Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Is your bed on the floor, or do you lift him up into it every night?” he asked, thinking of Ernest’s stumpy legs.
“I have a sturdy pair of wooden dog stairs for the bed. Stub my toe on it just about every single morning,” I admitted.
“I’m afraid we have to eat off paper tonight,” he told me, producing those giant paper plates that were more like platters.
“They’re biodegradable,” I said with a shrug. “We don’t have to feel too guilty about it.”
“I had the Chinese place throw in a couple of sodas. But I also have beer or hard cider.”
“Oh, I can’t drink on my meds,” I told him. As much as I could go for a drink after that kind of night. “Soda is good.”
“Lemon-lime or regular?” he asked, holding them both out to me.
I took the lemon-lime, then followed his lead and loaded up my plate.
“Okay, explain to me how you have no real plates but you do have real silverware.”
“Yeah, that’s just case of weird happenstance. I went to the dollar store to get balloons for one of my friends’ kid’s birthday party. The silverware was right below where the balloons were taped to the wall.”
The living room had no furniture yet, since he hadn’t decided on a wall color. But he had a card table and chairs set up across from where a TV was attached to the wall.
Catching me looking at it, Kylo smirked. “Priorities,” he admitted. “TV to have on as background noise while I work on things. A table for eating. And a bed. Though, I’ve only slept here once.”
“Do you prefer the other house?”
“That’s… complicated,” he admitted. “I love the brotherhood there. But before I moved in there, I’d been living alone for a long time. I bought this place because I did start to miss the privacy and quiet.”
“Do they party constantly?”
“Several nights a week for sure. And it was great for the first couple of years. But I’ve been less and less into it lately. I saw these go up for sale, and I just pounced.”
“Are your friends upset you’re moving out?” At the look on his face, my brows shot up. “Did you not tell them?”
“I told one of them. Huck. He’s a friend and our boss. He’s fine with it. But I haven’t told anyone else yet.”
It was right then that I realized I had no idea what Kylo did for a living. How had I never asked that before?
“Is it a lot to work and live with them? What do you guys do?”
“We’re in trade. But no. I won’t say that I am sick of them or anything like that. I just wanted more space. And some quiet here and there.”
“I get that. I, uh, when I left college, I went back to live with my parents for a while,” I told him, leaving out the little bit in the middle where I’d been living somewhere else entirely. Where I wasn’t allowed to have shoelaces, my cell phone, or even mouthwash.
“Not the best time after that period of independence, huh?”
It was not a good time in general.
“My parents are very… regimented and stern. And I don’t think I realized when I was growing up how difficult it was to live there at times. But when I moved back, I definitely saw it.”
“Was it typical them still treating you like a kid shit?” he asked.
“Yes. No,” I said, suddenly not wanting to lie. “I mean, they did that, yes. But the problem was, I guess, me.”
“How so?”
“I think I’ve emotionally unloaded enough on you for one night.”
“I’d be happy to hear if you want to tell me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rue
As long as I could remember, I was someone who fretted about everything.
My maternal grandmother, who watched me after school used to call me her ‘little worry wart.’
To be fair, a lot of that came from the impossible standards set by my high-achieving parents. They’d both done what they were supposed to do. Got good grades in high school, joined all the extracurricular activities, volunteered. Everything they needed to do to secure their places at a prestigious Ivy League.
They met there, dated, but took their studies most seriously. After college, they got good jobs, saved, married, and bought a house. Then came us kids. And we were all expected to be just as good as our parents were. Better, even.
The problem was, I didn’t thrive in sports like my siblings. I also hadn’t been born with any innate artistic or musical skill. And I was entirely too clumsy for dance or gymnastics.
School also didn’t come as easily to me as my parents hoped. Once I was old enough, though, to feel their disapproval, I put the pressure on myself to do better. I spent all my free time studying, applying myself, doing extra credit.