Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 55(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 55(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
“You’re all set,” he says, his voice sounds weird, but I don’t know why. He grips my shoulders and spins me around to face him.
“How does it look,” I ask, running my fingers over it.
“Absolutely beautiful,” he replies, and I smile up at him.
“Thank you so much. I love it,” I tell him.
“You’re very welcome, Legs.” I love it when he calls me Legs. Have I mentioned that? The conversation slips in to a companionable silence, but even with the music playing in the room, the silence between us is deafening.
“It was so thoughtful of you to add the K for my initials.”
“Right. Your initials,” he says, frowning a bit.
“It’s your birthday, bitch!” Kerry says coming over to us.
“You can’t say the b-word in a church,” I whisper to my crazy best friend, making the sign of the cross.
“Whatever,” she says rolling her eyes. “Be normal, Mom and Dad are headed this way.” I look up and sure enough, they are practically sprinting over here.
“Happy birthday, Annika,” George, Kerry and Kellen’s dad, says, slugging me on the shoulder. It’s always Annika. No one call me anything other than Annika, except Kellen and he calls me Legs. I love, love, love it when he calls me Legs.
“Happy Birthday, sweet girl,” Ayla, Kerry and Kellen’s mom, says, pulling me into a hug. “What a gorgeous necklace.”
“Thank you. Kellen just gave it to me.”
“Did he now?” she asks with her eyebrows arched toward Kels.
“It’s not a big deal, Mom,” Kellen says, sheepishly.
It’s a big deal to me…
October 26th, 1988
My chest lurches and pulls me out of a dead sleep. My eyes pop open. I’m momentarily confused but I know something is wrong before I even get out of bed. It’s still dark outside, but my room is filled the flashing lights of a police car. That’s never good. I look over at the clock and see that it’s only four o’clock in the morning. Getting out of bed, I look out the window and see that the sheriff is parked in the street, but the way he’s parked, I can’t tell if he’s at our house or the Fisher’s. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I rush out of my room. The rest of the house is still dark and silent so he must not be here. Then it hits me. He’s across the street. My first thought is of Kellen. A sense of dread settles in my stomach. Without thinking, I run out of the house, barefoot and sprint down the driveway and across the street. I throw open the Fisher’s front door, my eyes frantically searching. Then I see him talking to Sheriff Lochlan. He was the sheriff that came to the mall when Roland attacked me. His wife, Jodi is a few years older than Kerry and me.
With nothing in my sight but Kellen, I barrel through Ayla, who is crying. That registers but for some reason, I can’t stop until I find him. I bolt past several cops, until I see him. Then I’m flying, well practically flying, toward Kellen. His eyes flash with recognition as he see me. I leap up at him and he catches me in his arms. I know that I’m too big to be doing this, but he carries me with ease. I can’t help remembering last Christmas when he carried me out of the mall like a knight in shining armor. I feel him inhale and exhale deeply. His hot breath hitting my neck.
“Legs?” he asks, his voice thick. Is he crying too?
“What’s wrong?” I ask, tears already welling in my eyes.
“My… My dad died this morning.”
“What?” I ask, sliding down his body and back down to the floor.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and he buries his face in my hair. His body shakes as he cries in my arms. I have never seen Kellen cry. Not ever.
“He’s gone. Drunk driver.” His voice is choked up and it breaks my heart.
“How terrible,” I say, making the sign of the cross. Tears fill my eyes and I let them fall on Kellen’s chest. George was a second father to me. I’ll miss his sense of humor and his advice. He gave the best advice. Poor Ayla. They loved each other so much. Much like my own parents, it was obvious anytime you were in the same room as them. I don’t know how long we stand there, hanging on to each other for dear life. I look around the room, and no one else is in it. The sun is starting to rise as well. Two hours, maybe more. Suddenly, his grip tightens on me and his hands that were at my waist dip lower. Then he growls.
“Where are your fucking pants, Annika?” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my back. Now isn’t the time for this. His daddy just died. I steel myself to desires. Desires I can’t be having until next year, at least.