Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Upon hearing the commotion, a person rounded the corner of my kitchen and stared at me with confusion on her face.
My sister, Val looked me up and down, a frown marring her brow as she took in my attire.
“What the hell are you wearing?” she asked. “And why are you covered in dirt?”
I grinned. “Well, I guess, maybe, I forgot my key again.”
She blinked.
“What do you mean you forgot your key? You got in the door with that stupid bracelet.”
I grimaced. “Well, this morning I was a bit oxygen deprived, and when I got here, I forgot that I’d made this into a bracelet, okay? I was just tired, and my legs hurt, so I just kind of sat down on that big rock in the flower bed and waited for someone to come home.”
“I literally came in over an hour ago,” she pointed out. “Why didn’t you come in when I got here?”
I continued to scratch my head. “I might’ve fallen asleep on the rock. Then rolled off into the flower bed.”
She shook her head. “What woke you up?”
I might or might not be impossible to wake up when I was taking a nap. Or hell, when I was sleeping.
I slept hard, and there wasn’t a damn thing shy of a natural disaster—and even then, it would have to be a big natural disaster—that would wake me up.
“Stupid Nash,” I grumbled under my breath, heading into the kitchen.
Val burst out laughing.
The thing about my big sister, she knew everything.
I wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did.
It was damn near impossible to hide anything from her.
Like what Nash meant to me.
Months ago, when I first met him, I’d been awestruck.
Why?
Because he was my absolute favorite person in the world.
I knew everything there was to know about him—that was freely given on the internet, that is. His stats. His career highlights. His favorite cookie. His parents’ names. His sisters’ names. His brothers’ names.
I knew it all, and had it memorized since he’d first come onto the racing scene.
Now, why do I love NASCAR, and Nash Christopherson so much?
I had no clue.
One of the only things I could really remember from my childhood was that we’d watch NASCAR a lot.
Not in person like my dad did, but on the television for sure.
See, my dad set Singh Circus’s schedule around the NASCAR schedule. The only time he would deviate off of their race schedule was when they were in the off season.
But even in the off season, he still watched reruns of the races.
And since that was the only thing that we were allowed to watch half the time—he was very strict on what we watched and what we did in our off time with the circus—I got sucked in.
Then one day, Nash Christopherson came into my life.
As a brand-new rookie, he won the NASCAR championship. And my adoration with him was cemented.
But also, to be completely honest, it was because my dad hated him. Absolutely loathed him.
He disliked that a rookie driver would come in and beat out his ‘guy.’ He also couldn’t stand Nash’s ‘pretty boy face’ and the way he snubbed him one time when Dad got pit passes.
The night Nash had done that, my father had come home with so much anger rolling through him that he’d beat the shit out of me.
Not that any of my sisters knew that.
They thought that, as the baby, I was untouched by my dad’s mood swings and violence.
And that was the way it would stay for the rest of their lives. As far as they were concerned, they’d protected me from him.
My vile, piece of shit father, who I tried to find good things about, was nothing more than a monster. A monster I’d thought took his anger out on only me when I was growing up. But over the past years since my father’s death—a death that had happened via Hades, my sister, murdering him when she found him raping a young girl—I’d learned more and more vile things about him than I ever wanted to know.
At this point, Nash was just a huge ‘fuck you’ to my father.
I followed his races. I snuck over to watch them when I could. And ultimately, I adored him.
But I couldn’t ever let him know that.
Not ever.
Hence why I was so weird when I was around him.
I was starstruck.
“What did you do this time?” Val asked.
I started to snicker. “I told him I was grounding when he found me in the flower bed.”
She blinked at me, her head shaking. “You did what?”
“Earthing,” I said. “It’s where…”
She held up her hand to stop me. “I know what earthing is. I’m just trying to figure out why the hell you told him that.”
I shook my head, feeling a stick drop out of my hair as I did.