Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
My brow grew tight as I stared at her. “You were accidentally counting Sir,” I echoed back.
She nodded, saying, “He’s part of the family, so it’s not weird or anything. I like him feeling included.” Then she grabbed the bowls sitting on the island in front of her, turned around, and started washing them in the sink.
I watched her do this, and I would’ve thought the dog thing was weird, but this was Syd, and knowing her, she would count that damn dog as one of her dinner guests. Probably give him an assigned seat, too, with the little place cards she was always putting out. She loved Sir like he was her kid.
So I left it alone and headed outside.
It was early September in Dogwood Beach. Hot days. Warm nights. And the water was prime fucking temperature. Perfect Carolina weather.
Perfect surf weather, too. Thanks to hurricane season.
The sun burned low in the sky, streaking the clouds with oranges and yellows and shadowing Dash, who was tipped forward and leaning against the railing, looking out into the yard with his back to me.
His name was Brian, but I called him Dash. Always did. Dude was fucking fast when we were kids.
He turned his head as I made my way across the deck.
“Shit,” he mumbled through a smile, peering at me over his shoulder and doing the same evaluation Syd did when she first saw me. “I was expecting you to show up using crutches or with something in a cast. What the hell, man? You look fine.”
“I had a small limp yesterday, all right? So get off my fuckin’ back about it,” I replied, moving to stand beside him. “And just ’cause that bitch didn’t break anything doesn’t mean that shit didn’t happen. I just got lucky.”
I twisted off the bottle cap, bent it in half between my finger and thumb, and sat it on the wood, then took a swig of my beer while watching Sir run around the yard.
Dash was staring at me. I could feel his eyes locked on my profile, prompting me to ask an irritated “What?” before I turned my head.
His mouth twitched. “She really run you over?” he questioned.
“Yeah, brother, she did.”
“I’m talking got you under the wheels of her car, Jamie, ’cause that’s the definition of someone getting run over.”
My gaze narrowed.
“Right,” he murmured, looking out into the yard. “She didn’t. That’s what I thought.”
“Backed into me and knocked me down,” I argued, gaining his attention again. “Made contact, brother. Enough that it put me on my ass. And straight up, she would’ve kept on reversing and would’ve put me under the wheels if I didn’t have the reflexes I do, so thank fuck for that. She’s fuckin’ crazy.”
“She’s sayin’ this was an accident, and not to call you out, man, but it sounds like it was.”
“What the fuck? Whose side are you on?” I asked, my voice growing louder with edge.
Jesus fucking Christ. Sunshine got to him.
He shot me a hard look.
“No one’s. Are you fuckin’ serious? You know I don’t give a fuck,” Dash said, straightening up and turning to face me. “I’m just pointing out what’s being said and giving it to you straight. Yeah, that girl’s been shootin’ you down for months. We’ve all witnessed it. But I doubt she’d get that sick of your shit she’d try and take you out with her car. She doesn’t seem the type.”
“You mean, the psycho pussy type?” I asked, lifting my bottle and tipping it at him. “You’re wrong, brother. She’s the type. Bitch tried to kill me.”
“Christ,” he mumbled to the sky, tipping his head back.
“She’s psycho pussy. I’m just callin’ it like I see it.”
I took another swig of my beer.
“Word of advice,” Dash started, meeting my gaze again. “You might wanna get the psycho pussy shit outta your system before we head inside. Doubt Syd’s gonna be down with hearing you call her girl that.”
“Figured,” I returned, shrugging weakly. “Not tryin’ to leave here without getting some of that food she’s cookin’ so I’ll stick with referring to Legs as ‘crazy bitch.’ ”
“That might not fly either.”
“Man, whatever. I’ve been traumatized. I can’t be held responsible for shit I say right now. I was run over.”
Dash chuckled. Then he bent his elbow on the railing and leaned his weight onto it.
“What?” I probed when he kept staring at me like I should be saying something.
He cocked his head.
“Really? You got nothing to ask me?”
We kept looking at each other, him not giving up any more, then I mumbled an “oh, shit,” because it hit me right then what he was getting at and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t gotten around to asking him about it already. This shit was important. Had been on my mind the entire drive over here.