Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Annnd toss!” Deb yells once we’re in position.
Team Beacon makes fast work of it. Five feet. Ten. Fifteen. Those are the easy ones. Now come the scary little one-footers between fifteen and twenty. If we hit twenty, though, we only tie with the Hartleys, and we can’t have that. We want the win. Which means we need to beat not only the firefighters but also the bakers in order to move to second place.
At eighteen feet, my palms are so clammy I have to bend down and wipe them off in the sand.
At nineteen feet, I can’t feel my legs anymore.
The pressure is monumental. We’re tossing for twenty now. If we make it, we’ve tied the firefighters.
We make it.
“Annnd step!”
We take another step. If we succeed in this next sequence, we’ve knocked the firefighters out.
“Annnd toss!”
Zale tosses. I make the first catch.
I look at Genevieve. “Ready?”
She wipes her hands on the front of her denim shorts. “Ready.”
Very methodically, I throw underhanded in a perfect straight line. The balloon floats like a weightless feather into her waiting palms. She catches it, and a collective breath of relief travels through the crowd.
Gen turns to face Mac, features creased with deep concentration.
She tosses.
Mackenzie makes the catch.
“Twenty-one feet!” Deb declares.
“Holy shit!” Zale screams. “We did it! We did it!” He starts jumping around, thrusting up both arms and punching the air.
I choke out a laugh. “We’re not done!” I remind him. “We’re still playing.”
“Oh, right.”
“We have an actual shot at second place here,” Gen marvels.
And we do it. We make it to twenty-three feet before my balloon explodes at Gen’s feet. Doesn’t matter, though. We successfully edged out the bakers to finish second place in this final event.
We’ve beaten the Hartleys at Beach Games.
By one point.
That was really fucking close.
“What size thong do you need?” a smirking Gen asks the twins once our team celebration dies down. Her gaze shifts to Evan’s groin. “I don’t know if they make it in extra small, sweetie.”
“Extra large, you mean.” Growling, he lifts Gen off her feet as if he’s going to toss her, but instead brings her close. She wraps her legs around him and they start making out.
Rolling my eyes, I wander over to my dad, who now stands alone on the boardwalk. “Nice job!” he exclaims, giving me a quick side hug.
“Thanks. Where are the girls?” I ask, glancing around.
“They got bored of watching you throw balloons, so Nia took them to get ice cream.”
I nod. “Hey, so I should probably warn you—Mom and Grandma are going to be here any minute. They’re coming for the winners’ ceremony.”
“Really? Your mother?” He lifts a brow.
I smile ruefully. “I know, right? But … I haven’t said anything to you about this, mostly because I didn’t trust it at first, but Mom really has been making an effort since she got to town.”
“Has she?” I can’t quite discern his tone.
“She has. It’s been fun, actually.”
Dad is taken aback by that. I don’t blame him. I’ve never used the word fun in relation to my mother.
“Oh. Well. That’s great, Cass. I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself and that she’s putting in the effort.”
This time, I easily pick up on the skepticism lining his voice.
“Like I said, I didn’t entirely trust it. But she’s been good lately. Attentive. Funny. Forthcoming …” I hesitate for a beat. This probably isn’t the most appropriate time to take the conversation deeper, but I also suspect we likely won’t get another opportunity to discuss my mother, and so the words just slip out. “She told me about the miscarriage.”
Dad lurches as if I struck him. “She did?”
“Yes.” My palms are sweaty again. Dad and I rarely discuss anything this sensitive, so I’m unsure how to navigate it. “I’m glad she did. It made me understand her better, you know? Why she fought you so hard for custody. I thought she was trying to keep you away from me, but I guess she was trying to keep me close after her loss. So … yeah. I’m grateful that she told me.”
“Yes. Well.” His expression shutters, but not before I glimpse a flash of anger.
“Cassie!”
I turn in time to see my sisters racing toward me. Nia trails after them, wearing brown sandals and a loose-fitting sleeveless dress.
“Wanna know what Pierre did today?” Roxy exclaims. “He farted!”
The girls proceed to double over in high-pitched laughter, while their mother grimaces.
“It was very unpleasant,” Nia says stiffly.
I glance at Dad. “You didn’t warn them about the whole stinkpot thing?”
“Clayton?” growls his wife.
“Thanks, Cass. Thanks a lot.”
I snicker. “Hey, you knew going into this purchase that if they handled him too roughly he’d unleash a fart attack.”
“Fart attack!” Mo squeals, and the girls start skipping around shouting those two words over and over again. A resigned Nia offers an apologetic smile to all the people who turn to stare at us.