Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I want him.
Even if he is a bit of an asshole.
By the time I make it back inside, Hans has finally finished his business and is holding Shelly in his lap in Dante’s office. Dante, my always perfect brother, looks like he’s about to rule over a boardroom, not the two idiots in front of him.
“I hear I missed a police chase,” Dante says, his lips curling up in a villainous way. “What’s the real story?”
“Our sister is a moron.”
“Hey,” she gripes when Hans laughs.
“Did she seriously run away from a ticket?”
“That part is true, yes. She left me to clean up her mess.”
Hans shakes his head. “I remember Atlas. Back in high school, he was a total shithead.”
Suddenly interested, I plop down in the chair beside Hans and Shelly. “Do tell,” I encourage. “I like giving that guy crap.”
Shelly laughs, but Dante’s intense stare burns into me. Of course, I ignore him. It’s basically my super-power. Shelly talks her way out of tickets, and I ignore my older brother. We all have our gifts.
“He played football for about three seconds,” Hans reveals. “Fucker was good too. But—”
“He let his mouth get him in trouble?” I offer.
“Yes!” Hans says, smacking Shelly’s ass as though to make the point. “Always popping off at everyone. Especially his dad. Funniest shit ever.” He sighs heavily. “I couldn’t have gotten away with that with my dad. Larson was fearless.”
Still is.
Hearing his teenage self was a brat, too, is heartwarming for some lame reason.
Obsessed, Callan. Totally freaking obsessed.
“And your boy toy gave him a badge and a gun,” I say to Dante. “Good one.”
“Jax says Atlas is all right,” Dante lies.
I bite back a laugh. “You can’t even say that with a straight face. How did we get the world’s most un-cop cop? Ohhh, that’s right. This is Brigs Ferry Bay. Everything’s backward and fucked up around here.”
My joke falls flat, and everyone falls silent.
But it was a joke.
“I know you hate it here,” Dante starts, “but—”
I cut him off with a swipe of my hand in the air. “I’m going home.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” Shelly says, hopping off Hans’s lap. “It’s too cold to walk.”
“As long as I don’t have to ride home with him, I don’t care,” I snap, knowing I sound like a total dick but unable to find one fuck to give about it.
Dante scowls at me in that disappointed father way he’s somehow mastered recently. I’m sick of it. He’s not Dad. He’s. Not. My. Dad. I’m a fucking adult.
Who can’t drive…
Can’t? Won’t? Shouldn’t?
My pissy attitude only worsens as I storm to Shelly’s car. Before I make it to the vehicle, she hits the fob, and the engine starts. I climb inside, slamming the door harder than necessary. A couple of minutes later, she shows up, bundled up in a coat and scarf.
“It was a joke,” I grind out before she can utter a word. “All three of you just stared at me like I’m this depressed little sob story. Poor Callan. We have to make him better.”
“Callan—”
“Forget it.”
She sighs heavily, but I’m beyond caring. I need to escape. If I did have my license and a car, I’d get on the road and drive far, far away from here. Go somewhere gay-friendly where no one knows my name or my family. I can just…be.
When she finally pulls up to the house, I climb out, utter a quick goodbye, and storm inside.
I can’t sleep.
My mind races with an unhealthy combination of anger and creativity. I want to paint and exorcise these mental demons. I’d love to release the rage and bitterness stored up inside me. Leave my mark.
I glance at the clock.
A quarter past three in the morning.
Zak is home from his shift, and Jax and Dante are in bed. The house—and this damn town for that matter—is quiet. It’s when I feel like I belong. When I’m all alone with my thoughts and my desire to create.
Time for a walk.
I climb out of bed and drag a pair of black jeans over my naked ass. Since I’m feeling rather black with my mood, I throw on black socks, a black thermal, and black Docs. My coat was ruined with that dweeb’s spit, so I have to settle for a black hoodie even though it’s cold as balls outside. Once I have my black gloves on, and my hood pulled over my head, I ease my backpack on over my shoulders. The contents clang softly, and I cringe, hoping I didn’t just wake the whole damn house.
Seconds turn into minutes.
They’re still asleep.
Quietly, I creep out of my bedroom and down the hall to the living room. A quick peek out the back window, and I can tell Zak is out in his apartment since the lights are off. Brigs Ferry Bay is asleep. Just the way I like it.