Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
We’d originally planned on taking my bike, but James and Shiloh had ridden James’ motorcycle, originally planning on leaving Scout and Rebel at home. But Tegan had ramped up his annoyance factor and had started sending cops out to the compound on bogus noise complaints.
And since everyone in the compound was coming to this ‘family picnic’ as Janie kept calling it, they didn’t want to leave the two teens at home by themselves.
So, they’d hitched a ride along with us.
Which worked for me because it looked like it was about to rain anyway, and Janie didn’t look like she was feeling too well.
“Is your head still bothering you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “It’s been bothering me since I stopped drinking coffee.”
“Why did you stop drinking coffee?” I asked.
“Because it made my stomach upset,” she said.
“Did you switch to a different brand or something?” I questioned.
“No.” She shook her head. “I think it’s all this stress with you. I think I have an ulcer.”
“Ulcers are…”
“Okay. I used to get them a lot when I was a young kid. I’m prone to them,” she said. “Sorry for you. So, don’t stress me out.”
I laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Maybe you should go to sleep so the rest of us can, too,” Rebel murmured sleepily from her position in the back seat.
Janie flipped her off, but she didn’t say anything else until we were pulling into the driveway an hour later.
The next twenty minutes went like this…
“Hi, how are you. This is Rafe. He’s my man.”
“Hi, Rafe. I’m ***insert woman’s name here***. I’m so and so’s wife.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I’d reply.
And, so, it went, until I’d met about eight million and two people out in the front driveway and yard.
The men, however, were a little different.
All of them, and I do mean all of them, wanted to know who the hell I was. Torren, the man who owned the house we were currently parked in front of, had narrowed his eyes at me and asked my ‘intentions.’
At this point Janie had wandered away, giving me ‘man time.’
Apparently, that ‘man time’ consisted of me getting the third degree.
By not one. Not four. Not even ten. By at least twenty men—some of those men including the boy-men that belonged to the men.
Janie was a very loved person, and all of them wanted to make sure that I had what it took to withstand them.
And, by the time I was finished and walking away to get a beer, I wasn’t sure if I’d won them over or not.
Most likely not seeing as I was ‘way too old’ according to Silas.
Silas, who himself was ‘way too old’ for his wife.
But whatever.
I wasn’t one to judge.
But, as I found the beer, and then meandered through the throng of women, children, and random dogs, I found myself steering clear of all the men. Which was how I found my way into a room where I could hear a piano playing.
I found the room and came to a halt in the doorway as I took it all in.
There was a large, open room with one single thing in it: a baby grand piano.
It looked like it cost a whack, too.
I’d never had anything as nice as that.
My father refused to buy me anything that I could possibly ruin. Not that I ruined anything. I feared for my life too much to ever do anything that could possibly draw his wrath.
So, I stayed silent, did what I was told, and played piano on the stupid piece of crap he’d found for me.
Then he’d put it into the garage, so he didn’t have to hear my ‘racket.’
I found myself wistful as I watched the girl play through her music, wincing every so often when she missed a note.
I stepped into the room and walked to the side, so I wouldn’t walk up directly behind her and scare her. This way she would see me coming, and maybe not freak out.
The girl looked up, grimaced, but kept playing.
She was about eight or so, and clearly unhappy to be playing.
She was tapping at the keys, face looking hard, as she tried to play the music on the sheet.
“This blows,” she said, slamming her hand down on the notes, making me grimace.
“Having problems?”
The little girl looked up at me, and I realized instantly who she belonged to based solely on how much she looked like the woman I’d just met—the one who’d opened the door. Tru.
“I suck,” she said. “This sucks. I hate this sucky piano. But I’m being forced to finish because I refused to do it earlier. And now this is my punishment.”
“Why?” I questioned, leaning a hip against the side of the piano.
My eyes trailed over the girl’s stubborn features.
“Because my mother is forcing me to play, and it sucks,” she said. “It’s too hard.”