Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Is that?” I ask stunned.
Busted nods and I simply stare.
Emmalee Van Etten. The woman who left his ass to go traveling is literally working right there in front of us.
Stocking the laundry supplies and wiping down machines. Emmalee Van Etten is working a t a laundromat and not traveling the world like he thought. More than that, why is she in the same room with my fucking son?
What in the actual fuck is going on?
ELEVEN
MARITZA
The prospect drops us off at our condo complex. Toon was drinking, otherwise, I’m sure he would have been Dia’s preferred transportation. Those two have a tangled web between them. One I can understand. The attraction is undeniable, but the reality is the struggle to making it work. The patch stands between them. The same patch we honor on our father’s. It stands in my way too. I want Dillon, but I can’t act on it. No matter how much I want the man behind the cut, it can never be. That would be too much for my father. He sees Dillon as Karma, his Hellion brother. He can’t then become a son-in-law. The same is for Toon and Dia. Maybe it’s best to break the ties and not have him take us home in the long run.
It used to bother me having a prospect bring us home after a night out at a club or a clubhouse party. I felt like I was an inconvenience. It’s this odd thing, the way they are initiated. Hazing isn’t a good thing, but these men all say it’s necessary. I don’t get it, but I’m not a Hellion. It goes back to the empath thing, and I feel their trepidation about screwing up when we call. They get beyond nervous, to this anxious level, and I feel sorry for them. My dad swears it’s because this time matters so much, they take every task serious. Apparently, it only takes one mistake and their hopes of becoming a brother are poof gone. Being responsible for the safety of a brother’s ol’ lady or daughter, that is one of the top tier responsibilities. They fuck up on watch with one of us, they will never get their rockers. I don’t actually understand the entire prospect thing, but I have watched many Hellion endure the trial. The things men do to earn respect … some of it makes no sense to me. Respect isn’t earned by tasks like taking females home.
Dia took Skye out for her night walk and potty break before we even went to the clubhouse. We decided we would crash at her place tonight since Mariella stayed home to study. I don’t want to disturb my sister and her college work. Skye is already kenneled on the off-chance Dia was going to need a ride home. The plan is in place and truly we’ve had a fun night.
Dia’s got some new face masks that are supposed to be a dream for a late night out. Time to test the promise on the package. No bags or dark under eye, let’s see! We have been drinking, but none of us are to the point we will be hugging a toilet tonight. I’m in the kitchen with Dia on the stool at the built in bar on the opposite side of the kitchen sink when my phone pings. It’s late and this is unusual. Anyone who would message me this late literally just saw me at the clubhouse moments ago.
It's Hollis.
A text.
The text.
Our code. I’m stuck in place as time stands still.
The emoji of the kiwi fruit is this torturous tease.
A few years ago, when Hollis got his phone, I came up with this system. There was all this turmoil with his parents’ sorting things in the divorce. He was going to his first sleepover. He didn’t want to bother his mom if he got nervous and wanted to come home because she isn’t reliable. He didn’t want his dad to not let him go to another sleepover, but wanted the reassurance someone was available. That’s how it began.
“If you need me to be your way out, send me the kiwi emoji. If we are on the phone, you just ask for kiwis for breakfast next time we’re together. Then I will know you need me. I won’t share with your mom or dad unless it’s a dangerous situation to you or someone around you. But I will be your escape.”
He nods, “kiwis are gross.”
I laugh, “that’s how I’ll know it’s serious and there is no way we can mix up the signal.”
“Like a bat signal, but kiwi. Got it. And you won’t tell my friends, right?”
I extend my pinky, “no one will know but me and you. I’ll say we have a family emergency or plans. I’ll come up with something so it’s on me that you have to leave.”