Oh my God!” I hear my mother yelling from the front door, standing on the porch. “Get your behind inside now,” she says in her teacher voice.
“As I was saying, your mother . . .” he starts, and then we hear her again.
“Frank, don’t you make me come down there!” she yells, and Jessica opens the back door without waiting. “Oh my God, she’s here.” I look at my mother now who puts her hand on her mouth, rushing down the steps to hug Jessica. She grabs her face in her hands and says something to her.
“I see you picked a side,” my father says from beside me while I watch my mother and Jessica turn around and then walk back into the house.
“I didn’t pick a side,” I tell my father, grabbing the handle. “The side picked me.”
“Where does that leave Cassie? I know what I read in the papers, but where does it leave her?” he asks me, and I shrug. But he looks at me with worry because that’s what parents do.
“It was her, Dad.” He hisses, and I know I have to continue. “The picture that was leaked came from Cassie when she took my phone. I trusted her, and she betrayed me.”
“I want to say I’m surprised,” my father says, “but I’m not.” He opens his door now. “We have to tell your mother. I haven’t told her; she’s been avoiding the television and the papers since the picture was leaked.”
That he won’t keep this from her isn’t a surprise. “I know.” I get out and walk up the steps with him, bracing myself for what’s to come. Walking straight to the kitchen, I see Jessica sitting on the stool laughing with my mother, holding a glass of wine in front of her. She looks up at me when I stop by her chair. “Hey.” Her eyes go light again, and her smile brightens her whole face. I lean down and kiss her lips. Not a fast peck but nothing that I shouldn’t be doing in front of my parents. “You okay?”
“I am now,” she whispers and wraps her arm around my waist. For the rest of the night, we sit and talk with my parents, until I see her try to hide four yawns back to back.
“Okay,” I say, getting up, “we have to go.” I look over at Jessica, and she just nods as she joins me.
“I had the bag sent over to the house,” my father says when we walk toward the garage, “and had your golf cart brought over.” I knew without asking him he would do this. My mother hugs Jessica and makes plans to see her tomorrow. I kiss my parents, say goodbye, and then we head to my house. I’ve never brought anyone here. It’s mine and mine alone. A sanctuary of sorts. I had it built and chose everything, making it my hideout. The lights inside the house are on as well as the one next to the garage door. I press the button on the opener over my head and pull into the garage, parking next to my pickup.
“Let’s go,” I say, getting out of the golf cart and closing the garage door behind us. We walk up three stairs, leading into the mud room. “Do you want the tour now, or can we do this tomorrow?”