Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“There you go. Much better,” he praised, then began to clean the mess he’d made between my legs. “I like this freckle,” he said, running the back of his finger over the singular freckle I had on my upper right thigh.
It was high enough and on the inside that no one ever saw it, even in a bikini. I’d never paid much attention to it myself. But hearing him say he liked it made it suddenly important.
“I’d suggest we go back to the house and swim, naked,” he said, flashing me a wicked grin. “But I’d end up pinning you against the side and doing this again.”
I didn’t see the problem with that. Although I’d never skinny-dipped. But with Forge, I thought I could do it.
“Keep looking at me like that, Pickles, and we might never go back,” he warned, then winked at me.
The warmth in my chest spread, along with a feeling that I didn’t want to name. I realized I couldn’t control or stop it. I was falling in love with Forge Savelle. It might be the most reckless, foolish thing I’d ever done, but it was happening anyway.
Thirty-Seven
Forge
Returning to the house to see so many people were back annoyed me, but then it might be for the best.
I hadn’t planned on doing anything sexual with Elsie when I took her out to the pond. I had just wanted to get her out of the house. I couldn’t imagine how smothering not being able to go anywhere must feel. She hadn’t complained once about it though. While Lula Mae fucking whined if she wasn’t entertained for five damn minutes.
Trying to watch the games that were now on the screen in the great room was difficult when Elsie was across the room, talking to Winslet and Halo. I wanted to watch her instead, but there were too many nosy motherfuckers in here who would notice and say something. I didn’t want to discuss Elsie with any of them. That was mine. My secret.
Oz shoved an iPad at me. “You’re done with getting her out of the house. Now help,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and looked down at the screen, then glanced over at Elsie. She’d want to help out. I’d get to be close to her and watch her without anyone thinking something of it. But she was on the floor with Hawkins now, smiling as she helped him build a Lego set. I liked it when she was smiling. She’d been doing more and more of it lately.
“Dad called,” Oz said, snapping me out of my Elsie thoughts, and I swung my gaze back to him.
“What did he say?” My stomach had instantly clenched at his words.
Oz’s jaw worked back and forth as he glared at the screen. “Didn’t work.” He said the two words that I had dreaded the most. “Mom wants to come home. She doesn’t want to be sick while …” He stopped.
He didn’t have to say more. I knew the rest. I couldn’t inhale. My throat had closed up. Tossing the iPad on the sofa, I headed for the nearest exit. I needed air. Space. The walls were closing in around me.
“Forge.”
I heard Oz call my name, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t respond. How was he so damn calm? How was Kash sitting over on the sofa with Cressida in his lap as if life were okay? As if our world wasn’t about to be destroyed. Left void.
Shoving open the door, I stalked across the patio, turning away from the lit pool area and into the darkness to stand alone. Throwing back my head, I let out the pain. The sound of my own voice was foreign.
She was giving up. Coming home. How could she do that to us? If she stopped treatments, then there was no hope. Nothing to cling to. She would … she would die. We would lose her.
“Forge.”
Elsie’s voice only reminded me of what I’d done. What we had done earlier. Guilt came with it. Because I had been happy. How could I enjoy something when my mother was suffering? What kind of son was I?
“Go away,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I—”
“Go. Away,” I demanded, cutting off whatever she was going to say. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want her understanding or comfort. I wanted to be alone.
When I didn’t hear her footsteps retreating in the grass, anger boiled inside me, along with the other agony churning there. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” I shouted.
Why wouldn’t she just go?! Leave me out here in my own grief. I didn’t need a reminder of my mistakes. My weakness.
The sound of grass crunching beneath her feet followed this time. I stood still, holding my breath until they were gone. A hollowness settled in my chest. One I was familiar with. One that I deserved. I was losing my mother. There should be no moments of pleasure or joy. How could there be? For me to enjoy life was fucked up. Grief was all I should feel.