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)
“We take measures to prevent it from happening, but it’s never-ending. We might go weeks without an issue, sometimes longer, and one day, the kids are running off, a river crone tries to eat them, and a sasquatch decides it wants to pick a fight because it’s lonely and angry.”
And that got me. “That bigfoot is lonely?”
The side of his mouth went tight. “They aren’t a fan of that title.”
I winced. Who was I to tell someone what could hurt their feelings and what couldn’t? I’d been ready to shave his head after he’d called me those ugly names, but…. “He’s still a jerk, but now I kind of feel bad.”
It was more than that. I felt ashamed of myself. He’d gone for my emotional jugular, and I might have done the same thing. I’d wanted to hurt him because he’d hurt me, and maybe that made me as much of a mean person as it made him.
My soul wilted at the idea.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not really hurt them at least.
His hands did that thing on the steering wheel again. “He chooses to be that way,” Henri said carefully. “I wouldn’t feel too bad for him.”
I felt bad anyway. Because I had forgotten, when I knew better. Some people were assholes just because they could be, but most people had deep, deep reasons why they behaved the way they did. You never knew what someone else was going through or what they’d gone through to make them that way.
On a separate note, who was Dominic and why had Henri given him a black eye?
And here I’d thought campgrounds were dramatic.
Chapter
Nine
“Nuh-uh, park your dump truck over there. I don’t want to catch your cooties,” I told Sienna later that evening when she’d finally wandered into the kitchen for dinner.
Sienna’s reply was a whine, still looking pale and weak, a very clear indicator of the condition she had been in. In all the years we’d been friends, I couldn’t remember her ever being sick. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her cough. And the more I’d thought about it, the more I was convinced she and Matti had contracted some terrible bacteria that would probably put anyone without incredible magical DNA in the hospital, if not worse. I’d seen Matti eat some things when we’d been kids that made the kinds of “organic matter” Duncan put into his mouth seem almost Michelin rated.
Because of that, I’d called the convenience store where I was sure the contaminated food had been from and warned them they might have a death trap on their hands.
And since I didn’t want to risk her hacking germs into my eyeballs on the 1 percent chance whatever they had was contagious, I pointed at the seat two down from mine. A little distance was better than no distance, I figured. But if she tried to touch Duncan, I’d tackle her.
My best friend winced as she took the stool. We were the only two people in the kitchen at that point. I’d checked the calendar in the pantry, and Franklin’s name and meal had been signed into the slot, so I assumed I would sous chef for him and keep learning where ingredients were and how they liked to do things. We were immersing ourselves.
The sooner we started, the better.
Based on how this afternoon had gone, Duncan was already doing a spectacular job at it. He had been so happy when I’d gone to the nursery to check on him. His teacher had let me stay after she’d spotted me at the window. He had jumped on me, sending me “Love, love, love,” even as he’d played with the other children, like he was singing it. His puppy smile had been radiant. The teacher had said he’d done great. All signs pointed at him having a good time.
I’d tried to convince myself that it was better this way. If he’d pitched a fit and had been crying, climbing on me, begging me not to leave him with those puppy eyes, it would have been so hard. This immediate independence and confidence was better.
Sure.
My little selfish heart just needed to come around.
Now, the black ball of fur was so exhausted he was curled under my stool, passed out from a long day of interacting in a new environment with new people. He was going to have to adjust to a new sleep schedule from now on.
“My butt is sore.” Sienna winced as she propped her legs on the rung of the stool. “I didn’t want to waste the day not spending time with you. This sucks.”
I snickered as she planted an elbow on the counter. “I know, and I hope you and your butt feel better.”
“Matti says he now understands why I’ve never wanted to try a-n-a-l,” she whispered.