Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
No wonder Caspian was such an entitled little prick when he’d grown up with two loving parents, abundant food, money, and a TV larger than Gunner’s bedroom window. All this was so very unlike the childhood filled with yelling and violence Gunner had endured.
Whether this was a dream or not, Gunner would be taking advantage of it for as long as it lasted. He would have started off by finding out how much spunk that cute dick produced if it wasn’t for the fact that Dad might come back if he didn’t hurry.
He got out of bed, found black slippers that fit Caspian’s small feet perfectly, and peeked into a hallway that intimidated him with its elegance. Stretching endlessly from the window by Caspian’s door, it belonged in one of the grand, old-fashioned houses featured in every meet-the-parents movie. The wooden floor had no scratches in sight, and fresh flowers in a vase on a side table perfumed the air.
As he made himself move along the two rows of doors, his gaze locked on picture frames hung on the way to the staircase. Some featured larger family gatherings, but most were only of Caspian, his dad, and a plump blonde woman, who was surely Caspian’s mother. Images from a happy childhood flashed in front of Gunner’s eyes like stills from a cartoon that didn’t reflect his own reality.
Caspian and his parents sitting by the Christmas tree in matching pajamas and surrounded by piles of gifts. On a trip to Disney World. Making s’mores by a campfire. A graduation photo with proud Mom and Dad.
Gunner didn’t get to finish high school, but now that he looked at Caspian’s adorable pout he almost wished he’d been there just to watch Caspian receive his diploma.
“Caspian! Come on! We’re leaving for work soon!” A female voice resounded from below, so he peeled his gaze away from the life he could never dream of having, and padded down the stairs that were wider than his bathroom.
The stairs spat him out into a large hallway featuring a massive mirror in a wooden frame carved into a complex tangle of fruit and leaves, but the scent of pancakes drew him straight to the kitchen, which looked suspiciously similar to the one in a suburban villa he’d broke into with the guys two months prior.
“Good morning, mother,” he said, but when her brows rose, he figured this wasn’t the way Caspian would address her. “I mean, Mom.” Maybe silence was the key until he got his bearings.
Three pendant lamps hung above a massive kitchen island with shelves full of cookbooks on one end and a row of four bar stools standing along the outer edge. The dominant color of the cupboards was a pristine shade of white, but the warm hue of the wooden floor, and the little herb garden set up on shelves by the window made it cozy despite the restaurant-sized cooker and an equally large hood above.
“Go on now, sit. I made you coffee,” Caspian’s mom said, adjusting the pink apron that protected her neat blue dress as she flipped one of the pancakes with a spatula. Even while cooking, she was the epitome of understated elegance with makeup that was barely visible and hair styled into a roll at the back of her head. She couldn’t have looked more different from the women in Gunner’s life.
After a moment of hesitation, he took the seat next to his new father, still dazed by the unfamiliarity of it all. This strange morning had to be part of some odd dream, even if it didn’t feel like one, but he could go with it. Especially since fresh pancakes were on the menu.
Several bowls of toppings to choose from stood in front of them next to chocolate, caramel, and strawberry syrups. And it wasn’t cheap shit either. Each product had the kind of classy branding that would have told Gunner he couldn’t afford it without the need to check the price.
“Must have been a rowdy party with your friends last night,” Fake Mom said and even winked at him as if they were in on the same joke. “Don’t make that face. I work in event planning, honey. I see things.”
Gunner stared at the selection of fruit, sprinkles and sauces he could add to the pancake Fake Mom put on his plate, and wondered if this was how Caspian ate each day. Since for some inexplicable reason Gunner got to experience this breakfast, he’d enjoy himself and forget that cereal or sandwiches purchased at the gas station were his usual morning fare.
He topped the pancake with bananas, chocolate chips, and strawberry jam with huge chunks of fruit, then finished his edible artwork with a dollop of whipped cream and caramel before digging in.
Fake Dad laughed. “Someone’s got an appetite for once.”