Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Sure. That sounds good.” Skye checks her phone and frowns. “Violet still hasn’t answered my text this morning.”
“Maybe she’s sleeping in? Miller sometimes plays video games all hours of the night. He could have wrangled Violet into playing them with him,” I offer.
“It’s possible. She did tutor all day yesterday and then she had a meeting with the Mathletes, so I’m sure she’s exhausted.”
An hour later, we drive down my street and Skye’s hope that her daughter slept in because of all her math-ish endeavors fizzles. “Are those red plastic cups littering the lawn?”
“Miller better not have thrown a party while we were away or I’ll ground him until he gets shipped off to training camp,” I grumble as I turn into the driveway.
“Maybe someone else on the street threw a party,” Skye’s voice is high and nervous. The truck is still moving and her door is already open.
I shift into park and we both hop out, leaving our bags and the mostly empty cooler in the trunk.
Skye grabs my arm when we reach the hood of the SUV. “Oh God. Is that a used condom on the driveway? That looks like a used condom, Sidney.”
I follow her gaze. An inch from her foot is a green condom. At least they had the decency to tie a knot in the end so the contents aren’t splattered all over my interlock. But its location begs a lot of questions. As does the color. “It’s a used condom,” I regretfully agree.
“Oh God. Teenage parties are the worst. Violet better still be a virgin. All she’s done so far is kiss a couple of boys. I need her to make good decisions until college, or hopefully later, when boys don’t have their heads up their asses when it comes to finding the hot buttons.” She releases my arm and stalks across the driveway, skirting around plastic cups and another condom.
My hands are unsteady as I unlock the door and usher Skye into the front hall. We’re lulled into a false sense of security until we reach the kitchen and living room. The inside of the house looks far worse than I ever could have expected. Red plastic cups litter the counter and every other available surface. Chips bags and their contents are scattered across the floor. It smells like the inside of a brewery and a jockstrap. I spot at least two more condoms on the floor. Not in their wrappers. There are two boxes of condoms on the coffee table, both open.
Skye looks appropriately horrified as she calls out, “Violet?”
We glance at each other and rush for the stairs. She makes it to the spare room before I do. “Oh God. Oh, my God. She’s not here!” She runs into the room and throws open the bathroom door. “She’s not here! And there are condom wrappers on the floor! Oh God. Oh my God.” She spins around and grabs my arms. “Where is she? What did she do? What did I let happen?”
“Maybe the used condom wrappers aren’t hers,” I say, unhelpfully.
“I don’t know if that’s better or not. Who was fucking in her bedroom then? And where is she? She hasn’t texted since last night at ten-thirty. She said she was coming back here. And I’ve heard nothing from her since! What if she was kidnapped?” Panic has clearly taken over. It’s understandable. Violet is a sweet, quirky, nerdy girl. At least at first. Once she’s comfortable, her sassy side shows, and she comes out with some stunning one-liners.
“Let’s check Miller’s room. Maybe he knows where she is.” He better know where she is, or he’s grounded for the rest of his goddamn life.
“Yes. Okay. Yes. Let’s do that.” Skye nods compulsively and follows me down the hall to my son’s room.
“Miller?” I knock twice. “I’m coming in.”
I throw open the door.
The smell is the first thing to register. It’s slightly sour, and definitely beer-y. It’s only partially masked by the cologne. Miller is passed out in his bed, the sheets mostly thrown off. They cover him from waist to knee.
There’s a body beside him. A small body. Although everyone looks small compared to my son. But this small body is also familiar. Horribly familiar.
“This isn’t happening.” Skye grabs my arm, nails digging into my skin. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” My blood pressure feels like it’s gone up a hundred points in the last five seconds.
If my son charmed my fiancée’s daughter into his bed, I’m going to lose my ever-loving shit. Loudly.
Miller rolls over onto his back and the sheets shift with him. He’s not wearing boxers. In fact, he’s not wearing anything.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE
Miller
A siren blares. No. Wait. It’s not a siren, someone is screaming my name. I blink a few times, but the brightness in the room, combined with the shouting, isn’t great. I have the wickedest headache. My brain feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise. It’s awful.