Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I replied noncommittally. It had been three years since my mother’s murder, and I still found myself feeling suddenly upset at random times, though the emotions had mostly calmed down. The hardest part was the lack of closure. No killer had ever been caught, though, given what my father did for a living, it wasn’t surprising that the police hadn’t looked too hard.
I didn’t know exactly what Daddy’s job was, other than his title and the name of his club. He was extra careful to keep me sheltered far away from anything having to do with the Wild Kings. From anything having to do with anything, as a matter of fact. I was fifteen when Mom died, and, since then, I’d essentially lived under house arrest.
Even college, which was an escape from home for most people my age, was just more of the same for me. I was only allowed to go to the University of New Mexico, right down the street, and the question of where I was going to live during school was answered the second I brought it up at dinner one night.
“Dad,” I’d said cautiously between bites of spaghetti.
He looked up at me, those grey eyes as flat and calm as always. “What’s up, Car?” he’d asked.
I remembered how hard it was to swallow and form the words I’d been practicing in the mirror in the weeks since I’d gotten my UNM acceptance letter. “I was thinking that maybe we could work out a way where I could live in the dorms at school this fall.” The silence that hung in the air when I finished was almost poisonous.
But he hadn’t even bothered to look at me when he finally answered. He just shook his head and went back to eating his dinner. “No,” he’d said dismissively. “Not an option.”
“But, Dad—”
“I said no, Carmen. I don’t want you to ask me that again.”
And that was the end of it. There was never any arguing with him, even when he was in the best of moods, but especially not when he had his serious face on. Come hell or high water, I was going to live at home. That was right where I belonged, according to Papa James. Right where he could make sure I was safe.
I wouldn’t have called it “safe,” though. “Trapped” might have been a better word.
“So, anyway,” Lori said abruptly. She could always tell when I started flicking through unhappy memories in my head. She was my best friend for a reason, and there was no one else in the world who was better at pulling me out of a funk. “Are you going to text Dan back?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, biting my lip nervously. “What would I even say?”
“Anything! Jeez, it’s not that hard. Say you’re free tonight! Tomorrow! Next year! Just say something, ya goon.” Lori pretended to pull her hair out in frustration with me. I laughed. She’d always had such an easy time with boys. They flocked to her, and it was obvious why. She had brown hair that fell in a shimmering curtain almost all the way to her waist, and a body to die for. Plus, those bright blue eyes of hers always had that half-innocent, half-mischievous look that drove the dumber sex wild. Over the years since we’d first become friends, I’d seen any number of boys do crazy things just to catch her attention.
It wasn’t just her looks that did it, either. Lori was so comfortable with flirting, with the push and pull of banter. I was super jealous of her ever since I could remember. When it came time to talk to a boy, I felt stupid and clumsy all of the sudden, like I’d never had a conversation before. The way things had gone down with Dan this morning was a perfect example of why I would never be able to find a man of my own.
“Ugh,” I said as I buried my head in Lori’s lap. “But you weren’t there this morning! You didn’t see how badly it went!”
She stroked my hair. “I’m sure you’re imagining things far worse than they were.”
“No,” I protested as I bolted upright. “It was bad. Really bad. Like, by the time he left, I was bawling my freaking eyes out.”
Lori tilted her head to the side and gazed at me with concern written all over her face. “Crying because of Dan in particular, or because of the whole situation in general?”
“I don’t know. Both, I guess. I don’t think I realized how much my dad’s rules have really been grating on me lately. Or maybe I’ve just ignored it.”
“I think that’s exactly what’s happening. You need to talk to him,” she urged.
“Which one, my dad or Dan?”
“Either! Both!” She whacked me with a pillow. I fell backwards, giggling and shielding myself from further attack. “Talk to anyone!” But her voice softened as she dropped the pillow and touched my thigh again. “But I’m serious. Talk to your dad. He’s gotta let you grow up at some point. You can’t be his little girl forever.”