Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Fine, when?”
Closing my eyes, I whisper, “Next month. Whenever you like. Just let me know, so I can make sure I don’t make plans for Hunter. I know there are a few camps here he’s interested in.”
“Fine. Where is he now? I called his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up.”
“Sleeping. Like I said, it’s only six here, and he was up late talking to his friends back in Seattle on Skype.”
“You really shouldn’t let him stay up so late, Shelby,” he scolds, sounding disapproving, and again, that’s not a surprise.
“It’s summer, Max, and his ‘late’ is ten, not three in the morning,” I mutter, wondering how the hell I put up with him for so many years. “I’ll have him call you when he gets up.”
“Don’t tell him I’m coming out. I want to tell him that myself.”
“Will do,” I grumble, looking at the coffee pot and begging it to hurry up.
“Talk to you later.”
“Talk to you later,” I agree, setting the phone down on the counter. I make myself a cup of coffee and take it out to the back deck, drinking it while the morning sun beats down on me.
Chapter 2
Shelby
Leaning against the counter behind me, I jot down a few more things on my list then pause to watch Hunter stumble into the kitchen in his rumpled T-shirt and sweats.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask with a smile, as he takes a seat on one of the dining room chairs and rests his head on the table in front of him. I know he must be tired. Yesterday, all of our stuff arrived, so we spent most of the day lugging boxes around the house and unpacking. This was only after spending the two days before that cleaning and taking stuff to the local thrift shop.
“Yeah,” he mumbles to the top of the table¸ making me smile.
“You should have slept in, honey.”
“I don’t like sleeping in.” He yawns, sitting up, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I know he enjoys his sleep just as much as me, but his dad has pounded it into his head since he was little that sleeping in is something lazy people do.
When I first got together with Max, he used to laugh about how much I enjoyed sleeping. After awhile, though, my sleeping habits, as well as a lot of other things, became one more of the little things that annoyed him about me. Something he no longer thought was cute or endearing, and believe me, by the end, there was a long list of things Max no longer liked about me.
“Do you want me to make you something for breakfast?”
“I’m just going to have cereal,” he says, standing from the table and going to the fridge, grabbing the gallon of milk.
“When you’re done, we’ll head into town and get our fishing licenses and a couple of poles, and then we can pick up lunch somewhere. We’ll take it with us to a place Gramps used to take me fishing.”
“Really?” he asks, and his whole face lights up as he pours an absurd amount of sugary cereal into his bowl on top of his milk.
“Definitely.” I smile then cringe as the doorbell rings, making a horrendous sound chime through the house. “I think we need to get that fixed,” I say under my breath, and he laughs, stunning me with the carefree sound. Instead of doing what I want to do, which is lean over and hug him or touch him in some way, I give him a small smile and head for the door with a smile on my face.
Things between us have been getting better by the day. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t feel like he has to choose between his father and me, or if it’s because he feels more relaxed here. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.
Swinging the door open, my heart speeds up when my eyes meet Zach’s. Since that night out on my balcony, I’ve caught glimpses of him coming or going from his house and around town, but I haven’t talked to him again.
“Hey.” I rest against the doorframe, wondering what he’s doing here so early. Looking like he just got out of the shower, his dark hair is still wet. The stubble that was on his jaw days ago is gone, leaving me wondering if I like him more with the facial hair or without. Instead of a plaid shirt today, he has on a long-sleeved Henley that is the same green as his eyes.
“Corneal left this with Aubrey yesterday.” He dips his chin to a large box in his hands then steps forward, forcing me back into the house. I watch him head for the living room, just off the front door, and set the box down on the coffee table, causing it to shake with the weight.