Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“What about you, Dad? Will you take Night out?” Stormy asks. I can’t say I much like her tone though. I brought up Stormy’s attitude with my mother, and while she didn’t experience anything teenagerish with her while I was gone, she did say that Stormy’s demeanor changed about an hour before I arrived at the house.
It’s unsettling to know or even think that your daughter has an issue with you or maybe it’s not with me, but with parental guidance. The more I think about her life, the more I realize that Iris let Stormy do whatever the hell she wanted, and Stormy has to know that she’ll have rules that must be followed.
“Of course.” My back is still to them as I continue to load the suitcases.
“And Zara? What will she ride?” This time I look at Stormy and shrug.
“I’m sure Zara is busy doing her own thing, Stormy. It’s not like she’s attached to my hip.”
Stormy scoffs and finally opens the truck door and climbs inside. I try not to let her attitude rub me the wrong way, but it pisses me off. I take a deep breath and climb out of the back of the truck, tip the porter, and make my way to the driver’s side where Willow is standing.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Her face is pensive. Sad.
“I don’t want you and Stormy to fight.”
I crouch down so that I’m looking up at her. “Stormy and I are just butting heads right now. She’s mad because she’s here. Her life in California is important to her, but she can do that here too. Everything will be fine, Willow.”
“Okay,” she says, quietly.
I help her climb in and send Stormy a glare that should tell her that I’m not happy with her attitude. I get being angry and hurt because of the situation, but taking it out on me, Zara, or her sister won’t fly.
The drive home is fairly quiet with only Willow asking questions about new buildings that have been constructed since the last time she was here. She asked about going to her grandparents, which I thought was a bit odd considering she just left my mother until she told me that Pop told her they were going to go shooting. Hearing her say that solidified my decision to bring them both back to Tennessee. They need a place where they can grow up with their family around them.
As soon as we pull in, I half expect the front door to open. When it doesn’t, I don’t let it bother me too much, but damn if I didn’t want to see Zara there, looking domestic. Willow rushes to the front door and pushes it open. I’m hot on her heels with Stormy dragging feet behind me.
It’s Willow’s gasp that has my eyes opening wide. The living room is completely decorated with balloons, streamers, and a giant sign welcoming home Stormy & Willow that is strung over the hearth, along with the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air.
“What’s all this?” Stormy asks.
I shrug and look from her to Willow, who has a beaming smile on her face. “I don’t know.” Out of the corner of my eye, Zara appears. She looks shy and reserved as if she’s testing the waters.
“Zara,” Willow screeches as she runs toward her, only stopping when the two have collided with their arms wrapped around each other. If there was any hesitation in Willow’s acceptance of Zara being here, it’s definitely gone now.
“You remember Willow?” I ask, directing my question at Zara.
“I do. Did you have a nice flight? Are you hungry? I made French toast.”
“I’m not hungry,” Stormy says before she turns toward the hall that will lead to her bedroom. The three of us watch her go and all jump when the door slams shut.
“She’s PMSing,” Willow says. Zara and I both snicker at Willow’s assumption. “I’m starving.”
“Come on, let’s eat.” I motion for them both to follow me into the kitchen, where it’s decorated almost the same. I look quickly at Zara, who shrugs. I didn’t leave her a car, not that she couldn’t have one delivered to her, so I’m curious as to how she had all of this done. Barbara could’ve helped, but she still has reservations about Zara and me, and I can’t imagine she would extend services too much.
Zara takes over in the kitchen, plating up food for all of us. I half expect her to sit down at the table, but she disappears down the hall with a plate of food. I sit quietly and listen as she knocks on Stormy’s door. Surprisingly it opens, and a few words are exchanged, but I’m unable to decipher them.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her as she returns to the kitchen and sits down.