Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“How do you mean?”
“When Mom and Dad were married, they’d get mad at each other a lot and fight. But now when they talk to each other, they’re just nicer.” She twirls a strand of hair around her fingers. “I can live with that and so can Dan. And I think he’s happier since he left the company too.”
So much to unpack there.
“Company? What company?”
“Uhhh, yeah.” She wrinkles her nose as she thinks and it’s adorable. “I think it was called Opti-something or other. Studios.”
Okay.
I make a mental note to Google it later.
“But I don’t think he ever liked it,” she confides. “He used to come home all grumpy.”
“Huh. Can’t imagine that when he’s a big shiny cinnamon roll.” I only mean it half-sarcastically.
And I can’t help smiling as I think about the Kane I’ve gotten to know.
When he forgets to be all up his own ass and relaxes, he can be fun. Chill. Smiley even.
The rest of the time?
Pure beast.
Her large eyes shine behind her glasses. “He wasn’t as grumpy when he played hockey, though.”
Oh yeah, how could I forget?
My mind was glued to him owning the ice when he mentioned it after breaking my fall.
And then what happened next, with the kiss…
No, don’t think about it.
“Was he a good player?” I ask.
“So good!” She beams. “He was really famous once. Like people used to beg for his autograph. I remember one time we were at the store and this lady wanted to take a picture with him. Dan and I were really little.”
“I bet. How old is your dad?”
“Thirty-six,” she says proudly. “Pretty much Jurassic old.”
“Yeah, that’s super old.” I laugh.
“How old are you?” she asks curiously, hugging her knees.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“That’s old too. Just not ancient.”
“Thank you,” I say flatly.
“You’re only prehistoric after thirty.”
“Yeah?” I remember when I was her age, and even twenty felt like it was light-years away.
I was sure that by the time I turned twenty, I’d have my shit together.
Gorgeous, brilliant career.
My own money that doesn’t come from a trust.
Over the issues that come with being a Blackthorn.
But then I hit the age and I was still a rich brat, learning how to grow into the name I grew up with. Ignorantly thinking people would love me for me, and not because of my grandfather.
I’ve always been attractive though, so at least I had that.
The past five years have taught me a ton.
Mostly about who I am, what I want.
Just one freaking winning shoe design, for example, though what she’s asking for is way out of my comfort zone.
“Dad said thirty was when he started getting grey hair.”
I think back to his dark hair, the tiny hints of silver by his ears. If that’s all natural, he’s doing well.
“On that note,” I say, giving her a little push, “I think it’s time for bed. Try to get some sleep, before your dad finds out what you told me. I don’t think he’ll want people knowing he’s going grey.”
She giggles. “But you can see them!”
“Only if you’re really close.” And I have no intention of getting that close again. “Come on, bedtime. It’s late and I’m only five years away from being old, so I need my rest before they shuffle me off to a home.”
She giggles maniacally.
“But you’ll remember the shoes, right?” she asks anxiously as I walk her to the door.
Even the most stonehearted person on the planet couldn’t resist that pleading look. And I’m far from granite.
“Absolutely, baby,” I promise. “Sleep well.”
She gives me a little wave as she leaves, and I close the door, leaning against it.
It feels like a bomb just went off, blowing my life to confetti.
The shoes.
Kane Saint, (in)famous hockey player.
The awkwardness around his life, his career at—Opti-something.
But Opti-what? And why is it so Opti-weird?
My phone waits on the bed.
I throw myself down and snatch it up, bringing up a new tab to start some deep sleuthing.
I’m positive I’m going to beat Kane downstairs the next morning, but by the time I step into the kitchen with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, he’s already laying his ingredients out on the counter.
This man brings a whole new meaning to ‘morning ritual.’
For a second, I just stand in the doorway, staring like he’s a ghost.
My Google sleuthing paid off last night.
Few answers and a lot more questions, gaps in his history I never would’ve guessed, some turning into gaping chasms.
Like the company he was involved with, OptiSynth Studios. He was a co-founder and on the board for years before he left it abruptly earlier this year.
According to the tech articles, he stepped away due to ‘differences’ in vision with the rest of the company’s executive team.
I can read between the lines.
In money and business circles, that means there was a blowout. Then he either walked away or they shoved him out.