Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Laundry room beside the front bathroom,” she tells me.
I wince. “Laundry room it is.” I twist my body to face Violet. “Mom, this is Violet. My girlfriend.”
“Oh…” Mom chokes out, embarrassment causing her to tense up. “Oh…”
“Violet?” Gwen squeaks out in surprise when she emerges from the basement stairwell. “What are you doing here?” The terror in her voice makes my heart rate quicken.
“We were together when you called,” I tell Gwen gently. “She wanted to help.”
Gwen’s features harden and she shoves past me disappearing out of the kitchen. I shoot Violet an apologetic look.
“Excuse my manners,” Mom says to Violet. “And Gwen’s. We’re just not used to visitors. Had I known you were coming, I’d have straightened up a bit.”
“Violet doesn’t care about a little clutter,” I assure Mom. “Do you, baby?”
Violet shakes her head. “Nope. Your home is lovely. Were those begonias I saw by the front porch?”
Mom nods and beams at her. “Enrique planted those. I’m quite fond of them.”
“They’re beautiful,” Violet murmurs.
I flash her a look of gratitude before wading my way through the hoard of junk toward the laundry room. Once inside, I’m irritated to find that my mom folded up a bunch of blankets to make a makeshift bed on top of the side-by-side washer and dryer. Even the laundry room is filled with junk. I’ve long gotten over the fact that Mom doesn’t wash laundry or dishes or anything. I pay the city to take the trash two times a week but my gut tells me Mom never has anything to put out at the curb.
Violet pushes past me into the laundry room and smoothes out the blankets and situates the pillows. I set Mom down on her bed and Violet proceeds to cover her up. Mom, no longer embarrassed, stares at Violet as if she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
I glance over at my woman.
She’s sure as fuck the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m going to go check on Gwen. Can you stay and make sure she’s okay?” I ask Violet.
When she smiles and nods, I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “Thank you, baby.”
I can hear Mom chattering to her as I exit the laundry room. The mere idea of climbing the stairs has me shuddering, but I know Gwen is upstairs in my old room. It’s the only place in the house they won’t fill up with junk for some reason. Whenever I tell Mom she should sleep in there, she just shakes me off and says she’s saving the room in case I ever need to come back.
It takes several minutes and a couple of dry heaving moments until I pass by one of the bathrooms but I eventually make it to my bedroom. Once I push inside, I take a deep breath. Everything is just as I left it. Dad, that asshole, had been right. I needed to get away. I’d let Mom nurse me back to health after my extensive burns, but the moment I was healed, I left.
Gwen lies on the bed with her back to me. With a sigh, I crawl in beside her and hug her. “Don’t be mad, sis.”
She sniffles. “She’ll think we’re disgusting. How could you bring her here?”
Guilt shoots through me. “Violet’s different. She’s going to be a part of this family one day. I don’t want to start something with secrets. Everything is out in the open.”
She rolls onto her back and regards me with a tear-stained face that reminds me of when she was younger. “Does she know what’s in the chest?”
I frown. “There’s just stuff in there.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Nothing important,” I huff.
Her nostrils flare. “She must not be that important then.”
When Gwen gets upset, she goes on the offensive and says things that are meant to sting. Luckily, I’ve played these games a thousand times with her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Mom just scared me,” she admits with a choked sob. “When she called me, she was disoriented.” A tear leaks out of her eye. “She’s been falling a lot lately but mostly she seems to be forgetting things.” Another tear races out. “People.”
“What do you mean?” I demand, worry creeping its way through me.
“She hasn’t recognized me a couple of times.”
I frown and look past her out the dark window. “Gwen…”
“I know.”
“I’ll call tomorrow.”
She sniffles. “I’m not like her.”
Oh, baby sister, but you’re exactly the same.
“I know.” Lies.
“I’m just messy. Artists are messy,” she assures me. “I can clean it all up whenever I want.”
I smile. “Of course you can.”
Her eyes fall closed. “Maybe I should see Dr. Ward again.”
Hope blossoms in my chest. “She was one of the few people you liked.”
“But she made me angry,” she whispers, her eyes flying open.
I smirk at her. “I make you angry all the time and you don’t fire me.”