Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“You’d think he hadn’t eaten in a week,” Beth says, rolling her eyes.
“Beth usually has to bring the food when we come over,” Duncan says. “These three can rustle up some basics but nothing dinner party worthy.”
“Because you’re such a gourmet chef,” I say, feigning offense. In truth, cooking skills are not ones I care about developing in the slightest. Jesse and Clint are decent at grilling. I can make half-decent oatmeal and grilled cheese. I’m a boss at heating up canned soup.
“I don’t need to be,” Duncan admits, already heaping food onto a plate. “I have a very capable wife.”
“So does Clint now,” Beth says, eying Clint and then Taylor, suspicion growing in her expression. I swear she’s like a bloodhound when it comes to dishonesty.
“Everyone, help yourselves.” Taylor stands back while Jesse takes Barb’s jacket, and Beth fusses over small plates for the kids. I join her, enjoying the happy babble of the group. When I was a kid, our house always felt like an island that no one from outside our immediate family could ever cross to. It was silent so much, despite there being five children. We all knew that making too much noise could set Dad off. Mom moved around the house like a ghost, afraid to touch anything in case it was a trigger. When there was noise, it was the sound of my father’s escalating rage and the beatings that would ensue. I got really good at finding ways to avoid family life, making a den in the bottom of my closet that was only big enough for me to hide in.
The happy bustle around me here is such a blessing, but the contrast sets me on the outside. This isn’t my family. I’m an interloper enjoying someone else’s. I reckon now Taylor is, too.
“This is nice, huh?” I turn to witness the tell-tale signs that this isn’t typical for Taylor either. Wide eyes and flushed cheeks. A small smile plays at the edges of her mouth before dropping as she feels the same sense of uncertainty.
“Your previous homelife as bad as mine was?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes dart to mine. I had hoped that she would open up to me a bit more the other day when I told her what a prize-asshole my father was, but as yet, she still hasn’t said much about her family life.
“I can tell. The happiness feels foreign.”
She bites her lip, and her fingers twist together. I touch her arm gently and look up to find Beth staring directly at us.
Jesse waits until last to plate up his food, encouraging Taylor to go before him. We’re all seated at the table, tucking in as they move along the counter. I watch, silently urging them to keep up the pretense. Jesse has to keep his body language neutral and not mess up like I did.
Beth is cutting up the food for her twins while Duncan and Mitch talk about a small incident that occurred at the local penitentiary. “They need more to do,” Mitch says. “It doesn’t matter how much I talk about prison reform, I’m ignored at every turn.”
“You do your best.” Barb rests her hand on her husband’s forearm, and I momentarily lose concentration. When my eyes flick back up to Jesse and Taylor, he’s walking with her to the table with his hand on the small of her back. I’m not the only one to glance up at that moment.
Beth’s suspicious eyes linger on Jesse’s soft expression, then Clint’s almost religious focus on the plate in front of him, finally meeting my panicked gaze.
“Right. That’s it,” she says, lowering her silverware. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”
Jesse stops abruptly, and so does Taylor. Clint glances up, confused. The conversation slowly dies off around the table like it would in my house when the front door would slam like a gunshot, announcing my father was home.
“What are you talking about?” Jesse asks. He hasn’t realized that his voice sounds too high, which is a dead giveaway. Jesus. The shit’s about to hit the fan.
“I mean, why do you and Maverick look like you’re cozier with Clint’s new wife than he is? You both touch her like she’s your girlfriend, and he can’t even look at her.”
“Beth.” Jesse shoots his sister a warning look. The two of them share the same bullheadedness and the same inability to choose appropriate moments for confrontation.
“Don’t Beth me. I know you, Jesse McGraw. What are you up to?”
“Beth,” Duncan says, widening his eyes at his wife. “Just leave it. We’re in company.”
“Mitch and Barb aren’t company, they’re family, and I’m sure they’ll be just as interested in the truth as I am. Where’s Taylor living?”
Clint and I keep our mouths shut for fear of saying the wrong thing. This is Jesse’s house, and it’s Jesse’s idea. If anyone’s going to face Beth’s wrath, it’s going to be him.