The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3) Piper Sheldon (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

“Star Wars,” I said somberly.

“I may have a tramp stamp but I’m still a man.”

I smiled softly at him. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

He went very still. “Mom died when I was ten.”

My heart absolutely ached for him. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said and slid a smile in place. Always with the smile.

“Did your dad raise you?”

“Yeah. Dad’s American from Colorado. After she died, he brought me back here to be closer to his family. Also, I think, to get away from all the memories.”

I nodded. “I can understand that. Your dad?”

A shadow moved over his face. “Early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

“Was that hard? He must have been young, if you’re only thirty-four,” I asked. Suddenly I was desperate to understand more. I guess I’d assumed someone so happy must have lived a charmed life.

He scratched at his chin where there was a hint of a dark blond five-o’clock shadow. “So you were paying attention. Chris and I were twins separated at birth. I don’t have any proof outside my stellar good looks.”

“You certainly don’t lack for confidence,” I muttered.

He was avoiding the subject. I may have RBF but he hid with smiles and silly charm.

“Ah, don’t make that face,” he said. “I’m fine. I promise. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s a downer.”

“You don’t have to …” I said but I wasn’t sure how to finish. But really what I was thinking was that it was fucking tragic. I was about to ask if he was really okay but he stood again and brushed his pants off.

“Actually, we should probably head back,” he said.

“Okay.” This time I didn’t argue. I felt … drained. And sad. I wanted to be alone too.

We packed up in silence but it didn’t take long. I wished there was more to pack. I was ready to be alone but I also wanted him to talk more. It wasn’t just his alluring accent either. This was a side of Sanders I hadn’t seen and it intrigued me.

“Sienna Diaz, huh?” he said a few minutes later.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

He nodded when I shut that line down. I was so not ready to talk about Jethro Winston.

“Why did your parents forget to pick you up?” he asked.

I froze. I had thought we’d skated past that accidental overshare.

“Geez, asking all the easy ones. They’re just a little flighty,” I quickly added. “Ya know what’s weird?”

He held my focus for a beat before sighing. “What?”

“I’ve never lost that game before. I mean I still didn’t lose. But I’ve never been so close,” I said as we began to walk back.

“It is really weird.” He studied the ground carefully as he stepped. More carefully than the trail required. “I’ve been playing this game with people for years and never seen this sort of success rate. I thought I had perfected lying.”

“Not to sound like a psycho …” I said.

“Hmm,” he said. His gaze was distant.

“I always win this game. No matter how many shots of tequila I drank, I always won against any Wraith.”

“Wraith?”

“The Iron Wraiths. Just a club I used to hang around.”

“What kind of club? Like that one with Gretchen? The book club.”

“No. Not like that.” I doubted most of the Wraiths could even read. “They’re bad news. I don’t think about them anymore.”

“Okay,” Sanders said casually. “If you ever want to talk about it …”

“And if you ever want to talk about your past,” I snapped back.

I wasn’t being fair but I wasn’t about to pour my heart out because we played one game. Life wasn’t that simple. People certainly weren’t. We may be able to read each other easily—unnervingly so—but it didn’t mean anything.

This closeness bridged felt like too much, too soon. But I’d felt like that since our first night together. A bird squawked loudly in the tree above us.

I backed up. “I better get to work.”

He blinked a couple times and said, “Yeah, me too.”

“In the morning, let’s meet to discuss the plan,” I said. “For MooreTek.”

He smiled genuinely. “That’d be great.”

Sanders and I might have a connection I couldn’t quite explain, but he was leaving soon and I needed to focus on work. We could play nice together, but it wasn’t any more than that. It couldn’t be any more than that.

Chapter 15

Sanders

Skip once told me about this thing called cry porn. It was when people purposely watched those videos of deaf babies hearing for the first time, or neglected dogs being rescued back to health. He said sometimes he watched them when the sadness got too close to the surface and he just needed to crack it open and let out some of his gooey softness.

I never understood that. Leaning fully into the pain of life. Better to keep moving, never settling. Let me be the river that washed around the boulder never moving it. I went on adventures, bungee jumped, skydived. Anything that spiked my adrenaline, reminding me I was alive. That’s what I needed.

I needed to get away but I was already away in a new town. The intense session with Roxy inexplicably caused acid in my throat, sending me straight back to my room to pop more antacids. I was reaching for my phone when the air-conditioning unit clicked on in the room. Something about the Freon smell and the heavy hum of the unit in the tiny room sent my mind back in time to a month ago. Not even a month.

My dad, fifty pounds too light, sat in the stiff-backed chair at the care home. His pale flesh, papery and bruised. His eyes saw nothing at all. He wasn’t speaking then. I couldn’t stand looking at him like that. I physically couldn’t stomach it. Sometimes he’d laugh. It was best when he laughed because then I thought at least wherever he was, he wasn’t suffering.

I gasped for air as the acid churned in my gut.

“Shit,” I said and ran to the bathroom.

I retched up the nuts and fruit