Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Thinking about his mess kept my mind off hers, at least until school was over for the day. “Where are you taking me?” I’d sent the twins home with Lance and headed in the opposite direction. I took her hand and rested it on my thigh as I drove. “It’s a surprise, trust me; you’re going to like it.” I kissed her fingers and put her hand back as we drove in silence for the next half hour.
She still didn’t know where we were until the guy handed me the keys and led us to the little unit that stood among a row of others that all looked alike. I opened the door and stepped back so she could see in. “Gabriel, this is….”
“Yes, it’s your mom’s stuff.” I let her go in alone after making sure the place was secure while my shadows circled the place, trying to be inconspicuous.
I watched from the doorway as she walked through the storage unit, touching things here and there. The place was packed neatly; in fact, it looked like a room in someone’s home that had been transported. I stayed put, giving her space until I saw the first tear fall. “It’s okay; I’ve got you.” I let her cry it out as she held onto some trinket that belonged to her mom.
Each sob was like a knife in the gut for me, and I was ready to get her out of there, berating myself for not thinking it through, and then she pulled herself together. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just seeing her things. I thought all this stuff was gone. I remember playing with these things; mom used to let me play dress-up. She bought them especially for us to play.”
It was a string of beads like the ones you’d find on any pushcart in Tijuana, a whole jewelry box full of differing colors. I stood with her while she relived the moments she’d spent with the mother she’d lost. She wiped her nose in my shirt, and I mock complained because it made her laugh.
“I’ll be right by the door if you need me, okay.”
“No, don’t leave, stay here.”
“Okay, I’ll stay.” She went back to perusing, picking up random things here and there with me following along but keeping my distance. We reached the other side of the room, which had been hidden from view, and there was a chair sitting in the middle of the room facing a wall where a life-size portrait of her mother hung. I guess that’s where Felix sits when he comes here.
“I’ll get it.” I stepped into her space only when she tried to lift the thing down from its place on the wall because it’s almost as big as she is.
I thought she just wanted a closer look, but she turned and headed for the door, barely able to carry the almost four-foot frame. “You’re taking this?”
“Yes!” I started to ask about her dad coming here and finding it gone, but my girl had gone from zero to one-twenty again. She didn’t say a word, but her face said plenty; she was pissed.
“You mind telling me why you’re upset?”
“I almost forgot what my mother looked like. He removed this because of Becky, but he got to come here and see it whenever he liked. He erased her to please that, that….” She growled or grunted. I’m not sure which one, and I wasn’t about to say shit. She was in a mood.
“Makes sense; you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”
“No, I’ll come back another time and clear it out without telling him too.” Oookay.
“No problem.” I had to lower the backseat to fit it in, and then we were off. I could feel her anger in the hand I held but didn’t say anything to sway her, she has a right to her feelings, but her next request when we got back to town made me wary.
“You want to go to your house?” She gave me the don’t make me repeat myself look, and I wondered how the hell my sisters had rubbed off on her so quickly. If she put those glares into words, my ass would be singed. “Okay, we’ll go to your house.” I wasn’t planning on beating Victoria’s ass today, but you learn to roll with the punches when you’re a Russo.
I played wingman once we got there; I’m just here to do what she wants. “Bring the portrait.” Uh-oh! I did as she asked and followed her to the door. Her dad answered with a look of surprise on his face. “Gia, why…?” He didn’t get to say anything else because she brushed by him. She walked into the living room and dragged a side chair over to the mantle, where a picture of Becky hung.