Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
He nods. “So you think they’re involved and trying to keep it quiet.”
“I don’t know anything for sure,” I say. “But if that turned out to be the case, I wouldn’t be all that shocked. Or even surprised.”
“If they’re just screwing around, that’s one thing,” Gage says. “But if it’s serious …”
“I can talk to Ava,” I say. “See if she knows anything more.”
“Good idea.” He tugs me close with an arm around my waist and kisses me lightly. “Thanks, babe.”
“Food’s ready,” Thorn announces, and we move to help him get it on the table. But a corner of my mind is already planning my call to Ava.
FRANK
Zeb and I are at home on one of our days off, and Griffin’s off rehearsing with his band. I’m working on yet another sculpture of Ember; it’s the only way I have of getting my feelings out instead of them eating me up.
My phone pings, and I check it to see a message from the woman in question. I think I left something at your house. Are you guys around?
Come on over, I answer immediately, my mood already improved. Sure, we see her every workday at the shop, but it’s like being a starving man who’s on the other side of a bulletproof glass shield from the food that would save him.
Ember’s not happy. She hides it well, and I doubt any of the clients have noticed anything, but we can tell. And if she’s not happy, we’re not happy. It’s all we can do not to take it out on each other with constant sniping, or beating each other up like we’re in junior high again.
I go inside, wash my hands, and find Zeb in the kitchen. He’s spent most of his time here since Ember left; I guess it’s his coping mechanism, like my art is for me. Griffin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to want to be here at all. He’s out almost every night, jamming with one band or another, and when he’s home he spends a lot of time in his room, noodling on his acoustic guitar.
Without preamble, I say, “Ember’s coming over.”
Zeb’s head snaps up, and the wild hope on his face shreds me. We’re all broken up about her and trying to find ways to hide it.
“She thinks she left something here.”
The light in his eyes dies. “Oh.” He turns his head back to whatever he’s doing at the stove.
“But she’s coming,” I persist, as much for his sake as my own.
A wary look this time. “What do you mean?”
“She could ask us to bring it to the shop. She doesn’t need to come over here to get it, whatever it is. If it were an emergency, she would have asked us about it before now.”
He thinks about this for a moment, then turns down the heat on the stove. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
I do the same, and both of us are scrubbed and ready by the time her ride pulls up, like awkward boys at prom waiting for their queen. I’ve never been like this with a woman before.
None of them mattered like Ember does.
She knocks on the door, the sound tentative, and it pisses me off. She should always feel at home here, and anyway, we knew she was coming. “It’s open,” I call.
When she comes in, Zeb and I are sprawled at opposite ends of the couch, doing our best to seem casual and unconcerned. She stops just inside the door, her eyes going back and forth between us. Maybe we’re not hiding our mood as well as we think.
I smile in what I hope is a friendly, welcoming way and pat the empty cushion between me and Zeb. “Hey, have a seat.”
I’m sure I’m going to behave—I have every intention of it—until the moment she sits next to me. The next second she’s in my lap and my arms are around her, holding her close, my face buried in her hair. “Fuck. Sorry. Fuck. Give me a minute.”
She doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she burrows into me, holding me just as tightly. I keep her in my arms for as long as I dare, and as soon as my grip starts to loosen, Zeb reaches for her. Without a word, I pick her up and transfer her to his arms, where they embrace each other with the same intensity.
But when Zeb tilts her head up and captures her mouth in a kiss, I shift closer to them. No way am I letting him have that goodness all to himself.
Instead of snarling at me when they come up for air, he hands her back over, and I waste no time kissing her like it’s been years. She seems just as hungry, and I never want it to end.