Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
She frowns, but she doesn’t say no when I offer her the medicine.
“Good girl.”
“I don’t usually like to be taken care of,” she informs me.
“I know.”
“But, thank you. It’s comforting to have you here. My brothers would hover annoyingly. And my mom is great, but she’s not nearly as nice to snuggle with as you are.”
I crawl onto the bed and pass her a mug of coffee. This one says, I asked for pizza, not your opinion.
Her mugs crack me the fuck up.
“Are your parents in Arizona now?”
“Yeah.” She takes a sip and then looks up at me in surprise. “This doesn’t taste like shit.”
“Well, halleluiah.”
“Thanks.” She takes another sip. “My parents are snowbirds. They head down right after Thanksgiving and then come back for Memorial Day.”
“So I just missed them, then.”
“You did. Brad will call and tell them what happened, and then I’ll have to convince them not to come home just for this.”
“They love you.”
“Yeah. And they worry. Dad was a cop for a lot of years, so he’s protective. And Mom is, well, a mom.”
“I’m not close to my family,” I reply, surprised to be talking about it. I never do. I’ve grown so used to not talking about myself over the years, I don’t think about it.
But I enjoy sharing with Jenna.
“How come?”
“Oh, a million reasons. My dad’s an alcoholic, and he’s not a nice drunk. My mom left him when I was a kid when she moved us to L.A.”
“So that’s how that happened.”
“Yeah. She was obsessed with making me a child actor.”
“It worked.”
“And she was the clichéd momager.”
“Was she as bad as Lindsay Lohan’s mom?”
“Oh, yeah. Just as bad. And she took a lot of my money, as well. Said she was just paying herself, but that’s not what it was. She was stealing what I earned.”
“Ugh, that fucking sucks.” She takes my hand and kisses my fingers. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Where is she now?”
“She still lives in L.A., last I heard. She has a nice house and all of the things she always wanted. She just doesn’t have me.”
“Do you make sure she has those things?”
I frown. “You see too much.”
“I’m learning you,” she agrees. “You love her, and I could see you making sure she’s okay, even if you don’t want to see her. Is Nina close to her?”
“Not super close, but she sees her once in a while.”
She nods and yawns, then nibbles on a cracker. “I’m getting sleepy again.”
“Eat your cracker, and then you can sleep.”
She does as I say, which is a testament to how out of it she is. I hate that the fight has gone out of her today.
I set our mugs aside, and we snuggle down into the covers again, falling asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
~Jenna~
“I’M BOOOOOOORED,” I say and throw my head back on the couch about as dramatically as I possibly can.
“It’s only been three days,” Christian replies, his hands on his hips as he stares down at me in frustration. Not that he’s said he’s frustrated, but let’s be honest, I’d be frustrated with me.
“Can’t we just go up and get you some new clothes from the tree house? I need to look in on them. Max is not good at this stuff, and I have guests.”
“I’m not driving you on that road again,” he says, shaking his head. “No way, no how.”
“It’s settled, then.” I stand and lean in to kiss his arm as I walk by. “I’ll drive.”
“Jenna,” he says with a sigh, pushing his hand through his hair, which is definitely his signature I’m-gonna-spank-you move.
“Christian, I have to go back up there. My business is up there. And you have to go up there because you have ski lessons and all of your things are there.”
“I’ve cancelled the rest of the lessons,” he replies, and my jaw drops. “I need to be available to you.”
“I’m fine.” I dance a fake jig and turn a circle, then hold my hands out and say, “Ta-da.”
“Also, I know how to ski now. I feel confident that I’ll do great in the film. I’m good on the skiing.”
“Well, you still need your things.”
“I can pay someone to gather them and bring them to me.”
I roll my eyes and sigh heavily. “None of that changes the fact that my property is up there, and I have to work.”
“Tomorrow.” He walks to me and pulls me against him, rocking us back and forth. “Let’s pretend like we don’t have to go back up there for one more day.”
“It’s like getting back on a horse,” I say, my words muffled by his chest. “You have to do it sometime. And aren’t you sick to death of these clothes?”
“I just wash them every day.”
“You’re being silly.”
His arms tighten around me. “It was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through, and I’d rather not repeat it.”