Page 38 of A Little Jaded

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Page 38 of A Little Jaded

“I have two half-sisters from my dad’s previous marriage. Hazel and Miley,” Everett explains. “They’re both almost twenty years older than me and Fin, so when Fin was born, they basically treated her like their own personal dress-up doll.”

“Not you?”

A faint smile graces his lips. “There’s a photo or two of my sister dressed up when she was a baby that I’m convinced is really me, but no one will fess up to it.”

My nose crinkles as I hide my laugh behind my hand. “You’re joking.”

“Definitely not joking.”

I shouldn’t find this as hilarious as I do. Especially after the week I’ve had. But the image of the sexy, alpha hockey player next to me in girl’s clothes is pretty much the funniestthing I’ve ever heard. It takes everything inside of me to keep from asking for a copy of the evidence.

As if he can sense my amusement, he gives me the side-eye. “Glad someone finds my childhood torture entertaining.”

I drop my hand to my lap and give in, showcasing my giant grin as I imagine a baby Everett in pink ruffles and bows. “At least you don’t remember the trauma, right? It’s gotta count for something.”

“Not sure repressing memories is any healthier, Raine,” he jokes.

“Good point.” He’s right. It isn’t. I had a good childhood. A great childhood, actually. But even then, I know what it’s like to want to forget certain events. I drag my tongue against my swollen lip and turn back to the passenger window.

“Not too much farther,” he adds.

“You know, you’re lucky I trust you,” I point out.

“You trust me?”

“I have to, don’t I?” I glance at him again. “I’m pretty sure you could kill me up here, and no one would know.”

“Quite a morbid thought,” he muses.

“Doesn’t make it less true. It is pretty, though.”

I lean a little closer to the windshield, taking in the gorgeous forest surrounding us as he drives around the bend. And leaves my jaw practically hanging off its hinges.

It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful and so picturesque I can almost believe I’ve died and gone to heaven.

“This is your childhood home?” I ask, refusing to look at Ev, let alone blink in case I miss a single detail of the landscape. The leaves have all fallen from the trees, but the ground is wet, and the massive log cabin tucked between two hills and a valley for a backyard looks like it was placed here by Godhimself. I bet it’s beautiful in winter. Covered in a blanket of snow. And summer? I can only imagine how lush and green the foliage must get in contrast to the blue sky. I roll down the window and breathe deeply. The air is fresh. Clean. Earthy.

It’s perfect.

Everett pushes a button on his car, and the garage door rumbles to life in front of us. “This is it.”

I roll the window up as he pulls inside, cuts the ignition off, and leads me into the house.

To say it’s gorgeous would be an enormous understatement. It’s as beautiful inside as it is outside. The kitchen is masculine yet homey, with dark green cabinets, maple-colored floors, and white walls. There’s a huge stone fireplace in the family room on the opposite side of the open floor plan, too, along with a large leather sectional I can’t wait to melt into. Pictures line the walls, and if there was a definition of a picture-perfect family, this would be it. A mom. A dad. An older brother. A little girl. Smiling faces and a warmth you can feel through the photograph. My fingers itch to reach out and touch it, but I keep my hands tucked into the crooks of my elbows as I study a young Everett in his hockey gear. He must’ve just won something because his grin is contagious, and I catch my lips lifting.

“That’s us,” Everett explains beside me.

I tear my attention from the photograph and turn to him, searching his face for similarities to the boy in the picture. “You have your dad’s eyes,” I conclude.

“My mom says the same thing.” He tilts his head toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”

Flicking the hall light on, he points toward the first door on the left, pushing it open. “This one’s yours. Mine is on the right, and the bathroom is right…” He steps a little further down the hall, stopping at the next door on my side of the hall. “Here. Any questions?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I don’t think so.”

“Good. Do you want to settle in while I make some food?”

“You cook?”




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