Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Well, when you put it like that, yes.” I jerked my head up and down. “Clarissa’s friend is gorgeous. She’s got all the guys eating out of her hand.”
I looked at him, wondering with a sinking heart if he’d be one of those guys. Because I couldn’t take it, not at all, not even a little bit.
“Hey.” He gentled his tone. “I thought you knew by now that I’m not that type of guy. Good God, I’m not Kevin. I don’t drink, party, and get laid. I used to. For an entire fucking year, and almost all four years of high school, that’s all I did. Then I got a phone call that my brother was in the hospital and his future was gone.”
He squeezed my hand. “No one gets it. He looks the same. He sounds the same, but he’s not. He’s dead inside. That’s what brain injuries do to you. They strip a person of what makes them them, and leave them feeling pain in ways no one can understand. Colton will never get the future he wanted. He was on student council, track captain, football captain, basketball, he was on the newspaper—that kid wanted to run for president one day. He had everything planned.”
He sighed and looked down. “Then there’s me and Marcus. I partied, did sports, got laid. That’s all. I didn’t want to be in some fraternity. I didn’t want any of this. And Marcus? He’s almost worse. He’s been racing cars since sophomore year. Still does. He and his friends, that’s where they go on the weekends.” He was losing steam. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You don’t know the half of it, Summer. Not even half, so no. If you think I’m the guy who’s making stupid decisions for the rest of my life, think again. I gotta live life for him now.”
“Caden.” My chest had ripped in half. His hand plunged inside, and he’d taken hold of my heart. He had it in his hand.
I touched his arm, no longer thinking. I half sat up as he turned to me. Maybe it was second-nature now. Maybe he’d read my mind, or maybe this was just what we were supposed to do, but he caught me as I moved toward him and guided me on to his lap, straddling him.
I just wanted to take his hurt away.
I knelt over him, not quite sitting down. Trailing a hand over his chest, I pushed him down on the bed. As I looked down at him, his hands went to my legs. His thumbs began to rub back and forth. My body was warming up.
His eyes darkened, but he didn’t do anything. He watched me with those hooded and pain-lidded eyes. I touched the side of his face tenderly, and I held him in the palm of my hand.
He closed his eyes and leaned into my hand. That gave me breath, and then I leaned down and found him.
It was later when I remembered he hadn’t given me a label for us, but Caden had fallen asleep holding me to his chest. The music started downstairs, but I closed my eyes.
Everything could wait.
“JELLO SHOTS ARE FUN AND EASY! DO YOU WANT TO FEEL SO BREEZY? PUT ONE DOWN AND HAVE SOME FUN!”
The yelling seemed to come from right outside our door, and I jerked upright, woken from deep sleep.
“Fuck.” My heart pounded.
Caden sat up next to me, skimming a hand down my back. “You okay?”
“JELLO SHOTS ARE FUN AND DREAMY! LOOKING OUT FOR SOMEONE EASY? SHARE A SHOT AND BECOME A FELON!”
My eyes rounded at the second chant. “Are they fucking kidding?!”
Caden was off the bed in a flash. He padded across the room in sweats that hung deliciously low on his hips. I was horrified at the chant, but still able to appreciate the vision. His back was contoured perfectly. All muscles. All ridges. One glorious masterpiece.
I’d almost forgotten the chant when Caden ripped open the door, blocking me from them, and yelled, “SHUT THE FUCK UP! This is not that kind of fraternity!”
“Who made you boss—”
Caden was out the door in a second, and I scrambled, knowing my barrier was gone. I rolled to my feet, the sheet wrapped around me, and glimpsed Caden shoving a guy against the wall, his hand on his throat.
I grabbed my shirt and pants, slipping into the bathroom. Before the door closed behind me, I glanced over my shoulder.
Marcus was standing there, his back to me. He’d taken his brother’s position, and I almost sagged in relief. Dressing quickly, I stepped back out into the room just as someone explained, “Getting your ass beat like that is what makes him boss.”
“We don’t do things like that here,” a guy grumbled. “This is our turf. We don’t beat people up.”