Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Flynn looks at me with an indecipherable expression.
“June, do you have siblings?” she asks.
“No. I’m an only child too.”
“I had all kinds of siblings,” Flynn says. “If you’d call them that. Just other kids in foster care.”
I know he doesn’t want pity, but I can’t help my sad smile.
“You have a lot in common with my husband,” Callie says to Flynn.
He squints. “Mr. Rawlings was in foster care?”
Callie sips her tea before nodding.
“He told me about his mom and brother, and then about his father, but I just assumed he was an adult by then and just …” Flynn shrugs. “Moved on.”
“He was twelve when his mother and brother died. His dad went to prison. Rupert lived with his grandparents—his mom’s parents—but they weren’t financially able to take care of him, and his grandfather had cancer. His dad’s parents were divorced and had basically disowned his father years earlier, so Rupert ended up in foster care. Then he ran away and got into trouble, so he spent time in a detention center. When he turned eighteen, he enlisted with a recommendation from his detention officer.”
“It’s late,” Flynn says while standing. “You’d better put your husband to bed.”
I’m caught off guard by his abruptness, as if he’s not interested in anything Callie has to say about Rupert. Perhaps it stirs up bad memories from his own past.
Callie grins. “He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t make it to bed on his own, that’s his problem.”
I scoot back in my chair, following Flynn’s cue to leave. “Thank you so much for the tea.”
Callie looks at me and nods. “It was my pleasure. Please feel free to come by anytime. It’s … nice,” she says with a somberness to her voice.
“I guess I’ll see ya in the morning,” he says when we step into the kitchen where I put my cup in the sink.
Callie rests her hands on his cheeks, and his body stiffens. “Take good care of her,” she says. “Manners and respect. Okay?”
I tuck my chin to hide my smile. Flynn doesn’t know it, but he officially has a mom.
“Sure,” he says, handing her the kitten. When he turns his back to her, he gives me a little eye roll like Callie is crazy. I’m not sure Flynn knows how to let people genuinely care for him.
That’s kind of heartbreaking.
Chapter Ten
Flynn
“That was odd,” I say, starting my car on the second try.
“What was?” June asks.
“Callie got pretty tight-lipped when I asked about her degree. Was she a stripper or something?”
June snorts. “I don’t think that requires several degrees. Everyone has secrets for different reasons.”
“I know. It just seems like a weird secret.” As we drive down the hill, I glance at June. “What’s your secret?”
“What’s yours?” Her eyebrows jump up her forehead.
“I asked you first.”
“Well”—she looks ahead—“if I tell you, then it won’t be a secret.”
“I don’t think we should have secrets,” I say, and I mean it, but I don’t know if I can walk the walk. Not yet.
“That’s a big step. No secrets, huh?”
I pull over along the side of the road. “We have a problem.”
“Your car is broken?”
“I don’t know where we’re going. Am I taking you home? If so, you have to tell me where you live. Are you coming back to my place? If so, then I have to be honest with you about my living situation.”
Her lips part with a slow breath. “Are you living in your car?” she whispers.
I chuckle, but she doesn’t.
Shit.
She’s serious.
“Not anymore,” I say. “I told you I have a roommate. Do you think he’s waiting at some bar for me to finish my date so he can get back in this”—I circle my finger around—“our house?”
Her eye twitches. I know she’s trying not to be shocked by me, my past, and my whole messed-up present situation. Monroe was right. I give too much too soon. But I don’t want to be with someone who can’t handle it. Maybe that’s why I’m alone, residing on a sofa. I should slow down before I lose her.
“Do you want to order a ride? I’ll wait here with you, and when they pick you up, I promise not to follow you.”
This time, she can’t hide her flinch. “Flynn,” she whispers.
“It’s fine.” I run my hands through my hair. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”
Her hand rests on my leg, and I stare at it, wanting nothing more than to hold it. Kiss it. Pull her into my arms. When I picked her up at the park and carried her to my car, it was the first time in … forever, that I remember feeling someone else’s body so close to mine without it being a forgettable hookup.
“The gallery,” June says, pulling her hand away from my leg.
“The gallery?”
She nods. “I live in an apartment across from the gallery, above the salon.”