Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
A little bubble of laughter burst past my lips, and Cian turned to me with a look of betrayal.
“The kid calls it like he smells it,” my dad said easily, clearly enjoying the interaction.
Aoife leaned to the side and lifted her coffee to her lips, gulping the entire thing down in one go.
“You’re lucky I added milk, you lunatic,” Cian said, his eyes wide with horror. “That coffee is hot.”
“No time,” Aoife replied with a shrug. She got to her feet, still holding Sean. “We need to shower.”
We all watched as she walked to her room and disappeared inside.
“Your ma used to bring you guys in the shower with her,” my dad said quietly, smiling. “One time Rumi slipped and flipped ass over tea kettle. She came running out carrying him, both of ’em stark ass naked and cryin’.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Once we realized he was more shocked than hurt, it was fuckin’ hilarious.” Dad shrugged. “Good memories.”
“I doubt Mom would agree with you.”
He shrugged again. “Welp!” He clapped his hands together. “Now that Cian’s up, it’s time for me to go find my wife.”
“Thanks for doin’ that,” Cian said quietly.
“No problem,” my dad replied with a nod. “Myla, you comin’ with me?”
“Uh—” I looked back and forth between him and Cian. “Sure.”
“Ashley, it was good to see you,” Dad said with a smile. “Aisling, always a pleasure—even if you look like a zombie.”
“Jesus Christ, Dad!” I hissed in embarrassment.
Aisling laughed. “You look worse than me, old man.”
Dad winked at her.
“You’re a fucking menace,” I spat, waving him toward the front door.
I waved at Aisling and Ashley, too mortified to even say goodbye as I hurried after him. I’d grown up with my parents saying whatever the hell they wanted whenever the hell they wanted, and I’d thought that I’d grown past the point of being embarrassed by them—but that clearly wasn’t the case because my face was burning.
“Hey,” Cian said, catching me by the waist as I leaned down to grab my purse and Aunt Rose’s helmet off the floor behind the couch.
“I cannot believe he said that,” I mumbled, glaring at Cian. “Oh my god.”
“Did you see her face?” he asked softly, his lips tipping up at the corners. “Ash thought it was funny.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“The joke wasn’t meant for you.”
“Why are you trying to calm me down when I’m not even pissed at you?”
“Hell if I know.”
“I have to go to the hotel and shower.”
“Probably a good idea since your hair smells like armpit.”
“You said it didn’t!”
“Well…”
“It’s your armpit.”
Cian laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thanks for comin’ with me last night.”
“Of course,” I replied, smiling back. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?”
He reached out and cupped the back of my head, pulling me toward him so he could press his lips to my forehead. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll let you know where I’m at.”
“Are you going back to the hospital?” I asked, pulling away.
“Probably.”
“Okay.”
He walked me to the door and stood just inside as I jogged down the porch steps, pulling on the helmet as I went. My dad was already on his bike and started it up as soon as I’d climbed on behind him. Moments later, we were rolling down the driveway and pulling out onto the street.
The hospital wasn’t far from Aoife and Richie’s house, and the motel Brenna had found for us was directly across the street, so it only took a few minutes before we were parking again next to a row of bikes.
A whole row of rooms along the upstairs walkway were open, and I could hear familiar voices drifting out of them.
“I’m guessing we’re upstairs,” I mused as I waited for dad to get off the bike.
He looked up at the rooms and grimaced. “They needed a little airin’ out. They smelled like no one had been in ’em for about forty years.”
“Yum,” I muttered as I followed him toward the stairwell. “I can’t believe you said that to Aisling.”
Dad paused halfway up the stairs and turned his head to look at me. “You think she would’ve appreciated it more if I woulda told her how sorry I was that some sick bastard fucked up her face?” he asked curiously.
I winced.
“Yeah.”
He turned and kept walking. “That girl’s puttin’ on a brave face. She don’t want anyone babyin’ her or showin’ a hint of compassion. I get that. But I wasn’t about to walk outta that house without acknowledgin’ that I saw what was done to her.”
“Okay, Dad,” I said softly.
“Don’t you ever pretend that you don’t see the bad shit in this world,” Dad ordered, waiting for me at the top step. “That’s when it wins.”
“I won’t.”
“I know you won’t,” he said, guiding me toward our row of rooms with a hand on my back. “Now go brush your hair. You look like you got caught in a wind tunnel.”