Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I held up a hand to Lydia. “It was nice seeing you again.”
“You too!” She bobbed her head up and down, a hand in the air. “Let’s catch up another time. I’d love to hear how you’re doing.”
“Mom!” Nolan whined, taking my hand, and switching sides to pull me along. “Let’s go. Hurry.”
“Uh…” I looked between her and Lydia. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Homecoming!” Lydia shouted, just as we were swallowed by a group of people. As soon as we were out of sight, Nolan stopped dragging me. “Oh thank God.”
“What?”
She was peering behind me, a fierce frown on her face. I looked too, not seeing anything in particular. “Honey.” I stepped close to her, smoothing my hands down the sides of her face. “What was it that you needed to show me?”
“Oh. Nothing.” She dropped my hand and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I just didn’t want you around that woman. She’s not good people.”
“What? Lydia?”
Nolan shrugged. “I don’t know her name, just know she’s not good people. She’s one of those people who say one thing, but mean something else, and the something else is always not good for you. Steer clear of her and people like her.” Her body tightened, and she tipped her head back again. “Don’t worry, Mom. She keeps her not-nice side hidden, but I’ll teach you how to see that. You can still learn.” She ripped herself away from me, running off. “Dad!”
I shook my head and checked to make sure Nolan was at her dad’s side. He was heading my way with two beers and some food.
Nolan was jumping around him, poking at him. When he gave her a nod, she reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of candy.
I scowled.
He met my gaze and smirked. Smartass. But I couldn’t stop from grinning. He was not the disciplinarian parent. Every one of the kids knew to go to him if they wanted something. He was the softie.
Another arm moved around my waist, and I jolted before recognizing my son. He hugged me the way his twin had been moments before, scooting under my arm, watching Mason and Nolan heading our way.
“Word’s out, I see,” he mumbled.
I looked down. How did my eighth-grade son sound so world weary and tired. I hugged him to me. “You okay, sweetie?”
He watched as a few kids ran up to Mason, asking for autographs.
Mason indulged. He generally tried to be accommodating until we needed to find our seats for the game. He was good at drawing a boundary. He’d learned how to handle his fans long ago. The kids sometimes got tired of it, but Mason was a good dad.
Still, I’d not heard this from Nash before. I tipped his head up to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Nash,” I warned.
He blinked and his gaze cleared. He smiled up at me, looking genuine. “I’m good, Mom.”
“Will you tell me later?”
He searched my gaze, probably seeing that I wasn’t going to let this go.
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah.”
I held up my pinkie. “Promise?”
He snorted, but grinned. He wrapped his pinkie with mine and we shook. “Promise.” He stepped aside, looking back at Mason and Nolan. One of his hands went to his hip. “It’s not a big deal, Mom. Just…there’s a lot of kids who are talking about him.”
“What are they saying?”
He shook his head, and his usual excitement gleamed back at me. He loved football. Loved playing it.
I tugged on his Fallen Crest Academy football shirt. “How was your practice?” He’d made the junior varsity, which was early for someone in his grade. They hadn’t had a game today.
“It was good.” He yawned, looking around. “Oh!” His eyes rounded. “My coach wants to talk to you and Dad after the game tonight.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “What’d you do?”
A ghost of a smile flashed over his face. “Mom.”
I grinned back. He was like me in some ways, but if you pissed him off, he turned Mason in zero-point-two seconds. People thought he was easy going, and mostly he was. He and Nolan were good kids, but I knew my son had a vicious streak. I’d witnessed it. The other kids didn’t seem wary of him so far, but it would happen. That’s how it had been before. The other boys learned not to mess with Nash. It started happening as early as second grade. I’d been tense as he grew up, worried about whether I should say something or step in, because I didn’t want him to hurt another kid. But no parent ever came to me about it. Then one night Nolan had whispered in my ear that I didn’t need to worry about it. “He only does something if someone is trying to mess with me or him,” she’d said. “And he’s smart, Mom. He’s better at handling bullies than Maddy is.” She had rolled her eyes. “We both are.”