Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
I’m about to close my eyes when I see something across the street. It’s my brother, and he’s staring daggers at the truck. He must’ve seen Roman parking it.
A pit forms in my stomach. I don’t want to face this, but I’m scared of what might happen if Roman and my brother face-off.
It’s not that Roman can’t take him. It’s actually the opposite. Roman could definitely kick Andy’s ass. As much of a jerk as he is, I don’t want to see anything bad happen to him. He’s still my flesh and blood.
With a deep breath for strength, I leave the truck and cross the road.
“Where have you been?” My brother snarls the moment I step foot in the auto shop. There are no customers around to witness this, thankfully.
“Out of town,” I work to keep my voice even. I’m grateful there’s no tremor in it, no hint of the anxiety this conversation is causing me. That would make Andy happy.
“Out of town,” he scoffs. “You’re busy spreading your legs for that criminal.”
I will not let him see how much this is upsetting me. I will not give him the satisfaction of flinching when he calls my husband a criminal.
“Doesn’t matter. Just get your lazy ass to work. I’m calling it a day.” He wipes his greasy palms on a dirty rag.
I shake my head. I don’t think I’ve ever defied my brother. “I’m taking the day off. I’m spending it with my husband.”
I step across the bay to get my toolbox. It was the toolbox my mom always used when she worked on cars with me, and I don’t want to leave it behind. I don’t trust Andy not to destroy it to get even with me.
“You little bitch.” Andy’s hand is on my shoulder, and he spins me around.
I see him grapple for a nearby tool. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my middle. It’s too soon to know anything. But with everything I’ve done with Roman, I know there’s a possibility we started a little life.
I brace myself for a blow, but it doesn’t come. One moment, I’m cowering and covering my middle section. The next Andy has released me and is yelping in pain.
Roman is there, shoving him against the bay wall. My brother makes a gasping noise, his feet dangling. But he’s no match for Roman’s brutal strength as he pins him there.
“Don’t you ever lay your hands on my woman again,” he grits out the words as Andy’s face changes to a purple hue. He makes gagging noises, and my brain finally processes what’s happening.
Roman is choking him.
“Don’t hurt him,” my voice is small. Andy doesn’t deserve anything from me, but I still don’t want to see him hurt.
Roman turns to me, his gaze softening. He looks me up and down, inspecting my body. I brush my hair from my face with a shaky hand.
“He didn’t hurt me.” Somehow, I know that those will be the only words that may grant him mercy from Roman.
“Get whatever you need, kitten,” his voice is still soft, but there’s an undercurrent of steel.
I quickly gather the toolbox from my mom. “I have what I want.”
“Now, take it to the truck and wait for me.”
I look between him and my brother, torn between the two of them. I want to help Andy. I want him to become a better person.
“He’s going to kill me,” Andy gasps.
Roman doesn’t answer the accusation. “I said take it to the truck.”
I know he’s not going to kill Andy, and I’ve always tried to rescue my brother from every situation. Now, maybe it’s time to let go. He’s an adult, and he has to experience the consequences of his actions.
I force my legs to move, and I carry the toolbox to the truck. I stow it inside before settling in the front seat.
The cab smells of snickerdoodle cookies, still warm on the seat. I’m too upset to eat and glance in the rearview mirror in time to watch the bay doors close. I don’t know what’s happening, but I trust Roman. He’s not going to throw away everything we have because my brother is an asshole.
It’s only five minutes until Roman comes back to join me. When he does, his knuckles are bruised and bleeding. He gives me a soft nod. “Taken care of.”
I swallow as nausea sweeps through me. “Define taken care of.”
Even as I say the words, I’m opening the glovebox and searching for napkins. I find some and press them gently to his knuckles. I blink back tears as I do. “I don’t think anyone has ever defended me.”
“I’ll always be the one to defend you.” He scoops me into his lap, pressing kisses to my forehead, temples, and my cheeks. This man is more than my husband. He’s my warrior and my defender, the one who goes into battle for me.