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You’re Mine by Penny Brooks novel Chapter 142


I don't feel...right.

After my epic, over the top hissy fit about my grades at school, Easton took me straight home, quiet the entire drive while I sobbed as if someone had gutted our family dog and left him on the front porch for us to find.

He tried to reassure me, but his softly spoken words only made me wail harder.

Once I got home and composed myself, I emailed my history teacher and luckily enough, he responded quickly.

I reminded him about my extra credit work, he apologized for forgetting to include it and my grade moved to a solid B+.

Not the A I wished for, but good enough.

I FaceTime Easton a few hours later, after I've taken a nap and feel like a rested, semi—well—adjusted human.

“You better?” he greets me once his handsome face fills the screen.

Nodding, I smile at him.

“I took a nap.” “So did I.” “I emailed my teacher and he added the extra credit assignments.

Now I have a B+.” He grins, running a hand through his hair.

Did I mention he’s shirtless? And his biceps are bulging? Heart eyes all day for Easton, I swear.

“That's great, babe.

I bet you're happy.” “So happy.” “And less stressed.” Not all the way.

For some reason, something is still hanging over me.

Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Sure,” I tell him, not wanting to delve into something I can't really explain.

“What are you doing tonight?” “I thought I’d take my favorite girl out,” he says casually.

“We could grab some food.

Check out the Christmas lights around town.” Butterflies flutter in my stomach at him calling me his favorite girl.

I will never grow tired of that.

“That sounds fun.” “You want me to come pick you up in about an hour?” He hides a yawn with his hand.

“Will your parents let you out of the house?” “Yes,” I say firmly.

“Because they're not here.

They're visiting my great aunt Jenny at her house.

She’s ninety, still lives on her own and is mostly toothless, but she’s also living her best life.

My mom is bringing her a giant tin of cookies as an early Christmas present.

Despite being toothless, she loves sweets.” “That's probably why she’s toothless,” he says.

I burst out laughing.

“Probably.” “I'm surprised they didn’t drag you and Ryan along with them,” Easton muses.

“Aunt Jenny hates children.

I can come around when I’m twenty.

She told us that a few years ago.” I laugh again.

So does Easton.

“Do you like children?” Easton asks me once our laughter has died.

My heart trips over itself.

“What do you mean?” “I don't know.

Guess I can see you being a good mom someday,” he says with a shrug.

I swallow hard, wondering how the conversation deviated to this...

“But that’s a long time from now,” Easton continues.

“You having kids.

Maybe even—us having kids.

After that conversation with your dad, I'm not allowed to think like that, you know? No buns in the oven.

No babies.

Thank God you're on the pill.” “Right,” I say, my voice thin.

“Thank God I’m on the pill.” “I'll come get you in about an hour, okay? Dress warm.

We'll have the windows down and I'll blast Christmas music for the entire drive.

That's what my parents used to do when I was a kid,” he says.


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