Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Kaci’s shoulders shake with silent sobs, but the comforting hand on her back is all I can manage right now. I’ll fucking lose it if she raises her head and gives me any kind of fucking sympathy. I don’t deserve it. I live with my choices every fucking day.
“After the dust settled, Lynch, he’s eight years older than me, came to my room to talk to me. He told me that one day this club would be his, and what happened to my mother wouldn’t happen in the club then. I believed him. Even when he went to prison, and things got so much worse, I held out hope that things would be better, eventually. Now they are.”
“No more violence?”
I chuckle at Kaci’s soft-spoken question.
“We are the most violent fucking people you’ll ever meet.”
She doesn’t stiffen in my arms or pull away like I expect, but not looking into her eyes right now is killing me, so I cup a hand under her chin and urge her to look up.
“I’m sorry about your mom,” she whispers, and her sincerity is almost enough to make me break.
I clear my throat and press my mouth to hers instead. She opens on a sigh, her tongue sweeping over mine with sweetness. I groan, but don’t deepen the kiss. When I pull away, she’s looking at me like she’s never seen me before in her life.
“Kaci?”
“I want you to leave and never come back.”
She pulls out of my grasp and locks herself into her bathroom. I do the only thing I can manage at the moment. I shrug on my jacket and my cut and get the fuck out of there.
Chapter 21
Kaci
I’m torn in two directions.
On one hand, I feel free for the first time since TJ pulled me from that guy’s arms at his clubhouse. He hasn’t been here in two weeks, and the freedom has been much needed.
On the other hand, I miss him more than I would ever admit out loud. I miss the sound of his voice, the feel of his body against mine in bed, and if I let myself think about it long enough, I miss what happened the last time he was here.
It was his story, and the way he looked in my eyes like he was in pain and I was the only one who could ease that for him that has kept me from reaching out to him. I can’t be that person, even when deep down, I know he’s the only person who can ease my own pain. Two broken, fucked-up people together will only mean more agony and heartache for both of us. Damaged people don’t heal others. Trying to put someone back together with your broken pieces only leaves you with less than what you started with. It only causes more problems.
Even though I’m different now. Even though the thought of leaving my apartment at night literally makes my skin crawl, I can’t bring myself to go to him.
I’ve only left once in the three weeks since TJ carried my battered and bruised body home. I walked to Tito’s yesterday in broad daylight, and I looked over my shoulder and shook the entire way to the restaurant.
He did this to me.
Before he came along, I was always the commander of my own destiny, and I hate him for taking that from me. Just like I hate the sureness in my finger as it hovers over his name in my phone.
I press call and cancel just as fast.
“I don’t fucking need him,” I grumble, but I never drop my phone. I never toss it to the side and get up from my bed. I don’t rush into my bathroom and tug on slutty clothes and pile a pound of makeup on my face. I simply hold the device in my hand and wait until I have enough courage to let the call go through.
My bruises are gone now, and it physically makes me sick to look at myself in the mirror. Without the injuries, the only thing I can focus on are the circles under my eyes from night after night of restless sleep, and the girl staring back at me urging me to find happiness.
What I need is a distraction, and if I’m too chicken shit to leave my apartment, there’s only one recourse.
I hit call on the phone, and rather than end it immediately, I hold it to my ear. It only rings twice before the call is connected, but TJ doesn’t say a word, and for that I’m thankful.
I didn’t know what I was going to say to him. I’ve been going back and forth between begging him to come over and ripping him a new one for what he’s already done to me. When the situation arises though, I don’t do either of those things.