Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Nonna, look!” Ellie beamed in the doorway to the living room, and she’d donned her latest kitten pajamas. “Trip has trains on his. Auntie Luna sent them to us.”
“I want to eat while it’s warm, please!” Trip announced.
Mom peered farther in and saw the coffee table. It was packed with the takeout we’d brought.
“What is this?” she whispered thickly.
I kissed the top of her head. “Thanksgiving in PJs—and you choose the movie as long as it doesn’t require subtitles.”
Dad extended a hand to her. “Come on, honey. I’ve got your blankets and everythin’ here.”
Mom swallowed hard and glanced up at me. “But you ordered dinner.”
“Fuck it. It was never gonna be as good as your food anyway,” I murmured.
Her eyes became glassy, and I helped her over to Dad, who assisted her to her seat in the left corner of the couch. Trip and Ellie took up the middle space, and the right corner became mine.
When West joined us, he went for the other chair.
I kept an eye on Mom as Ellie spoke loudly over everyone, claiming all the onion rings—of which I had ordered twenty—and West and I prepared plates for the kids. Dad filled a plate for Ma—
“Dad, that burger has no pickles.” I pointed. It was Mom’s.
“Ketchuuuup!”
“Princess, lower your voice.”
“Can we watch Minions?”
“Nonna’s choosing, champ.”
“I’mma steal all the onion rings—”
“No, Daddy!”
“For the love of God, Alfie.” West shot me a look. Always with the looks!
I snickered and threw a couple fries into my mouth.
Dad looked real content, sitting in his recliner, scarfing down a slice of pizza, and Mom—she was looking at me, and she had a small smile on her face.
“Thank you, mijo,” she mouthed.
I smiled back. “It was West’s idea.”
“I’m grateful for you both. This is perfect.”
I had to agree. West had saved Thanksgiving.
“Seven pizza boxes, two bags from Federal, six containers from Hershel’s, and more tinfoil than in a conspiracy theorist’s hat collection,” I announced, reentering the room. “We need to create healthier lunch habits, buddy.” I stopped short when I saw how quickly Colby closed a tab on his computer. “Are you watching porn at this ungodly hour?”
“What the fuck? No!”
I lifted my brows. What else did a sixteen-year-old do online that caused such a swift removal of evidence?
I walked over to the coffee table and threw all the soda cans and old napkins into the garbage bag.
Our little workplace condo was clean once more. Tomorrow, I’d bring over a Santa hat. Maybe pin it to the wall to really showcase our winter wonderland to all the zero people who visited. Well, Kellan stopped by sometimes to do inventory of the safes in the bedroom slash storage. In fact, he was coming over in twenty.
“So what were you doing?” I wondered.
He eyed me over his shoulder, hesitating. “You can’t tell West.”
Color me intrigued.
I walked over to his desk. “Your secret is likely safe with me.”
“Likely,” he muttered. Then he sighed and wheeled out his chair a bit. “I’m tryna figure out how I can get my GED, but I need some fuckin’ age waiver because I’m not eighteen yet.”
Damn.
I leaned back against the desk and pinched my lips together, and it was hard to not smile.
There was something about this kid. He was simultaneously heading in two different directions, one for me, and one for West. Given West’s hope for Colby to attend college, I hadn’t put pressure on him in the syndicate, opting to let things play out the way he wanted. But he clearly loved working for the Sons, and he’d admitted to wanting to become initiated one day. Where I saw a boring one-bedroom condo with stripped walls, very little furniture, and too many takeout containers, he saw an office he had plans for. He was the one who’d assembled the two desks next to each other. He was the one who’d created his own blueprints for how we could essentially turn the bedroom into a vault. He loved coming here every morning.
But he also loved listening to whatever West said. Secretly. The kid didn’t show it much, but I’d seen the books in the guest apartment at home. He was studying. It just hadn’t occurred to me that he was studying to get his GED.
“This is why you always have your nose in a book,” I deduced. “You’re a nerd.”
He smirked. “How the fuck did an adoption agency give you two kids, man?”
“I let West do most of the talking,” I replied, not missing a beat. “And it was two agencies, actually. With lots of home visits.” But let’s not get shit twisted. It’d been my idea to create baby books covering their history and heritage. Something we worked on together to update a few times a year. That was how good I was. “Kidding aside, this is great.” I nodded. “We’ll get’chu that age waiver somehow. As long as you’re prepared to start finding college pamphlets around the house. West won’t stop until you’re heading off to the Ivy League.”