Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
A well of emotions rises in my chest as I wave at him. He gives me a nod, dragging his gaze across the front porch, and then pulls up his driveway at the end of the lane.
“You really still are the same ten-year-old little girl who I met back then,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You’re twenty-five, Sara. You’re living with a man who I didn’t know you were even seeing until last week. You’re unemployed. Your belongings are in my garage.”
“I’ll get them.”
“Doesn’t this embarrass you?” she asks, the words growing louder. “Do you have any sense of humility at all? Do these poor people understand who they’re dealing with here?”
The door squeaks behind me. Banks. Tears fill my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. Despite my practiced ability to hold my emotions, this time it’s a struggle.
I don’t want my little sister going home with this woman. I also don’t want to fight with Sabrina. Worst of all, I don’t want Banks witnessing this dysfunction, and Foxx and Jess watching as I bring all of this drama to their brother’s doorstep. Literally.
“You are tainting my child,” she sneers. “I shouldn’t have let you around. I’ve been entirely too nice to you.”
“And I’ve been entirely too nice to you by letting you stand out here for this long,” Banks says, putting his arm around my shoulders. “You need to leave. Now.”
His eyes blaze with a fire I’ve never seen in them before. I didn’t even see this the night in the bar that ended with his arrest.
My heart aches for my sister, for me, for Sabrina—and for Banks for having to deal with this.
“Oh, you have someone fighting your battles for you, huh?” Sabrina says smugly.
“Sara can take care of herself,” Banks says. “I’m pretty sure you taught her the necessity for that.”
“You don’t know shit.”
Banks grins. “I know that you aren’t going to roll up to my house and disrespect her. I know you better not take that little girl home and treat her like this.”
“She’s my child. You stay the hell out of that conversation.”
“Just some friendly advice.”
Sabrina clenches her fists at her sides, and she walks backward down the sidewalk. “Your shit will be at the end of my driveway. Get it before morning or it’s going in the garbage.”
He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. I wave at Bethany, hiccupping back a sob, as they speed off.
My emotions are all over the place, and I don’t know where to start to pick them apart. All I know is that they’re the tangled, messy web that I work really hard to avoid.
I’ve been sliced wide open, the ugliness inside me spilling out for everyone to see … and every Carmichael on this street has watched my mortification. Not sure how things could get worse.
“Doesn’t this embarrass you? Do you have any sense of humility at all? Do these poor people understand who they’re dealing with here?”
“Let’s go,” Banks says, kissing me again.
“Where?”
“I’ll put a pizza in the oven while you get a bath.”
I look up at him and take him in. Handsome face. Kind eyes. Genuine empathy.
He nudges me toward the door. “It’s so much easier not having to walk across the street to get a frozen pizza. Who knew?”
Even though I don’t feel like smiling, I can’t help it. Because it’s Banks—the man who not only stood up for me but stood by me. The man who was kind to a little girl he doesn’t know, and firm to a woman he’d naturally despise. And he did it all with grace and class.
"Sara can take care of herself. I’m pretty sure you taught her the necessity for that … I know that you aren’t going to roll up to my house and disrespect her.”
The man who is fierce yet gentle, strong yet kind.
The man who I think I’ve fallen in love with.
25
Banks
“Open up.” I smirk, dangling a piece of pizza over the bathtub. “I’m not usually talking about pizza when I say that.”
Sara gives me a small smile. I’ll take it.
She’s been quiet since the whole Sabrina bullshit went down an hour ago. I don’t blame her at all. I have no idea what it would be like to have someone talk so much shit to you—intentionally tear you down and hitting you where they know your wounds lie—and then have to pick up the pieces and go on.
I’d probably knock them out. Not that it would help because, if it would, I would’ve grabbed the guy accompanying Sabrina and put him to sleep.
That’s the thing—I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t know how to fix it. That makes me feel like a failure.
Sara leans up and bites the tiniest end of the pizza.
“How are you doing?” I ask her, putting the pizza back on the plate.