Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Yeah… I definitely agreed, but I had to prepare myself too. I had left DC for a reason. Or two. Not measuring up next to my brothers and…well, the brother next to me on this very couch.
And to think, I could be a Middle around him?
Oh crap. What if I crossed a line and made him uncomfortable?
“What just happened?” he asked. “Your face fell.”
No need to beat around the bush. I’d come this far. “I’m worried I might overstep if I’m in my Middle space. You have to tell me if I go too far. I mean, it’s one thing to be myself, but it’s a whole other to treat you like you’re in charge of me or something.”
He cleared his throat and grabbed his coffee cup. “I think I can handle a cheeky brat giggling up a storm and pushing buttons. I don’t know what else you might consider overstepping. We’re family.”
Yeah, about that…
I scratched the side of my neck.
In other words, it didn’t even occur to him that I might have another type of feelings for him.
An extra harsh wind whooshed over the cabin, causing something to creak in the structure, and I looked up at the beams in the ceiling.
“We’re safe, Kayden.”
I smiled at him. “I know. I trust you.”
And I trusted him to let me down gently if I accidentally got too affectionate or invaded his personal space.
Wade finished his coffee in two gulps. “I’ve postponed this enough, I’m afraid. I have to take the dogs out, but I suspect we’ll be back in minutes.”
I did not envy the doggies. I’d been out on the porch, and that was enough! It was super windy and cold.
While he was out, I could start thinking about how long I had to stay with Dad. As comfortable as it was, I wanted my own place—which cost a lot of money. A fucker needed to hold down a job in order to pay rent.
The first couple of hours, Wade seemed to be on edge and observing me semi-discreetly, as if to figure out who I was. He sat on the other section of the couch with a new book, but the pages didn’t turn as frequently as usual.
I didn’t have a whole lot to do, so I was just writing lists of things I needed for my return to DC. Extensive lists, like of what I could sell or throw out in my tiny studio apartment in Dallas. Good thing nobody in my family had been there, ’cause they’d balk at the conditions. Every time Dad had wanted to fly out, I’d suggested we go camping instead.
My throw-out list was very, very long. My sell-this list had three items, but one was a collectible I was fairly sure I could get a few hundred bucks for, and moving was expensive.
“I wish I could print money,” I said. “Only for a little while. Nobody would notice.”
Wade glanced up from his book. “Chris tried that once when we were young. He copied a five-dollar bill and printed it in black and white, proud as hell, and went to the store to buy candy.”
I laughed. That was so funny. “How did that go?”
He smirked. “He came home enraged because the store owner had just laughed at him.”
I could totally see it.
“Do you need money for anything in particular?” he asked next.
I shrugged. “I have some stuff I want with me from Dallas.” I eyed my list of such items. “My gaming chair, clothes, collection of pillowcases, sneakers—”
“You collect pillowcases?” He turned curious.
“Yessir.” I grinned. “I have thirty-seven of them now, and they all go on my big pillow.” Which I also wanted to bring with me. It was one of those longer pillows you found in hotels. “It’s better than any stuffed animal in the world.”
He closed his book and shifted in his seat to rest an arm along the back of the couch. “I admit I’m curious about your Middle-isms, especially since I can’t imagine this place offers you anything to make you happy.”
Oh, I could think of one thing.
“I take it you don’t care about stuffed animals,” he deduced. “What about other toys and hobbies?”
I had several of them! “I still collect Pokémon cards,” I admitted sheepishly. “And baseball cards and some hockey cards.” I continued, because he appeared genuinely interested. “I have a ton of comics too, and I like to draw my own—not that I’m any good at it.”
“According to you, you’re not good at anything,” he pointed out. “I’m sure you’re great at it.”
Um, I wasn’t.
“I love to make cupcakes,” I added. “They’re super tasty and fun to decorate. I love frosting. I use Yaya’s brownie recipe, so the cupcakes come out flat…? That way, you can fit more frosting on there.”
He smiled. “Clever. I don’t suppose it’s a hobby of yours to have a savings account.”