Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
“You get used to it,” he replied easily. “Though, yeah, some of them test your patience. It’s worth it when you see them grow and start taking it seriously.”
“Spoken like a true mentor,” Liza teased. “Bet you’re a favorite, huh?”
Ryan smirked. “I try.”
After the plates were cleared and everyone started to relax, Daniella leaned back in her chair, swirling her half-empty glass.
“Alright, we’ve got options for after this amazing meal. More alcohol, obviously, and a game. Something fun.”
“Like what?” Cherish asked, arching a brow as she took a sip of her drink.
“Let’s see... Uno? That always gets heated. Or Pictionary—though Naija would absolutely crush us with her drawing skills. Or,” she paused dramatically, “we go for Bones.”
“Bones?” Gabe tilted his head, his brow furrowing.
“Dominoes,” Liza clarified with a soft laugh. “She just likes stirring the pot.”
“It’s a classic!” Daniella defended. “And there’s nothing like slamming down a winning piece in someone’s face.”
“Except maybe Scrabble,” Naija added. “Though that one gets personal. The arguments over what counts as a word? Brutal.”
“Too much thinking,” Cherish objected. “We’re supposed to be relaxing, not debating the dictionary.”
“I think Uno then,” Jason suggested. “It’s fast, easy, and guaranteed to ruin friendships.”
Daniella pointed her finger at him like she’d just won the lottery. “Yes! That’s exactly the vibe I’m going for.”
“Calm down, bitch,” Liza laughed.
“I’m good with Uno,” I said, shrugging. “But don’t blame me when I hit someone with a stack of Draw Fours.”
“Oh, we’re blaming you already,” Ryan countered, flashing me a grin. “I’m in.”
Naija nodded. “Same. Uno it is, but if someone skips me, it’s on sight.”
“Uno and liquor?” Cherish shook her head, with a laugh. “This is going to end in disaster.”
“And that’s exactly the point,” Daniella replied, smug as ever.
As the laughter died down and everyone started shuffling around the table, I pushed back my chair, stretching lazily.
“Before I get too drunk to remember, I need to take Moose out,” I announced. “He comes first.”
Liza grinned at me and cooed, “Such a good mommy.”
“I do try my best.” I moved from the room and hunted down his leash, him trotting after me. His tail wagged furiously as I clipped it onto his collar. “Alright, big guy let’s go,” I murmured, heading toward the rear glass doors of the enclosed porch.
The outside lights were already on, casting a soft glow over the yard. The air was crisp, biting at my exposed skin as I stepped outside, closing the door behind us. I rubbed my arms through my sweater, grateful I’d kept it on. Moose trotted out ahead, sniffing around the manicured grass like he owned the place.
The yard was beautifully landscaped, with flowers and shrubs lining the edges, but beyond that was nothing but dense woods. The house stood in isolation, surrounded by the dark embrace of the woods, perfect for the quiet weekend. Now that night had fallen, the seclusion went from serene to unsettling.
The chilled air sobered me slightly as I kept pace with Moose. His rounded ears perked up near a cluster of bushes, his posture suddenly alert. I followed his gaze toward the tree line, my stomach knotting. The stillness around us seemed unnatural, the kind of silence that pressed in on you, amplifying every tiny sound. I heard a faint snap, twigs breaking underfoot. The noise was distant, but it was enough to send a chill racing down my spine.
Moose stiffened, his muscular frame going rigid as his stub of a tail lowered. His body vibrated with tension, and I felt my own heartbeat spike in response.
“Don’t even think about it,” I whispered tightening my grip on his collar. He was well-trained, but he was still a dog. If something caught his attention, he could drag my ass straight into the woods without a second thought. The last thing I needed was to stumble after him, drunk and half-blind, into the dark.
I scanned the tree line again.
Shadows danced with the faint sway of branches in the breeze, but nothing moved. Nothing that I could see, yet the prickling sensation along my neck refused to go away. Moose let out a low growl, the sound barely audible. I tugged gently at his leash,
“Come on. Let’s go back inside.”
He didn’t budge. His body stayed taut, his gaze fixed on the same dark patch of forest as if he could see something I couldn’t. My eyes darted back to the tree line, desperate to find what had set him off. A rustle came, softer this time. I tightened my grip on Moose’s leash.
“Moose,” I whispered, my voice barely steady. “Let’s go. Now.”
This time, he obeyed, though his steps were reluctant, his attention still trained on the trees. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone or something was watching us. My hands trembled slightly as I led him back toward the house, the porch light casting a pale glow ahead of us.