Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
I have way too much darkness in me to ever settle down with one woman. I don’t even like to sleep next to one in case I wake up with nightmares. Love them and leave them smiling has served me well and I have no intention of ever changing that.
Soon I’ll need to find my own place. Not that Rooster and Shelby have told me I have to move, but it’s the right thing to do.
Today, I’m helping my little sister Jezzie move into her new apartment. I’ve been coughing up money for her college tuition for a few years. When she mentioned she wanted to switch to yet another school this semester, I finally convinced her to move to New York so we can be closer to each other.
Our relationship’s awkward at best. Guilt’s cemented onto my shoulders for leaving her behind. It doesn’t matter that I was a kid myself. Or that I came back for her when I could. I chose myself over her and while I was living comfortably with Rooster and his aunt and uncle—finishing high school, going to keggers in the woods, and healing from the trauma my father inflicted—Jezzie was in hell.
At least my father will never harm another woman or child again. I made sure of that.
Now that we’ve finished clearing the load out of the truck she rented in Pennsylvania, I stop to fiddle with the locks on her front door. Dead bolt. I flick it in and out. Not bad. Frame’s sturdy.
“Don’t start, Jensen,” my sister warns. “The locks are fine.”
I glance up. She’s standing in the hallway, hands on her hips, elbows pointing sideways, irritation all over her scrunched face.
I resist the urge to boop her on the nose.
The sweet kid who tended to my wounds turned into a young woman who’s more like a hedgehog today—adorably unassuming to look at but when she’s provoked, her sharp defenses prickle to life, keeping you at a distance.
“You’re still too far away for my liking.” This is guaranteed to piss her off, but I say it anyway. “You couldn’t find a school closer to Empire at least?”
“Nooo,” she answers slowly to punctuate her annoyance.
“All clear. No hidden cameras or anything weird that I can find.” Rooster strides into the living room. “It’s a nice place, Jezzie.”
She beams at him. No attitude for ol’ Uncle Rooster, she saves the snark for me. “Thank you, Logan.”
“No problem.”
“Actually.” Jezzie lunges at me and throws her arms around my neck so fast, I take a quick step back to balance myself. “Thank you. For finding this place, paying for it, moving me here.” Emotion wells up in her eyes and she glances away, hugging me tighter and resting her cheek on my chest. “All of it.”
Even though I’m not usually a hugger, I return the embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. The scent of cotton candy tickles my nose. “Proud of you, Jezebel,” I murmur against her hair.
She lets out a harsh laugh and pulls away. “Two colleges in the last three years. And I’m still mooching off you. What’s to be proud of?”
“You could’ve gone to no colleges and spend your days milking goats and popping out babies.” That’s the life she would’ve had if our father’d had his way.
“Ugh.” Her face screws into a disgusted pout. She pops her fist against my shoulder. “Why’d you have to ruin a nice moment by bringing up our freak show family?”
“Can’t help it.” I tug at a large chunk of her long, multi-colored hair. Pink, blue, and purple this month. “I like this. Reminds me of cotton candy.” It also reminds me that she has choices now. Hair colors outside of nature would not have been permitted on the Killgore farm. Better to leave that unsaid, though.
“Is that your way of saying I look like a clown?” she asks, gathering all of her hair and twisting it into a bun, then letting it fall down her back.
I roll my eyes. “No.”
“It’s pretty,” Rooster says.
“Thanks.” Jezzie glances around the small, sparsely furnished space. Love seat. Desk. Bookshelf. Lots of boxes of books. Heavy boxes of books. Paying for her living expenses isn’t difficult. She doesn’t ask for much. The most expensive thing she owns is the neon purple fat tire ebike she asked for last Christmas. She swears that’s all she needs to get around campus and the small college town.
“I’ll get a job so I can take over some expenses,” she says with a serious squint.
I snort. “Your cell phone and Spotify subscription aren’t breaking my bank, Jezzie. Just worry about school.”
“I think this is going to be a better fit for me. Almost all of my credits transferred. And once I get these summer classes done, I’ll officially be a junior.”
“I think you’re going to do great here.” I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “And I like having you closer. I want you to come visit when you have time off.”