Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Alex semi-clapped her hands together due to the cast on her arm and reached for the meal that Reggie was holding out to her.
Together they turned on their heels and walked back inside, and I followed at a much more sedate pace.
I could hear TJ hollering his displeasure the moment I rounded the corner of the kitchen, and I winced when I saw Hannah standing at the sink staring down at the dirty dishes…dishes I was also supposed to do.
TJ was in the seat on the counter directly next to the sink, and she started muttering under her breath when she turned on the faucet.
When she reached for the first pot, I stopped her by saying, “I’ll do that.”
She turned only her head and glared. “If you were going to do them, I’d think you’d have already done them.”
I didn’t have much to say to that.
She was partially right and partially wrong. I’d forgotten, yes. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to do them at all. Eventually, I would’ve come into the kitchen and seen them there filling up the sink, and then I would’ve washed them. Sure, it might be after dinner…oh, shit.
Not only had I forgotten to pick the kids up from daycare, but I’d also forgotten to cook dinner. Oh, and let’s not forget to wash the goddamn dishes.
I barely restrained myself from slapping my forehead in complete and utter failure.
“Hannah,” I started.
She shook her head. “I’m not in a good place right now. Please don’t make me start yelling at you in front of the kids.”
I snapped my mouth shut and then walked over to where she was standing.
I’d had a bad day.
I’d had a really, really bad day.
I’d started it out bad by Hannah walking in and overhearing what I was saying to Baylor—which had been me talking out of my ass, doing something stupid.
Then, I’d had to deal with all that shit swirling around me due to what Allegra had done.
The icing on the cake had been arriving outside once it was all over and seeing Hannah get on the back of a man’s bike—a man that I had a lot of unfinished business with.
Then I’d gotten my girl so I could have a talk with her about her mother, and what had gone down that day. And she’d calmed me down by saying just a few short words— ‘I want to stay with you, Daddy. I don’t want to go with her.’
And that had been the last of my anger.
So we’d talked, and caught up, and I hadn’t thought much about the rest of the afternoon. I hadn’t thought about dinner or getting the kids from daycare.
I hadn’t thought much of anything but spending time with a kid that didn’t tell me she hated me every chance she got anymore.
And I could tell without even speaking to her that Hannah was pissed.
Honestly, I couldn’t say that I blamed her.
“Okay,” I said, knowing when to stop. I was by no means finished with this conversation, but I knew that it needed to happen without the kids aware of every single thing that came out of our mouths.
So instead, I picked my son up and cradled his angry body to my chest.
He only wailed louder.
This, although kind of sucky, I could handle.
I could handle angry babies.
I could handle angry kids.
I could not handle Hannah’s anger. It hurt.
It physically hurt my heart to think of her upset in any way, and I knew that I was the one to make her upset. I was the one that put that frown on her face. I was the one that said something this morning that I didn’t mean.
Yeah, I had a lot of shit to make up for.
And I’d do that starting now.
Stopping next to TJ’s diaper bag, I pulled out the pacifier and popped it into his mouth.
It wouldn’t stop him from crying for long, but until he figured out that he didn’t like it, the screaming would be at an end.
“Travis, you forgot us.”
I winced at Reggie’s accusing words.
“I’m sorry, girl,” I told her sincerely. “I didn’t mean to forget you. I was working out in the garage, and since there were no windows, I couldn’t see that the sun was setting—signaling it was time to come get you. I’m sorry, Reg. Forgive me?”
Which was the truth. The garage had no windows, and if the garage door wasn’t up, then I had no basis for what time of day it was unless I looked at the clock on the wall. And even then, it was hit or miss on whether or not that was the real time or not.
That wasn’t a good enough excuse, though, and we both knew it.
“If you got me a phone, I could’ve called you and told you it was time to go,” she pointed out.