Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,41

if I’d have better luck laying a golden egg.

“Yes—exactly the way I have been.”

“You don’t have any clue how to pay the bills. Mom has a small army working the back office—and payroll? You have any idea about that?”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“Really? And how do you know this?” Bryson crosses his arms as if he were amused. “You haven’t set foot in a classroom in the last five years.”

“All right.” I stand up with my arms in the air. Swear to God, if he were closer, I’d deck him. “I get it. I’m too freaking stupid in your eyes because I don’t have a four-year degree to shove down everyone’s throat for the rest of my life. Well, have a great rest of yours because if you’re going to be throwing that crap in my face every chance you get, feel free to stay the hell away from me.” I kick my chair back as I leave.

I wondered if it was coming. Bryson has never been an ass about our educational differences, but now that he’s got that hot little degree in his hands, he’s settling into becoming a self-righteous prick.

I take off into the cool night, hop in my truck and just drive.

Sure wish Izzy was here filling that seat beside me.

But then nothing ever seems to go my way.

It probably shouldn’t.

Great Sexpectations

Izzy

Dear Dad,

It’s safe to say I’ve screwed up my fair share of things in life (excuse the language). Usually it’s things I don’t intend on ruining that sort of unravel because of me—such as Mom and her revolving door boyfriends. But this time I’ve delved into new territory. I’ve managed to screw up something sweet that might have led to interesting places—hell, good places. Anyway, I’ve finally become a master at sabotaging my own life. Just because something pretty terrible happened to me once doesn’t mean I should let it terrorize me for the rest of my days. But then that’s logic and my mind seems to run on anything but. Plus there’s Mom. You may have left her, but I’m the reason she’s truly alone. Sure wish she’d meet someone halfway decent. I’d take a quarter decent at this point.

~See ya.

Screwing up in Hollow Brook (Happy now? Without you my language is in the crapper. I hope you feel a little guilty. You should.)

~Iz

By the time my cats finish their tap dance routine on my back, Mom already has the coffee brewing. I used to enjoy a good cat stomping, but their light-footed paws don’t even come close to Holt’s magic fingers. A wave of grief washes over me. As cruel as I was to him the other day, I think we both know it’s for the best. Holt deserves someone capable of navigating her way through the day without choking on the smoke from a fire that burned out a long time ago. That’s all I ever seem to do these days, gag on the memories that have wrapped themselves around my neck like a noose.

“Well, it’s official”—Mom slams the fridge shut with a package of bacon fisted in her hand—“Don says he’s not coming back. Wouldn’t say why.” She huffs her way over to the stove and starts up the flame so fast it almost singes her brows. “Damn men. Never know a good thing when they see it.” She opens and slams the cabinets until she finds the pan she’s looking for while continuing her rant about damn men. She’s used that phrase so often over the course of my life, I’m almost positive that’s the proper way to address them.

“I’m telling you, Iz”—she huffs it out—“finding an upstanding man who would die for you—who would kill for you…” She loses herself in a daze just staring at that half empty bottle of my father’s whiskey. “It’s like finding a pot of gold. You find one like that—you know you’ve struck it rich. Sometimes I think love is the only fortune that matters.”

Holt runs through my mind with his high-voltage smile, his bedroom eyes that have already had me twelve different ways. Holt said he wanted to help. He wanted to push through this thing, whatever it was, together. Heck, I don’t even know what it is. All I know is that my mind fractured like a mirror one day, and here I am almost ten years later still cutting myself on the shards.

“So I’ve been thinking.” She heads back to the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs. “I haven’t really