Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Because that’s the way it should be. There’s never been anything I wanted more than stability and love for him. “That’s my job.”
“You and I both know that’s not always the way it goes.” She raises a brow at me and I nod before she continues. “Okay, you’re getting the look on your face that says you’re ready to bolt, so I’m going to make this quick. I was going through all the final paperwork for Zane’s freshman year. The scholarships and financial aid help out a lot. And you were always so good about putting money away for his college fund. With the amount we saved for each year, we don’t come up too short, but I’d like to come up with a game plan now because there are living expenses as well. I know you’re against the idea of loans but—”
“No.” I put a stop to her train of thought right there. “He’s not starting his life in debt.” When my mom was broke, she opened credit cards in my name. I know what it’s like to be in debt before you even have the chance to get on your feet.
“It’s not going to be much, Jackson. And hell, we can help him pay them off afterward, but—”
“No,” I tell her again. “Plus, it’s the end of June. It’s likely too late for this coming semester, anyway. We’ll figure it out. I’ll continue to pick up extra hours, or hell, get a side job. It’s not as if I don’t have the time.”
“When do you plan on having a life?” she asks and then softly, “I went on a date the other night.”
“Good. I’m happy for you, but I don’t want to date. I have too much other shit to worry about.”
Zane and my mom to name a few. Still, Steph bringing up dating makes me think about Derek. I haven’t called him since we parted on the street a few weeks ago, and he hasn’t called me. I don’t much see the point, and I’m sure he doesn’t either. We have nothing in common other than the fact that we’d both like to fuck each other, but I’m sure as shit not going to fuck a guy who thinks he owes me.
How many other times has he had sex because he feels like he should have to?
How many times since the night I brought him home?
Fuck. Why am I thinking about this kid again?
“Jackson?” Steph says, making me realize she was likely speaking and I tuned it out.
“Go ahead.”
“I was just saying you don’t have to worry about everything so much. We’re in this together. Zane is a responsible boy. He doesn’t want his parents to kill themselves to take care of him. Hell, if we’d let him, he’d do this without our help at all. He’s very hardheaded. I’m not sure where he got it.” Steph winks at me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tease, but all I can think about is Zane’s college expenses, Mom, and now a twinky blond that I have no business worrying about.
“Just think about it, okay? Even if it’s for next year and we find another way to make this year work. There are options.”
“I’ll think about it.” But my mind is made up on the subject. This is what I’ve always wanted to be able to do for my child.
Steph rolls her eyes, tosses a ten on the table, which I force back into her purse before she leaves. I take another drink of my coffee, but now my thoughts are trapped in Hurricane Derek with the sexy fucking mouth and a tight little body that was hard as hell to turn down.
I picture him telling me he’ll give me what I need. He would have pulled his pants down and let me fuck him right there if I’d wanted to—which my dick certainly had—but I’d known better. Does he really think that’s all he is?
I’d wanted to lock his little ass inside my apartment until he woke the fuck up and realized that wasn’t how shit was supposed to happen.
I have no problems with fucking. Obviously, I’d hoped to get my first taste of a man that night, but there’s a difference between fucking because you want sex and fucking because you feel like you have to.
Christ. Why am I thinking about him again?
My phone buzzes against my hip and I pull it out. It’s a text from Frankie, my partner at work. Where you at, Grumpy Bear? Your ass is always early.
Fuck off, I text back.
Seriously, bro. Where are you?
I take a couple of swallows and finish my coffee before tossing some cash on the table for the bill and tip. Be there in five.
Get any ass lately? he asks, and I shake my head and shove my phone back into my pocket. I really need a fucking vacation, though with all the responsibilities on my plate, that sure as shit won’t be happening anytime soon.