Rocking Kin (Lucy & Harris, #3) - Terri Anne Browning Page 0,50
Maybe now I could add one more friend to my short list, and be able to confide in him like I’d once done a million years ago.
As I climbed into the back of Georgia and Carolina’s car, Georgia shot me a smirk in the review mirror. “Mother wants to talk to you.”
I barely refrained from rolling my eyes as I pulled my cellphone out of my messenger bag. “I bet she does,” I muttered as I swiped my finger over the screen and saw that I had ten text messages waiting on me from Jace.
My heart jumped in my chest but I quickly squelched the excitement. I’d turned my phone on silent that morning and hadn’t even looked at the damn thing all day. Pulling up the messages, I saw that he’d started out with a simple “good morning, beautiful,’ but as the day had gone by he’d gotten more impatient since I hadn’t replied to any of his texts. The last one was all caps, practically shouting at me.
ARE YOU STILL COMING TONIGHT??? I WANT TO SEE YOU! CALL ME!
I shook my head and started to type out a quick text ten seconds before Georgia nearly took out our neighbor’s mailbox—and the neighbor who was standing beside the mailbox going through his stack of mail. My heart still pounding and nausea making me actually taste bile in the back of my throat, I hit send.
Chill out. My phone was on mute. I’ll be there. See you then. Can’t call. Step-monster has to TALK to me.
I ended the message with the eye-rolling emoji and started to put my phone back into my messenger bag, but the screen lit up with a new message instantly.
Can we talk later? Really talk?
My palms grew sweaty and it wasn’t just because Georgia nearly sideswiped her mother’s expensive convertible when she pulled to a jarring stop in the driveway. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was asking. When a guy said he wanted to ‘talk,’ it normally meant one of two things: he either wanted to break up with you, or he wanted to put his tongue down your throat—and other places.
Georgia and Carolina got out of the car but I sat there for a few seconds before finally letting my fingers move over the phone’s screen.
Yeah.
That was all I wrote before closing the screen and stuffing the phone deep into the messenger bag. I didn’t know what he would send back.
My heart was still doing summersaults in my chest as I finally got out of the car and slowly walked into Scott’s house. Jillian was waiting impatiently for me by the front door, her Jimmy Choo’s tapping and her hands on her tiny hips as she glared at me.
I wiped my feet on the rug just outside the door, because my mother had taught me to always wipe my feet before entering a house, and gave my step-monster a bored look as I stepped inside. “Hi,” I greeted her, trying to move around her so I could go into the kitchen for a snack before going upstairs to do the little bit of history homework I had.
Jillian moved to block my way. “You aren’t leaving this house tonight without Georgia, do you understand me, McKinley? I’m not going to have you under my roof taking up all the fame for yourself. Take Georgia with you, or I promise you, little girl, you won’t be leaving this house again until you’re eighteen.”
My brows lifted at the ‘little girl’ comment. I was a good six inches taller than this bitch. And her tone? My own mother had never spoken to me in such a condescending way, so having it thrown at me right then rubbed me raw in all the wrong ways. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, wanting to tear her pretty extensions out of her brainless head and scratch up that perfect face my father must have spent a small fortune on with the best plastic surgeons.
My mother’s voice filling my head, however, had me relaxing enough to calm my rage. I’d been raised by not only a woman who had taught me right from wrong, but a stepdad who had as well. That I should respect my elders, blah-blah-blah. Right then I wanted to ignore all those things that she and Carter had ingrained in me. Why the fuck should I respect someone who didn’t have an ounce of respect for me?