Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Hallie had helped me decorate, but it hadn’t been a fun experience for either of us. Copies of school pictures had ended up on the walls, she’d chosen dark blue drapes and blankets for me, and I’d assembled the tiny entertainment unit for a flat-screen and some macaroni art I’d stolen from the house. Some drawings and clay trinket dishes too.
I didn’t want anything else, and I hoped to whoever listened that I wouldn’t stay here for a long time. A year, max. Max.
After that… Unless Nathan hit his head and decided to take me back, I was gonna have to find a proper house.
“Dad, when are you seeing Dylan?”
“Later tonight when I drop you off.”
“I mean, like this—when it’s just you and him.”
“Uh, on Friday, I think,” I answered, pouring a bag of popcorn into the bowl. “If he doesn’t cancel.”
I wouldn’t blame the kid. Fridays were sacred to teenagers, and I’d already offered to change our day. But so far, so good.
“I don’t think he’ll cancel. He wants to talk to you about something.”
I glanced at her, curious. She was sitting in the corner of the couch, holding a textbook, and I hoped the gossip was juicy. Otherwise, I couldn’t allow her to stall the damn homework.
Hallie smirked. “He told Dad last night that he wants to join the military after high school.”
Uh…
I squinted, wondering if this was separation-related.
Hallie had been easy in terms of Nate and me knowing how to handle her, ’cause she made shit very clear. When she was sad, she showed it. When she was pissed, she slammed the door. Dylan, on the other hand… He stewed in silence, whether he was upset or angry or just annoyed.
We’d been making progress lately, though. Nate and I had tapped into their language by embedding questions into activities. When Hallie and I fought zombies together on a TV screen, she was weirdly talkative. I could ask her almost anything. And when Dylan and I went to the driving range a couple times a week, his guard was lowered. As long as I never lost my patience, I could get a good sense of his mood.
Nate shared a similar dynamic with them, only he went swimming with Dylan and took Hallie out for ice cream after soccer practice.
“What did Dad say?” I asked.
“He went into shrink mode and wondered if Dylan was angry with you two.”
Yeah, that sounded like Nate.
“Are you gonna ground him?” Hallie couldn’t look more gleeful if she tried.
“Why would I do that?” I furrowed my brow. “He’s not even fifteen yet.” He was gonna change his mind plenty before I had any reason to worry. “I might ground you for tryna get your brother into trouble.”
Girl wasn’t intimidated for shit. Instead, she batted her lashes at me. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Daddy. Until you and Dad get together again, you’ll be sweeter than sugar.”
Good God. I didn’t know what was worse, her certainty that Nate and I would reunite, or that she was dead on the money. I had lost some of my authority in the separation, because I felt fucking guilty. And she knew. She was some goddamn smarty-pants.
“Daddy and I aren’t getting back together, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first either, but this is so not how Bridget’s parents act toward each other. They’re always fighting—and they met new people so fast. You and Dad are miserable without each other. I notice stuff, you know.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Bridget’s parents are splittin’ up?”
“They already did. Her dad moved out before the holidays.”
Huh. Did not know that. We tried to keep up with the basics, at least if it was a close friend of one of our kids. But this must’ve been going on for a while if they’d separated just a few months ago and were already dating other people.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmured. “How’s Bridget doing?”
She grew a little uncomfortable as I shifted the focus. “She’s okay, I guess. She gets sad sometimes and…” She trailed off and fidgeted with her ponytail. “I’m glad you and Daddy don’t say mean things about each other.”
Ah.
Maybe that was what Bridget’s folks were doing.
I sat down next to her and put a hand on her knee. “You know there’s a list of bad shit I’ll always say about him.”
Her mouth twitched with mirth. “That he sucks at Monopoly?”
“Sucks so bad,” I agreed.
She giggled. “And, um… Oh! He’s not allowed to decorate cupcakes.”
“That’s two. One more.” I smiled. “If I say barbecue…”
Her eyes widened as she remembered. “Don’t ever let him near the grill when you have steaks on there! He makes them super dry.”
I chuckled. “There you go. Like, who the fuck likes a steak well done?”
She finally let out a laugh, and that was all I’d wanted to hear.