Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
With that, Huck was gone, milk in hand.
"I haven't done anything, but I'm somehow exhausted," Sass admitted, rolling her neck.
"You've been stressed. It drains you. And now that you are safe, you can get as much rest as you need."
"Did I ever thank you for helping me out?" she asked, voice softer than usual.
"You don't need to thank me."
"Still," she said, reaching out, grabbing my hand, giving it a quick squeeze before dropping it. "Thank you, Che," she said, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.
And right up to my bed.
That I was going to climb into with her.
And, apparently, we'd be sharing the bed with my conflicted feelings as well.
It was going to be a long fucking night.
Chapter Eight
Saskia
Four days passed in relative peace.
I mean, mornings started early with Remy's blue and gold macaw declaring in a very loud voice, "Fuck you, Benny."
No one had any idea who Benny was, or what Benny had done to get told off so often that a parrot picked up on saying it, but we all suffered the consequences of the pain in the ass Benny, and the bird that really, really loved sunrise.
Still, even being a sleep-in-late kind of person, I found I didn't mind.
I'd been so alone for so long that I couldn't have known how pleasant it was to wake up, go downstairs, and be greeted by others, to talk to the bird and pet the dogs and cats, and let the tortoise back outside.
I got to share a cup of coffee with one of the guys—usually McCoy or Remy who seemed to wake up earliest. Remy, because his animals demanded it. McCoy, because he was a light sleeper.
Eventually, the others would come down. Usually, Seeley ran out to grab bagels or donuts.
No one cooked.
At least not in the morning.
At night, one of the guys usually tossed some kind of meat on the grill. Then, purely out of what seemed like maternal obligation, Harmon would make some vegetables on the side.
Then we did the previously unthinkable.
We ate together.
Like a family might.
Even when I lived with my family, there had never been family meals. We would usually eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in our own rooms or the living room, and never with our mother.
So having a family dinner with these people who weren't related, but had chosen one another, was something interesting and special, and I felt pretty lucky to be able to partake in it. Even for just a short while.
The guys told crazy stories about lifting cars to chop, often tipped off by Teddy who was, apparently, insanely rich.
Most nights, Teddy showed up late, hanging out with the guys, drinking, and, inevitably, some women would show up to hang out too.
Then I would find myself sitting up on the couch cradling a beer in my hands and trying not to be pissed off at the way the women eye-fucked Che. As if I had any right to him myself. I mean, I did, on paper. But that didn't count.
And aside from that whole necklace ring thing, nothing else had happened that had hinted at something being between us.
Still, it bothered me. When they playfully shoved him, and let out little high-pitched giggles, I wanted to break every one of their fingers. As someone who'd never known jealousy with my interactions with the opposite sex, who'd never looked at fellow women and saw them as competition for the attentions of men, it was upsetting at best.
It had come to a head the night before when one of the girls who had just been putting the moves on Che walked up to me, and asked me who I was.
When I told her I was Che's wife, she looked like her life flashed before her eyes. Because, I imagined, biker old ladies could get a little testy when other women put their hands on what was theirs.
Even if Che wasn't mine.
I'd taken myself up to bed after that, not wanting to be a part of any more of their mating rituals.
"Where is everyone?" I asked, coming down around dinner time the next day to find just Che in the kitchen.
"Huck took Harmon out to dinner after her appointment. McCoy and Seeley are working on our case. And Remy went over to Teddy's."
"So you guys do have quiet nights," I said, going to the coffee machine. It never seemed to go empty, go cold. Someone was always putting a fresh pot on, day and night. "It seemed like it was all parties and women," I added, wincing at the bitterness in my voice.
"Yeah, you didn't seem to be enjoying the parties," he said, tone carefully guarded, and I didn't know why. When I turned, I found no hints on his face, either.
"Parties are fine," I said, shrugging, trying to play it off, not wanting for him to get to the root of it all, to try to make sense of it—something I was struggling to do myself.