Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
“You okay, Donut?” I asked him, stroking along his spine and then one of his front legs, noticing how much longer it was now. He was growing up so fast.
Those big ruby eyes took their time staring at me before he answered, “Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
My puppy took two steps forward, his head proudly back, those propeller-like ears hanging low, not so close to the floor anymore either. And my emotionally mature puppy, who had been very concerned earlier, answered the same. “Yes. Love.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he put his paw on my foot, staring right at me the whole time.
“Fine.” I smiled again, sneaking down to press my cheek to the top of his head. “Tell me if you’re not,” I said into his ear.
Duncan lifted his paw and set it back on the top of my foot. “Yes.”
Agnes was already on the edge of the bed when I stood up, reaching for the remote. Kids were so resilient, and someone had to protect that. That someone being me.
That had never felt as obvious before as it did in that moment.
But I could think about that later, when I wasn’t feeling cold down to my bones. At my dresser, I pulled out clothes, settling on sweatpants that would have been way too warm under normal circumstances and a toasty sweater, along with clean underwear and fuzzy socks. Duncan jumped on the bed while I did that, scrambling up to his favorite spot on the end while Agnes turned on the television, her back propped by pillows and the headboard.
“I’m going to shower,” I told them, even though it was obvious. That might be a magical river I’d been forced to take a dip in, but wildlife didn’t get the memo not to take a pee or go number 2 in it, so….
A nod and a “yes” answered me, and I ducked inside the small bathroom.
I made it as far as rinsing the shampoo out of my hair before my eyes got watery, and it wasn’t because I got soap in them.
I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told Agnes I had been scared.
Some part of my brain recognized that nothing had actually happened, but it hit me hard how much I had to lose.
And that was so freaking much.
Not once had I ever consciously taken my life and everything in it for granted, but it had never truly hit me just how easily I could lose all the precious things I valued the most.
Duncan, my parents, my best friends, my life, the other kids.
I had so many questions I still wanted to ask Franklin.
And then there was Henri, whose every action made it seem like he cared about me, even if he wasn’t doing anything about it.
I wanted him to do something about it, dang it.
When the water finally washed away my tears, ones that fortunately didn’t come from my soul but from my brain, I let out a long, long sigh and finished my shower.
Once I was dressed, with the towel wrapped around my hair, I checked my face in the mirror. My eyes were red, a little puffy, but they had to have been that way since our Sob Fest at the river. If I looked half as bad as Shiloh and Pascal had, then there was nothing to be done about it. How bad were they going to get in trouble this time?
Agnes and Duncan were both asleep when I opened the door. My donut was on his side, and Agnes was on hers too, curled into a little ball. I had just taken a picture of them when a soft knock came at the door. Neither of the kids lifted their heads, and I crept over, pushing my senses out and not picking anything up.
There was only one person it could be.
Franklin stood in the hall, his arms loosely at his sides. Today he had on a baby blue button-down shirt tucked into khaki pants with a brown belt. He backed up as I closed the door behind me.
“The kids are napping,” I explained, crossing my arms over my chest to preserve my warmth. “Did you need something?”
The man, who seemed younger every time I saw him, shifted his weight around. I wouldn’t go as far as to say he’d been avoiding me—I didn’t think someone who had to be thousands of years old would do that—but he had definitely been scarce since the day he’d dropped one truth after another on me. I really wasn’t upset with him, specifically. How could I be when he’d seemed so sincere in his anger toward his brother for keeping me a secret? For trying to be kind when he’d repeated what he’d learned?
I couldn’t.
But it was still a lot to take in, and he had kept things a secret.