Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“My minions,” I called, throwing my hands into the air as I reached the kitchen. “How was your daily dose of education, and what have you brought for me?”
My twelve-year-old sister Saoirse snorted, barely glancing up from whatever teenage vampire romance she was reading. Ronan laughed and tossed a shiny red apple my way. I caught it, barely, and raised my eyebrows at him in surprise.
“It’s too crunchy,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Mrs. Carron said we had to finish our food at lunch, so I stuck it in my pocket. You like the crunchy ones.”
“Thanks Ro,” I said, reaching out to scrub my hand over his short hair.
“You like mushy apples, Ronan?” Richie asked, sliding to a halt beside me. “Nasty.”
“Ripe,” Ronan argued. “I like my fruit to be ripe.”
“You’re ten, Ro,” Cian said, panting as he shoved Richie out of his way and stole my apple. “The picky eating shit is getting old.”
“Shut up, Cian!”
“Am I wrong?” Cian asked the room.
“Where’s Mom?” Aisling interrupted. She must’ve really been crying because her cheeks were still flushed, and the little wispy brown hairs that had fallen out of her braid were stuck to her cheeks.
“Haven’t seen her today,” I replied.
“What’s it been, two days?” Cian asked, taking a loud bite of my apple.
“Three,” Saoirse muttered, not looking up from her book.
“Eh, she’ll be back tonight, I bet,” he said, smiling at Aisling.
“Unless she’s dead,” Ronan muttered.
“Ro,” I snapped, smacking the back of his head.
“You think Mom’s dead?” Aisling asked worriedly, her eyes filling with tears again.
“Happy?” Cian asked Ronan, who grimaced.
“She’s not dead,” I assured my baby sister. At eight years old, she was getting too big for me to hold, but I picked her up anyway. “You know Mom, she’ll be back when she’s good and ready.”
“Candy said I look like a jack-o’-lantern,” Aisling said with a sigh, dropping her chin onto my shoulder.
“With that name, Candy’s just pissed her parents only gave her one career option,” Saoirse grumbled.
“Huh?” Aisling said in confusion while I glared at Saoirse.
“Stripper, Ash,” Cian said helpfully. “Candy is a stripper name.”
“It is?” Aisling grinned.
“How do you even know what a stripper is?” I asked in exasperation, putting her back on her feet. “Jesus. You guys are a bunch of delinquents.”
“But they’re your delinquents,” Richie said cheerfully, throwing his arm around my shoulder.
“Lucky me,” I sighed.
He kissed my temple.
“What are we having for dinner?” Ronan asked, his head in the fridge. “Can I have this cheese?”
“Don’t touch it,” I warned, hurrying over to the fridge. “We’ve got just enough for the tater tot casserole tonight and tacos on Thursday.”
Ronan groaned. “Tater tot casserole is gross.”
“Boo hoo,” I shot back, closing the fridge and standing in front of it. “It feeds us for two days, and it’s got all the food groups.”
“It tastes like shit.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Stop poutin’,” Cian ordered.
“I won’t put the tots on your portion,” I assured Ronan.
“Tots are the best part,” Saoirse said, shaking her head.
“They’re mushy,” Ronan argued.
“They are not!” Aisling practically yelled.
“Thought you like shit mushy,” Cian needled.
I stood there in the center of the chaos and took a deep breath. It was the last week of school before summer break. Mom hadn’t been home in days. The house was hot because the air conditioner broke the year after Dad died. Aisling looked like a fucking jack-o’-lantern. Ronan hated summer break because I wouldn’t let him leave the neighborhood, and none of his friends lived close. Saoirse was losing access to the school library, and Cian was just always a pain in the ass. They were hot, stressed, and worn out.
“Yo,” Richie yelled, raising his hands in a stop motion.
“Thank you,” I breathed, looking up at him.
He winked.
“Listen up,” I said, glaring at Cian as he opened his mouth. “You’ve got free breakfasts and lunches for four more days, yeah? So, eat while you’re at school. No raiding the fridge when you get home. We’ve got exactly enough to get us through five more dinners. Tater tot casserole, tacos, macaroni and cheese, and spaghetti.”
“That’s only four,” Ronan pointed out.
“Leftovers on Saturday,” I snapped.
“Fine. Geez.”
“I’ll grocery shop this weekend after work, alright?”
“Maybe Mom will bring home some groceries,” Aisling said hopefully.
I swallowed tightly as I looked at her. Somehow, she still didn’t seem to get that we were on our own. We’d been that way since Dad died when she was four years old.
“Yeah, maybe,” Cian said kindly, glancing at me. “You never know.”
Ronan rolled his eyes, but thankfully kept his mouth shut.
“Leftovers on Sunday,” Richie corrected, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Saturday night I’ll bring pizza after work.”
“Yeah! Pizza!” Ronan cheered.
“Nice,” Saoirse said, nodding.
“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured quietly.
“You know we always have extras that people don’t pick up,” he whispered in my ear. “No worries.”