Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I ignored everyone else in the room as I found HGTV, happy to see that one of my favorite shows was on.
What I wasn’t happy to see was that Casten followed me inside.
“That’s my chair,” Casten began.
His dog took a seat near my feet and laid her scarred head on my knees.
I petted her gently, becoming more and more aware of the pain in my belly, which really starting to pulse now.
“Yeah, I don’t feel well,” I told him.
It wasn’t a lie.
He narrowed his eyes.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he grumbled, looking like he really didn’t want to ask me what he wanted to ask me.
“Okay,” I waited, scratching behind the dog’s head.
“My mom’s getting married this weekend,” he kept his eyes pointed down at me.
I nodded. “I heard. Congratulations.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to see if you’d join me.”
I blinked.
“Join you for what?” I asked.
“As my date.” He looked like those words were ripped out of him.
“Ummm,” I hesitated. “Okay?”
He nodded, but when he would’ve said something more, the blonde from earlier wrapped her arms around him from behind.
“There you are,” she cooed. “What are you doing in here…watching this?”
She looked like she wanted to scrub her hands at the idea of watching anything to do with home renovation.
I happened to love Yard Crashers, though.
“Not anything you need to be concerned about,” he patted her hand.
He made no effort to remove her, though.
Ten seconds after he asked me to go to a wedding with him, and he was letting some other woman hang all over him.
My stomach started to roll.
I stood up at that thought, thinking now would be a good time to go before I threw up all over his feet.
He’d probably throw me out then.
Then uninvite me.
“Where are you going?” Casten asked as I turned my back on him and Bimbo Boobs.
I waved at him.
“My stomach hurts,” I told him truthfully.
He looked like he wanted to call me a liar, but I really was on the verge of puking, so I hurried out the door without another word to anyone, not even my sister.
***
Casten
“Well, that backfired,” I muttered to myself as I watched Tasha peel rubber in her haste to get out of my house.
“Don’t fuck her head up,” Mig said from behind me.
I looked at him.
“I’m not going to fuck with her head,” I replied defensively.
I didn’t sound convincing, even to myself.
I’d never intended to fuck with her head, and I wasn’t really sure why I’d done what I had tonight.
Mostly, it was because I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about me.
Sure, I’d asked her out to the wedding, but I didn’t want her to think that we were going as anything other than friends.
But the longer I thought about it, the more concerned I became.
It was two hours later when I finally decided that I had to see her…to apologize.
I didn’t want her to think I was a complete dick.
With that last thought in my head, I got up and hurried out the door.
“Where are you going?” Ridley called out as he moved up the front lawn to my house.
I waved at him.
“Be back.”
I had to take my old beater Chevy ¾ Ton since it was the only thing not blocked in, and until I was reminded the moment I got in it that I needed to have the transmission worked on.
She drove, though, which was all that I needed at that point in time.
Tasha’s loft apartment over the bar wasn’t in my favorite part of town.
Earlier in the week, I’d gone over there to tell her about her car and had barely contained my fury when I realized what kind of shitty locks she had.
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if any one of the drunks from downstairs wanted up here, it wouldn’t take more than a boot to the door to get through.
But as I climbed her outside stairs, I realized that the boot to the door wouldn’t be necessary if she left the goddamned door unlocked as she had when she’d gotten home.
I twisted the knob, much to my annoyance, and went inside.
I froze when I heard crying.
“Tasha?” I called loudly.
“In here,” she whimpered softly.
I followed the sounds of her quiet sobs and froze when I saw her in a tight ball on the bathroom floor.
“What’s wrong?” I dropped down to my knees beside her.
“I don’t know. Stomach hurts. Bad,” she whispered, pain filling her voice.
“Tell me what you’re feeling. How does it hurt?” I pushed.
“It’s like everything is all wrenched up inside. My whole belly feels like a dull throb,” she croaked. “And I can’t stop throwing up.”
I didn’t hesitate to scoop her up.
She felt light in my arms, and the way her head lolled limply against my chest let me know just how not alright she was.