Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“You, man. You’re checking Penny out.” His brow is lifted, confusion swimming in his green eyes as he picks at a frayed end of his orange cast.
“I’m not checking her out,” I grumble. I’m not. “I was checking on her. Your player ass doesn’t know the difference yet. The rest of the human population can see women as more than something to stick their dicks into.”
Cal snorts. “Please. Save me the hero speech. Like your ass wasn't fucking your way through every female at OSU.”
“Just because I like to fuck doesn’t mean I want to fuck everyone I come in contact with.”
“If you guys are done comparing who was the biggest manwhore in college, the spaghetti is ready,” Charlotte says, interrupting our bickering.
Like she has him tethered on a string, Cal rises to his feet, making his way over to her. I take the moment to peek over at Penny. Her eyes are zeroed in on them, watching them with barely hidden interest. It makes me want to ask her what she’s thinking about. When she catches me staring, she rolls her eyes, yanking off her headphones.
“Cal,” she calls out, “your ugly friend is broken. He won’t stop staring.”
I laugh, shaking my head at her as I stand. “You’re such a little asshole, English.” I hold my hand out to her, offering to help her up from the couch.
She eyes it like it’s a venomous snake. I could grab her hand and haul her up, but something in her tight expression has me dropping my hand at my side. She scrambles to her feet, unassisted, and walks around the coffee table, keeping herself at a distance from me.
The dark, disgusting thoughts that sometimes overwhelm me rear their ugly heads.
You’re a freak show, T.
They can’t look at you now.
“Don’t stand there looking like I kicked your puppy,” Penny says, her eyes sharp as she cuts them through me. “Just because I don’t wanna hold hands like a lovesick groupie doesn’t mean I don’t like you, ugly.”
Her words chase away the shadows in my mind. Penny always has a way of doing that. Cutting through the bullshit and telling it like it is, but in a way that makes you laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, mean-ass. I’m coming.” I tug on her blond ponytail. “Lead the way.”
Penny
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Charlotte’s fork hits her plate each time she cuts into her spaghetti, making me tense up. Cal and Terrence both twist their noodles around their forks, splattering sauce everywhere, but my sister cuts hers into tiny pieces.
We’ve gone to blows over this before.
Once, when I was twelve, I was particularly irritated by the sounds she was making and deliberately sent my milk spilling across the table and into her lap. She screeched and bitched at me for not paying attention.
But the sounds stopped.
How do I make them stop this time?
“Do you really think she’s yours?” Cal asks over a mouthful of noodles, his attention on Terrence.
I’m dragged from the clinking to inspect Terrence’s features. His full lips press together as he frowns. I skim my gaze over his uneven flesh on his head where hair doesn’t grow. The dent would be less noticeable if hair grew there. It makes me wonder if it ever will.
“It’s a real possibility the kid is mine,” Terrence says with a huff. “I need to find Lacey, but…”
Terrence might have a kid?
Interesting.
“But what?” I ask.
“I don’t even know where to start.” He scowls.
I whip out my phone, ignoring my meal. “What’s her name?”
“Lacey Henderson,” Terrence replies, his spine straightening. “She’s in Florida right now.”
“What does she look like?” My attention is on my phone as I prowl through social media on a hunt to find her, starting with Facebook.
“White. Blonde. My age.” He sighs. “It’s been years, so I don’t remember much else.”
Strange.
Nothing on Facebook.
I skip over to Instagram. Nothing there either.
“Have you asked Garrett to look into it?” Cal asks Terrence. “Maybe he could help.”
“Does Dad know her?” Charlotte pipes in, setting her fork down.
Thank baby Jesus for the reprieve.
“Lacey’s stepdad, Jack, brought the little girl in to see Garrett yesterday. I tried to talk to Jack and he flew outta there with the girl. She looks just like me.” Terrence sighs. “I want to know for sure, but I can’t figure out how to get a hold of Lacey.”
I take a moment to study Terrence. His skin is a dark, golden brown everywhere besides his pink, garish scars on the left side of his head. Mahogany-colored eyes are rimmed in thick, long black lashes that draw your attention there. His black eyebrows are a pleasant thickness—not bushy or thin—and the one over his right eye peaks a little higher than the left, as though he’s continually smirking or amused. I like how his nose is a little wide, and how his nostrils flare each time he breathes. His cheeks, chin, and around his mouth are dusted in shortly cropped black facial hair. Like his short hair on his head, his facial hair is trimmed along the edges in a blunt, precise way that makes me appreciative of the clean lines. It’s something people probably wouldn’t notice, but it’s evident he spends time making it perfect and I like that. The most intriguing part about him are his lips. They’re pink, the hue contrasting against his brown skin, drawing your eye to them. His bottom lip is a little fuller than the top one, giving him a naturally pouty look. The corners of his mouth curl slightly up, making it seem as though he’s always smiling, even when he’s not.