Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
"Whatever you say." I drop into a chair, turning my back on her. I'm over worrying about what she thinks or what the rest of the world thinks or what they're going to say. For today, at least, I'm going to pretend they don't exist.
"Are you ready for this weekend?" Vanessa asks, sinking into a seat beside me.
"I am." I grin over at her. "I'm probably going to die trying to ski."
"That makes two of us," she says, giggling.
There's a loud knock on the box before the door cracks open.
"Briggs!" I shout, jumping out of my seat when I see him ducking through the door, grinning. I practically fling myself at his chest.
"Hey, Half Pint." He scoops me up, spinning me in circles.
"Put me down!"
He just grins, kissing me on the cheek.
"What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't come." His team is flying out in the morning for a game. Because so many of theirs overlap with Tye's, they don't get to watch each other play often. I always love it when they do get to go with me, though. Even though it means more eyes on me, I get time with them. There isn't ever enough of that during football and hockey season.
"Something came up," he says, winking at me before his gaze drifts toward our mother.
My shoulders slump. "Vanessa told you?"
"Nope." He sets me on my feet, tapping me on the nose. "But I might have talked to your man."
"What?" I gape at him. "Sidney asked you to come?"
"He mentioned that you might need back up," he murmurs, smirking at me. "Guess Tye told him that she was here."
Tears sting my eyes as I glance down at the field. They're talking? God, that makes me so happy. The absolute last thing I want is for the two of them to be at each other's throats over me.
"You didn't deny that he's your man," Briggs says, cocking his head to the side. "We're going to talk about that later."
"No, we're not."
"We are. He hit Tye."
"Tye deserved it." I stick my tongue out at him.
"Don't doubt it," he chuckles before turning to our mother, his expression going hard. "Mother."
"Briggs, dear." She flashes him a bright smile, patting the seat beside her. "Come sit beside me."
He mutters a curse under his breath, shooting me a look.
"Sorry," I mouth.
He just shakes his head before striding across the box to sit beside her. She launches into a complaint, which I immediately tune out, turning back to the field.
Sidney is on the sidelines, talking to their coach. I'm not sure if he feels my eyes on him or what, but he turns, looking directly up at the box. It feels like he's looking right at me.
I place my hand on the glass, my heart in my throat.
"You've got it so bad," Vanessa says softly.
I drop my hand, wheeling to face her. My cheeks are hot, my heart pounding. I don't deny it, though. I can't. The truth is…I do have it bad. So freaking bad.
I sink into the chair beside her with a groan. "Is it that obvious?"
"Just a little bit." She just grins at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "You look happy, Hattie. Are you happy?"
"I am." I peek over at her, swallowing hard. "It feels too good to be true."
"Why?"
My eyes dart toward my mother, who is still complaining about something to Briggs. Judging from the pissed look on his face, probably me. She's clearly already decided that I'm fully responsible for Tye and Sidney's fight, as if they're puppets on my strings.
Briggs mutters something to her, silencing her. I can't hear what he says, but she pales slightly, her gaze darting to me and then away.
I pretend not to notice, but Vanessa isn't easily fooled. She knows how things are with my mother. Tye refuses to leave Vanessa alone with her, just in case Mom gets any wild ideas about what she is and isn't allowed to say to his fiancée.
"Sometimes, the hardest part about the good things is learning to trust them," Vanessa says softly. "When you've lived with the bad shit for so long, you start to expect it. You get stuck in survival mode, and it feels like the good stuff is a trap."
"Yeah," I whisper, nodding.
"It's a lie, Hattie," she says gently. "It's what you've conditioned yourself to believe so you don't crash every time the rug gets pulled out from underneath you."
She's not wrong. I've gotten so used to being the one who never fit here that it feels…dangerous…to believe that I can find a place in this world, like I'm setting myself up for failure or something. And more than anything, I don't want to fail. I want to believe that I can keep the cranky, beautiful man who talks to me like I'm the most important thing in the world and looks at me like he's never seen anything more perfect.