Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Wyatt comes down the steps dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. I grab my purse, and we head out. My eyes avoid looking at the house next door, but I have to look that way when I’m pulling out and see that his truck is gone. We spend most of the day out of the house, driving as far as I can to do our shopping and then stopping at the park so he can play before heading home for dinner. When I get home, his truck is back in its parking space, but after dinner while I’m cleaning the plates, I notice it gone again. I look down at the pots, letting my thoughts wander. I’m thinking about him when I shouldn’t be thinking about him.
I force Wyatt to take a shower and tuck him into bed before heading down and starting my dough for the following morning. I’m turning off the lights in the kitchen and headed up to bed when I see the headlights coming into the house. My stomach sinks when the car door opens, and Winston gets out. “Here we go.”
CHAPTER 5
Brady
I pull up on the street at the same time as I see Winston get out of his car, slamming his door with all his might. I shake my head. “Why the fuck is this happening to me?” I mutter as I turn into my driveway. Turning the truck off and getting out, I feel the tightness in my neck as I hear him pounding on the door. At least it’s not in the middle of the night this time, but still, showing up at eleven o’clock to bang on his ex-wife’s door is sad and pathetic.
I stand by my truck in the darkness, leaning against the back end of the cab as I watch him walk up the steps. He’s not stumbling this time, so I guess it’s a good thing. I’m just going to stand here and make sure everything is okay, I tell myself as his hand comes up, and he pounds as hard as he can on the door. “Harmony!” He shouts her name. “Get your ass back here.”
Back here, I think to myself. Has he already shown up here tonight? The door swings open before he can pound on it again. “Would you stop pounding on my door?” she hisses. Walking out and closing the door behind her, she’s probably trying to keep her son from waking up.
“Fuck you,” he snorts. I start to make my way to her front door again, knowing I should just call the sheriff and be done with it. Yet knowing how his family operates, he probably has them in his back pocket. “This has gone on long enough. Get your ass and your things and bring my son back home.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she declares. “Aren’t you tired of it yet? I’m not coming home, Winston. Not now, not ever. It’s over.” She folds her arms over her chest. “It has been over for a long time.”
“I should have listened to my mother,” he continues talking, “when she told me you were a sorry piece of ass.” My hands fist tightly, listening to his words, the way he’s talking to the mother of his child. “I felt sorry for you, and look at the trouble you’ve caused me.” I can see her face fall as she listens to what he says. “You were a poor, pathetic girl, and I saved you from that shithole!” he roars out the last part. “I should have left you there to rot, you good for nothing, piece of—”
“Are you fucking done?” I say before I can stop it, halting his spew of words. “Like, I haven’t been around for much, and even I’m sick and tired of this shit. And she’s been here less than a week.”
“Then get the fuck off my wife’s property and go to your house,” he snaps, and I look at Harmony.
“I thought I heard you divorced him.” I ignore him, looking over Winston and at Harmony.
“He won’t sign the papers,” she replies, nervously playing with her fingers in front of her.
“His name on the lease?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“So not only are you disturbing my peace,” I sneer at him, “but it also looks like you are trespassing.”
“Brady, why the fuck do you even care?” He turns to look at me. “Can’t you just fuck off already?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I finally say. “Like, can you just fuck off already?” He walks toward the steps. “She doesn’t want you here.”
“And what? She wants you here?” He snickers. “A low-class whiskey maker.”
“Jesus.” I shake my head. “What, are we in grade school that you are throwing insults? Be a fucking man and respect the mother of your child and get the fuck out of here.” I try not to roar out the last couple of words.