Read Online Full Share (Shore House Book 1) by Eliza Freed - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eliza Freed
Tags: Full Share
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world. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m at my shore house.”
“But your father and I miss you. He hasn’t been feeling well, you know. He could use a visit to cheer him up.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Colitis. We think. He hates to go to the doctor, so I’m left with WebMD and the years I spent at grad school to diagnose him.”
“Maybe he’s just exhausted.”
My mother’s chatter stopped. She knew what I meant, that maybe he was sick of her shit. Even if I couldn’t stand her, she knew me better than anyone.
“I’ll call him.”
“When?” She’d lost her theatrical tone.
“Maybe tomorrow on my way home.”
“You can’t call while you’re driving. Seriously, Nora. Has working auto claims taught you nothing?”
“Okay.” Hearing from her was worse than missing her. My mother should stay in a constant state of absence. It was our only hope. “I’ve got to go.”
“Pick a weekend to come down. You can bring someone with you. Maybe a boyfriend.”
“Good bye, Mom.” I hung up the phone and stared at the stains on the ceiling above me.
Two deep breaths . . .
She couldn’t bother me from another state. She didn’t have that much control over my emotions. I controlled them.
I wandered through the quiet house. The living room seemed twice as big without the dozen bodies that usually inhabited it. Shoes littered every corner of the room, and beach towels hung from the back of every chair. A bookcase with only two shelves sat below the living room window, filled with old books. It was like the free books bin at the library. I ran my finger over the spines, absorbing the titles and the colors of each until The Commander’s Capture stole my attention. Its author was Nora Hargrove.
“Unbelievable.”
I carried my selection back to my porch. By the third page I was asleep with the book lying next to me on the most wonderful bed a girl had ever slept in.
The beginning was great.
WHEN IT RAINS, THINGS SLOW DOWN
“Y ou need to get your shit together,” Stone said, and thank God he wasn’t talking to me, because just the tone of his voice scared me a little.
“Whatever, Stone.” Heather slurred through his name. I could see her propping herself against the kitchen counter. Stone grunted and huffed away. Or maybe that was how he walked. He settled into the last open seat on the couch.
It was raining out, trapping us all together in our over-occupied cottage and robbing some of their civility. Stone and Heather weren’t made for small spaces. She tripped on her way through the living room.
“Keep drinking,” Stone said without moving an inch to help her.
I leaned down and extended a hand to her, which Heather sneered at and walked away.
“Man, she’s drunk early,” Mila said. Her voice was full of worry.
“Is that drunk?” It was a valid question. Could she have consumed enough alcohol by six thirty to make her incapable of speech or walking? I’d only seen her with one beer in her hand. She was on something; I just wasn’t sure what.
A few minutes with Heather made me crave solitude. I followed the sound of the rain hitting the porch windows to my bedroom where Tank was lying in my bed. He was so comfortable it appeared it was actually his and I just stored my things near it.
I climbed on next to him and laid down too, feet-to-head, head-to-feet. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m bored. I was going to smoke and wanted to see if you did, too.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“I was in no rush. Time doesn’t seem to move when it’s raining. The world flies by in the bright sunshine, but when it rains, things slow down.” Tank rolled on his side and lit the bowl in his hand.
I reached over him and cranked the windows open a half inch. Without a word, he handed me the bowl. I loved this version of him. He was peaceful. The gentle kindness flowed from him and covered me on top of my quilt.
We passed the bowl back and forth until Tank rested it on
“But your father and I miss you. He hasn’t been feeling well, you know. He could use a visit to cheer him up.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Colitis. We think. He hates to go to the doctor, so I’m left with WebMD and the years I spent at grad school to diagnose him.”
“Maybe he’s just exhausted.”
My mother’s chatter stopped. She knew what I meant, that maybe he was sick of her shit. Even if I couldn’t stand her, she knew me better than anyone.
“I’ll call him.”
“When?” She’d lost her theatrical tone.
“Maybe tomorrow on my way home.”
“You can’t call while you’re driving. Seriously, Nora. Has working auto claims taught you nothing?”
“Okay.” Hearing from her was worse than missing her. My mother should stay in a constant state of absence. It was our only hope. “I’ve got to go.”
“Pick a weekend to come down. You can bring someone with you. Maybe a boyfriend.”
“Good bye, Mom.” I hung up the phone and stared at the stains on the ceiling above me.
Two deep breaths . . .
She couldn’t bother me from another state. She didn’t have that much control over my emotions. I controlled them.
I wandered through the quiet house. The living room seemed twice as big without the dozen bodies that usually inhabited it. Shoes littered every corner of the room, and beach towels hung from the back of every chair. A bookcase with only two shelves sat below the living room window, filled with old books. It was like the free books bin at the library. I ran my finger over the spines, absorbing the titles and the colors of each until The Commander’s Capture stole my attention. Its author was Nora Hargrove.
“Unbelievable.”
I carried my selection back to my porch. By the third page I was asleep with the book lying next to me on the most wonderful bed a girl had ever slept in.
The beginning was great.
WHEN IT RAINS, THINGS SLOW DOWN
“Y ou need to get your shit together,” Stone said, and thank God he wasn’t talking to me, because just the tone of his voice scared me a little.
“Whatever, Stone.” Heather slurred through his name. I could see her propping herself against the kitchen counter. Stone grunted and huffed away. Or maybe that was how he walked. He settled into the last open seat on the couch.
It was raining out, trapping us all together in our over-occupied cottage and robbing some of their civility. Stone and Heather weren’t made for small spaces. She tripped on her way through the living room.
“Keep drinking,” Stone said without moving an inch to help her.
I leaned down and extended a hand to her, which Heather sneered at and walked away.
“Man, she’s drunk early,” Mila said. Her voice was full of worry.
“Is that drunk?” It was a valid question. Could she have consumed enough alcohol by six thirty to make her incapable of speech or walking? I’d only seen her with one beer in her hand. She was on something; I just wasn’t sure what.
A few minutes with Heather made me crave solitude. I followed the sound of the rain hitting the porch windows to my bedroom where Tank was lying in my bed. He was so comfortable it appeared it was actually his and I just stored my things near it.
I climbed on next to him and laid down too, feet-to-head, head-to-feet. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m bored. I was going to smoke and wanted to see if you did, too.”
“Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“I was in no rush. Time doesn’t seem to move when it’s raining. The world flies by in the bright sunshine, but when it rains, things slow down.” Tank rolled on his side and lit the bowl in his hand.
I reached over him and cranked the windows open a half inch. Without a word, he handed me the bowl. I loved this version of him. He was peaceful. The gentle kindness flowed from him and covered me on top of my quilt.
We passed the bowl back and forth until Tank rested it on
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