The Love Story (The Things We Can't Change Book 4) by Kassandra Kush Read Free Book Online

anticipated from my quick, anger-fueled walk. I also don’t throw the pack away. I slide it into my back pocket as I go up to the door of apartment 3B and knock.
    It takes a minute for him to answer. I hear voices and movement within and finally Uncle Alex is opening the door. He stares at me for a long minute, taking in the duffle bag and the hard set of my jaw.
    He sighs. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
    “Sorry, but no. He kind of kicked me out.” I crank my neck, wondering who he has over. I catch sight of a very beautiful, very leggy blonde woman on his couch wearing a skimpy black dress. “Ah. Oops. Do you want me to come back in an hour or two?”
    Alex scowls. “Hell, no. It’s almost one A.M. Get your ass inside.” He steps aside to let me in. “Go to the spare bedroom. I’ll deal with you in a few minutes, as soon as I get her out of here.”
    “Yes, sir,” I say smartly. I watch for a moment, mesmerized, as the blonde stretches, cat-like, on the couch. Damn.
    A cuff on the shoulder gets me going, along with a glare from Uncle Alex. I cough to disguise a laugh, knowing the woman is aware that both of us are watching her. I give her a finger wave as I pass and she winks at me. Then I’m disappearing down the small hallway, bypassing Alex’s closed bedroom door and the guest bathroom. His apartment is quite big, the kitchen and dining areas actually separated by a half-wall and not connected to his spacious living room. You don’t work at a country club since you’re sixteen and not manage to scrape up some good money twenty years later.
    I push open the door to the spare bedroom and take a moment to gather myself together at the sight of the two beds. This room is as familiar to me as my own; Cindy and I stayed here often when we were little. But always together. Now that I think about it, this is the first time I’ll spend the night here without her. When we were really small, we’d make a tent between the two beds and Alex would pretend not to notice the flashlights that we never remembered to put back in the kitchen pantry.
    As we got older, the tents and sleepovers happened less and less, but we were always welcome with Alex. Hard ass that he was at work, he was always there with a silent hand on the shoulder for me and a hug for Cindy. We’d stayed here a lot right after my mom had left, giving my dad space that Alex said he needed and spending time with Alex simply because he was a more comforting presence than my dad in those days.
    I shake off the memories and toss my duffle bag in the closet, along with my backpack once I’ve retrieved the sketching supplies from it. There’s one rule to follow at Alex’s, and that’s simply Don’t Make a Mess. Keep your shit where it belongs or out of sight and you can stay as long as you want.
    I take out my charcoal pencil and stow the rest of my art supplies in the drawer of the nightstand where they’re easily accessible and then I begin to draw. I pour all of my anger and frustration and disappointment into the sketchpad, drawing aimlessly. Rough sketches of Evie’s face this evening, the shadows of two kids behind a blanket-tent in a bedroom, a beautiful woman boldly showing off her sex appeal.
    I begin to feel better.
    I listen with half an ear to the two muffled voices out in the living room, one low and rough, the other high and feminine but with an edge of a whine to it. I’m surprised when after about half an hour, the front door opens and closes and then Alex appears in the doorway of my room.
    I raise my eyebrows at him. “You didn’t have to toss Lola out. I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you had going on.”
    “Lola?” Alex snorts and rolls his eyes as he leans against the doorjamb. “Where did that come from?”
    I shrug. “She looked like a Lola to me. Borderline hooker and all that. That’s what I’m titling this, at least.” I wave the sketchbook in the air, showing him the sketch of the woman. “Mr. Bryant