Becoming His Read Online Free

tried all that before going to get you kids.” Jack scratches his thinning gray hair as he looks over the back of his house. “I can just wait on the porch, eventually Ethel will wake up.”
    “Don’t worry, Mr. Janes. It’s no problem.” I assure him and turn my attention to Max. “I’m going to need your help though. I don’t think I’ll be able to pull off that Spiderman move.”
    Max smirks and my breath catches seeing his eyes grow bright with humor. I consciously force myself to exhale, and then inhale again as I divert my attention back to the window that as I stand closer, appears higher.
    “Alright, prepare to feel like Spiderman,” Max says, creating a stirrup with his hands. Using my right foot I pull myself up and shimmy my way through the narrow window, anchoring myself by gripping the side of the house and the window.
    I’m directly over the bathtub, which is exactly what I’d been hoping wouldn’t be the case, because getting down will prove to be more of a challenge. I glance around the bird-themed room, trying to ascertain exactly how to ease my way in without face-planting in the bathtub and notice a small alcove where the soap and shampoo are nested. The cool tile tickles my fingertips as I reach toward the inlet. My muscles tense with the sudden panic that ensues as my grip on the windowsill slips. My stomach scrapes painfully against the windowsill as my hand rakes across the small space I’d been trying to reach in an attempt to brace myself, sending everything to the floor of the tub with an alarming crash. My scream echoes back at me as I feel Max’s hands grip my ankles stopping my descent.
    I sigh in relief as the soap bottles continue to roll, clanging around the empty tub with the same loud volume that my heart beats.
    A breeze rolls across my bare legs, and my skin, more sensitive to the cool air with the blood pulsating through my limbs from the adrenaline makes me abruptly aware of my short shorts, and uncomfortable positioning that has my butt and hips propped in the air.
    “Are you okay? I’m pulling you out, this was a bad idea!” Max calls.
    “I’m okay. Just a bruised ego.” My voice sounds strained and too loud from the pressure of the windowsill and the tile wall cutting into my stomach. “I just need to resituate.”
    I carefully work to readjust myself, making sure to grip the house and windowsill so tightly my fingers ache as I slowly move and readjust until I have both feet dangling in the window. I reason that the easiest way in will be to jump the few feet inside and hope that I don’t slip.
    My nerves from the near face-plant have me stalling a few breaths. The bathroom door flies open as I watch the shampoo bottle finally roll to a stop and see a flurry of purple and teal that causes my heart rate to speed up again. Thankfully my fingers are locked around the windowsill and frame from the first mishap, otherwise I would likely be on my backside in the tub right now. My focus clears to see all five foot nothing of Ethel Janes staring down at me from the end of a shotgun barrel aimed directly at my chest.
    “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’d better get out of my house before I shoot you!”
    My eyes sweep over hair that’s tightly pulled up in curlers and her purple and teal housecoat, zeroing in on knotted and arthritis-bent fingers looking unsteady as they shakily rest on the trigger.
    “Ace!” Max yells, grabbing at my backside from the ground.
    “Ethel, put that goddamned gun down before you shoot yourself!” Jack yells.
    I’m immobile from fear as I watch the wheels turn in her head.
    “Ethel, it’s just Ace. She’s tryin’ to help. I locked myself out again!” Jack continues.
    Ethel’s eyebrows knit in confusion, like she isn’t positive that it’s really her husband yelling at her. I fight to create a coherent explanation over the fear screaming in my head.
    “H-hi … hi, Mrs. Janes. I haven’t seen you in a