Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
It hurts.
It cuts me to the bone, knowing she’s that fragile right now, and I’m the only thing holding her together after my dumbass tried so hard to pull her apart.
“Do you and the kid have sleepovers often?” My lips turn up at the thought of Miss Frosty having a sleepover with a bouncy kidlet.
“Not often, but we do sometimes. Usually if Abby has a date or goes out of town to visit friends,” she tells me.
“You’re a good aunt.”
“I have to be.” She shrugs. “Abby and Millie are my only family. We have to be tight.”
“I get that. Ward and Grandma are my only family, too.”
“And Paige.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s nothing like a new sister-in-law to mix things up,” I say with a snort. “Sometimes she’s on my side, busting Ward’s balls. Other times, they’re stomping on mine. Husband-wife team.”
That gets a giggle, which makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something tonight.
“I thought your parents were still living, too?” she asks quietly. “After all the crazy stuff and bad things they did...are you really cutting them out forever?”
“We don’t talk.” I leave it at that, and it’s nice to be able to say that and trust it won’t go any further.
Reese gets it.
I just hate that I’m finally not the person with the most fucked up family in the room, for once. As it stands, the battered dove next to me needs a break. Not Brandt-level heartbreak.
Tonight, I’ll do my damnedest to make sure her family stays whole.
7
Nick the Prick (Reese)
My colossal prick of a boss is driving me to my sister’s beat-up apartment, and I’m letting him.
Wait, scratch that.
My pure fire billionaire boss is driving me to my sister’s beat-up apartment, and I’m secretly impressed that he wants to help.
Oh, I’m aware how stupid that is. Nothing about this promises a happy ending.
We’re heading for a wall of rock-solid drama and I don’t even know when to brace for impact.
Still, I’m lucky he was here, because back at the gas station...I’m not sure I could have driven myself anywhere. And for Millie’s sake, I don’t have time to waste getting my crap together.
“I have to get that attorney,” I mutter for the tenth time tonight.
“We’ll take care of it,” Nick insists, his green eyes twinkling with promise.
When did he get so patient? He doesn’t even point out we’ve already had this conversation.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I whisper, speaking my doubts out loud.
“She’ll be fine with her favorite aunt.”
“I’m her only aunt,” I point out. “And how can you be so sure?”
“I’m a Brandt. I’d like to think I inherited Grandma’s gut instinct. If she’s not smiling by the end of the night with you, I’ll make it happen.” He flashes that smile, that defiant gaze that says he might give my niece her own petting zoo to make good on his promise.
Okay, so he’s patient, but still cocky as hell.
I don’t know why I believe him when he tells me he’ll make sure Abby comes out of this unscathed. Pretty absurd, considering he’s never met her, but that’s how desperate I am.
The bossman finally pulls into the old orange-and-white brick building.
“Where’s her unit?”
“All the way down and to the left.”
He gets us as close to Abby’s unit as he can and stops the car.
I’m still in the seat after he’s stepped out. My chest feels ten pounds heavier. I’m struggling to breathe again.
I try not to make a show of forcing air in through my nose.
No luck. Those green hawk eyes of his are all-seeing, and he leans down so we’re eye level.
“You were calm. What happened?”
“What if she’s not here? What if today’s the one day Abby used a different babysitter and I don’t know who?” Silly, I know. But everything’s gone wrong today and I have this terrible feeling the universe isn’t done short-circuiting.
“You’re worried about Millie. That’s understandable. You’ve had a hard day—a hell of a time—but if Abby usually has her neighbor babysit, that’s where we’ll start. If she didn’t, whatever. We’ll find your munchkin.”
God.
It was so easy to accept his promise that Abby would be okay, but it’s harder to believe even a Brandt could miraculously find a missing four-year-old at the snap of his fingers.
My fist tightens. I take another deep breath full of needles.
The driver’s door closes. I look up in surprise, wondering if he’s given up on me and my crying act.
A few seconds later, my door opens. Nick takes my hand.
“Come on, Miss Halle. I don’t know this Gamlin lady, and the kid won’t come to me. You can do this.”
“But what if—”
“I’ll hire a private investigator. You’re not going home without your niece tonight. Do you trust me?” he growls in question, that haunted, steely look I know too well hardening on his face.
Sighing, I twine my fingers around his and let him help me out of the car. He shuts the door behind me.