Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 131916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
She waved her glass of wine in my direction. “I’m going to polish this off and then I think I’m going to go upstairs and read. I need something to get my mind off things.”
“Go ahead and polish mine off, too.” I shot her a grin.
She pressed her fingers to her chest. “And here I thought I was the world’s best bestie. I think that title might actually belong to you.”
“It’s the little things,” I told her.
She laughed a soft laugh. “God, I really love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered, then I took Nolan’s hand and let him lead me upstairs.
He rambled nonstop the entire time, telling me all about the great time he’d had the night before.
“And Gage is already going to be eight and Juni Bee is seven.” Then he frowned as he looked up at me with his index finger pressed to his chin. “Wait a minute…I’m not for sure because I can’t even remember how many birthday parties I’ve been to but I think that’s pretty right.”
A soft laugh rippled out of me as I followed him into the bathroom that was off the same side of the hall as his room. He started peeling off his clothes while I ran the water, making sure it was warm but not too hot.
“I like lots of bubbles, Miss Charleigh. All the way up to my chin. It’s the pink bottle because it smells like bubble gum, and I love bubble gum. Do you love bubble gum?”
Amusement made its way through the worry. “I haven’t had any bubble gum in a long time, but if I remember right, I think I do.”
I tipped over the bottle of bubbles and squeezed it beneath the rush of water from the faucet.
The scent of bubble gum filled the room.
Nolan was not kidding.
“Well, we should probably get you some because it’s really good if we have the things we love.” Without warning, he hopped into the tub. He splashed a giant wave of water over the side, and his blue eyes went ridiculously wide. “Oops. I think I got the floor wet.”
I couldn’t stop my giggle, and I stood so I could grab a towel to sop it up, then I climbed back onto my knees at the side of the tub. The water rose, and the bubbles gathered and grew.
“There, all the way to your chin.” I dabbed a bit of suds onto his dimpled chin. “I think it’s because you want to look like Santa Claus.”
Laughing, he kicked his feet and splashed more water over the side. “Santa Claus is my favorite, and he’s probably a good guy to want to be. Like my dad except my dad doesn’t got no white beard.”
My spirit clutched. Because I knew he was. I knew his father was a really good guy while being so thoroughly bad.
“Okay, let’s get that hair wet,” I told him. I edged up high on my knees so I could reach him, and I slipped an arm under his back to support him while I dunked him without getting water and suds in his eyes. Then I grabbed the shampoo bottle that also was bubble gum scented and squeezed a dollop onto his head.
His head was tipped back, and he was beaming up at me as I massaged it into his hair.
Only I frowned when color started staining the suds.
A dark, dark brown. Almost black.
I pulled my hands away, staring at them and wondering if I was imagining things. I would have chalked it up to dirt, but this was…
My brow pinched.
Hair dye.
It was fresh hair dye.
I’d dyed my own hair enough times to recognize exactly what it was.
I was frozen, staring at it in confusion. Bewildered and perplexed. Though something more consequential nagged at the back of my mind.
“Is your…hair dyed?” The question cracked.
“Oh, yep! My Daddy-O made my hair all better a couple days ago, and that always happens and gets my water all dirty, but don’t worry, Miss Charleigh, after one more bath, it’s all gone and then I’ll be all clean again.”
He smacked his hands against the surface of the water, sending droplets splattering onto my shirt and arms.
“Your dad…dyes your hair?” I pushed out on a whisper. The words were laden, as if the disorientation made it difficult to speak.
“He says he likes it really, really dark so it can be just like his, and that’s good because I really want to look like him and not Santa Claus like you thought.”
He cracked up like it was hysterical while the walls spun around me.
I didn’t know why it unsettled me so profoundly. Why I was shaking as I rinsed the shampoo out and repeated the process with the conditioner. Why disquiet gathered from the edges of my being, whirling together to become a gnarl of apprehension.