Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
When Hennessey had called me in a panic, I’d solved it all by telling her that she needed to move in with me.
At first, she’d been reluctant, but once I’d talked her around later that night, she’d come to realize that she wanted to live at her own house alone about as much as I wanted to live at my house alone.
Now, twelve hours later, my living room was filled with not only power tools and half-finished projects, but also floor to ceiling boxes.
I pushed through the front door, smiling when a wall of garlic hit me like a battering ram.
Please let it be her lasagna. Please let it be her lasagna. I chanted to myself as I skirted past the boxes that were now spilling into the hallway, making my way to the kitchen to find both my Grams and Hennessey sitting at what was now Hennessy’s and my dining room table, spreading what looked to be garlic butter onto slices of toast.
They both looked up at the same time, and two large smiles graced their faces.
“I invited your grandmother over,” Hennessy said, gesturing to Grams. “She showed me how to make your favorite dish.”
I grinned. “I can see.”
“She also shared a secret with me.”
My brows rose.
“What’s that?”
“She said that your feet used to be ticklish, as well as the soft skin right behind your knees.” Hennessy turned toward me. “Can we test that out really quick?”
I shook my head, hopefully showing her that I wasn’t scared of her and her tickles. Though, just thinking about someone touching me behind the knee—even Hennessy—was enough to make me start sweating.
It wasn’t that I was ticklish. It was because I was fucking freaked out by it.
Though, it wouldn’t do to tell her that. She’d use it against me.
“You ladies need to find something else to talk about,” I informed them as I walked into the kitchen and reached into the fridge for a beer. “Oh, and also. The new neighbor is some weird chick that tried to ask me to take her tire off. With her husband standing right there.”
Hennessy snickered.
“That’s really not nice to classify them as weird just because someone asked you to help. You’re a big, strapping boy. It’s plain to anyone with eyes that you can likely do things a whole lot better than they can.”
I rolled my eyes.
My grandmother was such a soft soul.
Speaking of which…
“Grams, did you go visit someone in jail today that you weren’t supposed to?”
Grams shrugged, and Hennessy turned curious eyes from me to Grams.
“Who did you go….oh. How was he?”
Her father was an ass, and I couldn’t understand why either one of them cared.
It was ironic as hell, though, that Reverend—who wasn’t a reverend in town any longer—had to go to anger management classes.
He’d be spending two years in jail, too.
After being arrested for pulling a gun on me—thanks to the multiple witnesses—IE the entire fucking congregation—witnessing his break down, there wasn’t a shortage of stories that pointed their finger at Hanes.
He was going to be serving another year and eleven months in that place, with the possibility of four more years if he didn’t watch his step. While he was in there, he was informed he’d be seeing the prison psychologist, who’d help him get his anger under control.
“He was fine, dear,” Grams said. “He was angry, though, just like he was last week.”
I snorted.
“You’re my grandmother. He doesn’t like me at all.” I paused. “So it’s only understandable that he’d do the same thing to you that he did to me, and still does to me.”
Grams smiled.
“Reverend Hanes was supposed to marry your momma, and then you came along.”
My mouth fell open.
“What?”
“What?” Hennessy echoed.
Grams nodded.
“Needless to say, he’s never liked you all that much because you signaled the end of his relationship with her.”
“Damn,” I said.
Finally knowing the reason he disliked me all these years was actually quite freeing.
“Well, I guess he did have a good reason…” I muttered.
“That’s not a good reason,” Hennessy snapped. “In fact, it’s a pretty freakin’ bad one.”
My heart warmed at her words.
“And you, my dear, are the reason they didn’t get married the second time.”
My mouth fell open.
“What?”
Grams nodded, seriousness written all over her face.
“When your father left, Tate, your mother and Reverend Hanes got back together. Only, a week or two later, Hennessy’s mother found out she was pregnant with Hennessy, and the entire process started all over again.”
I just shook my head.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
***
As my Grams left that night, she stopped on the walkway leading to her car and turned.
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver pouch.
“I know that you haven’t asked, and you never intended to ask since you seem to think that I need it, but I want you to use this when the time is right.”