Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
He wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t heard before, but I didn’t know what could change with my “environment.” I did what I could with what I had.
“I can’t fix Lucian overnight,” I mumbled. “I’m gonna have nightmares for a while.”
Until I’d seen more evidence of him getting better.
I believed in him wholeheartedly. Uncle Lucian had the best intentions, and he was learning a painful lesson. He was taking his recovery seriously, and there was literally nothing else he could do. Over time, my fears would die down. I was super sure of that. It was just…too fresh, still. That was all.
“You’re forgetting a bigger headache,” Daddy murmured. “Your mother.”
I flinched and buried my face against his armpit.
Why did he have to go there? I wanted to forget she existed!
“Noa,” he said patiently. “We’ve postponed this long enough. You keep protecting her, and you suffer for it.”
It wasn’t about my protecting her, dammit. It was about preventing the next relapse, plain and simple. I knew she was going to react to my news by going out and buying another bottle of vodka.
I blew out a breath and inched away, and my Little retreated into the darkness. Serious topic made for a serious Noa. I wasn’t a fan of it, but here we were.
When push came to shove, I knew KC was right. I couldn’t shield Mom from reality, and she was always going to find excuses to fall off the wagon. It’d been like this since I was little. And still, I felt guilty for possibly causing the next relapse. She wasn’t strong enough to handle the news of her son being together with her ex-husband. Which was sort of understandable? But it wasn’t as if we’d chosen to fall in love. Hell, KC had fought his feelings for me for years.
I hadn’t. Maybe because I’d felt mistreated by my mother. Maybe because she’d been drunk at my high school graduation, maybe because she’d used me, manipulated me, played on my guilt to be there for her…
Fuck. This had to end.
“I’ll tell her tomorrow,” I muttered.
KC sighed and squeezed me to him, and he pressed his lips to the top of my head. “I don’t want you to. I’d rather you wait at home and let me talk to her. We both know how she gets when she’s upset.”
Yeah, well. She was my mom. My mom, my problem.
“But right now, you need a nap,” he continued.
“What—no!” I exclaimed. “I’m not tired!”
“You’re exhausted,” he corrected with a pointed look. “I’m putting my foot down on this one, freckles. You need to rest your mind for a moment. You’re in no mood to keep playing right now.”
But…!
I pouted, torn between annoyance and defeat. His words rang true in my head, but what did that mean for later? What about the event? What about my candy? What about all the others? And the snacks and the lemonade?
“Don’t argue.” He dipped down and kissed my nose. “Be a good boy, and you’ll have a nice surprise waiting for you when you wake up.”
Oh crap. I loved surprises.
CHAPTER 9
KC Hayles
By the time the sun was setting, Lucian, Cam, and I took our seats on the porch again for the announcement of the winners in the first part of the Game. While Noa had been dead to the world, we’d arranged for his participation to come through videos we uploaded, including the paddling and tickling. That way, he didn’t have to pull out of the competition altogether.
The warmth of the day was gone, so I was thankful Lucian had moved one of the patio heaters over to us. And the dinner Cam had set up among the candles was damn good too. Our coffee table was filled with cheese, crackers, fruit, grilled vegetables, chicken skewers, freshly made zucchini bread, and homemade aioli.
It was a wonder what Cam could accomplish when Noa went down for a couple hours.
One task at a time, Lucian was bringing Cam back to the place he loved the most. A life of servitude.
Cam kneeled next to the table on his new cushion, but I wasn’t allowed to call the stuffie a cushion. It was a squishy, trendy stuffed animal that looked like a cushion. With eyes and a hat. And our boy was ridiculously happy with it.
I took a sip of my wine and glanced over at the pool area, where Reese, Walker, Nathan, and Colt were talking about today’s event. Several of the subs were rubbing at budding bruises and looking none too happy, so I’d call it a success.
“The chicken is fantastic, darling.” Lucian went for another skewer, and I narrowed my eyes at Colt. Had he fucking shaved? It was a little too dark to tell, but it sure looked like he’d shaved off his beard.
Was that a mustache?
“Did Colt shave?” I asked.