Every Tear You Cry by J.E. Parker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: J.E. Parker
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
CL ARA
TWO A N D A HA L F Y E ARS L A T ER
WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?
Panicked, I jerked upright on the sofa where I’d fallen asleep the night
before, and looked around the room, searching for the source of the small
sound—a floorboard creaking maybe?—that I’d just heard.
“Is someone in here?”
My pounding heart leapt into my throat when someone tapped me on the
shoulder in response, scaring the daylights out of me. I yelped and yanked the
quilt that covered my legs up to my chest as if that would protect me from
whoever stood behind the sofa, their body hidden from my wide-eyed view.
A laugh shattered the silence of the room.
“Declan Michael O’Bannon,” I fussed, the fear rooted in my chest
easing. “You almost gave me a heart attack, you little delinquent.” I tossed
the blanket to the floor, bounced to my knees on the worn cushion and peered
over the back of the second-hand sofa I’d bought at a yard sale for twenty
bucks.
My youngest son stood from where he’d been squatting and smiled.
“Sorry, Mama,” he replied, laughing. “I was getting the control.” He waved
the cracked-yet-still-functional TV remote around in the air for emphasis. “It
was under the sofa again.”
I smiled, running my fingers through his messy hair. “How long have
you been awake?” I glanced around the room, searching for Liam. He was the
first to wake up every morning. “And where’s your brother?”
Declan pointed to the kitchen. “Fixing toast.” He scrunched his little nose
up. “I wanted cereal, but we’re outta milk.”
A frustrated groan slipped from my lips.
We were out of milk along with just about everything else.
Broker than broke, I’d stuck to the basics during our last grocery trip.
Peanut butter, eggs, bread, soup. Milk had been too expensive, and so had a
new box of cereal. The one that sat in our pantry above the bags of dry beans
had to be a month old.
“Soon as I find a new job and get my first paycheck, we’ll go food
shopping, sweet boy. Promise.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” Declan replied with a shrug. “I like toast.”
It was a fib. He didn’t like toast. Not at all. However, he would say he did
to keep from upsetting me. Even at six years old, he was protective of my
feelings.
Both my boys were.
Liam walked into the room, a plate of untoasted, jelly-covered bread in
his hands. His eyes met mine. “I can’t get the toaster to work, and the
microwave sparked again when I tried to make Dec oatmeal, so I unplugged
it.”
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