Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
My feet were already in my flip flops, and I had my phone on me, just in case.
I made my way through the basement and to the stairs, pausing just enough to hear Lisa say, “I’m telling you, she’s not here.”
“She’s here.”
That was Stone. He had come, and yeah, he was pissed.
That made two of us.
I went upstairs, rounding the corner in the kitchen until I could see Stone in the doorway.
Lisa was standing in front of him. A guy with her.
That was it. Just those two. I didn’t recognize the guy, and both had their backs to me. Not Stone. He saw me right away, and his jaw clenched.
“Is this the concussion? Has it affected your head that much?” He lowered his head, those eyes pinning me in place. A pause, then a bite, “Nice shirt.”
Yeah. I should’ve changed.
I ignored how Lisa and her friend turned to me, surprised.
A second bite from him. “Is this where we finally part ways because I’m getting real fucking tired of this shit, Dust.”
Dust.
I flinched, then no. Fuck no. I swallowed some acid and made damn sure my voice came out strong. “I found the cookbooks, Ace.”
He flinched at that name. His dad used to call him that, and I knew he hated that nickname.
“What cookboo—” he started to ground out.
I took a step forward, but only one. I stopped, folding my arms over my chest. “You know. The fourteen that my mother gave you.”
It took a second, then horror filled his gaze. His head jerked backwards. His nostrils flared. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” I clipped that one out now.
“Dusty. Those books, they were a gift…”
“I read the notes.”
I was calm. He was frantic. I saw it surging up in him.
And I didn’t give a fuck. I was cold. Numb.
I had moved on.
I waited a half second before I drove another nail into him. “I wonder if my dad left you a note, too? Maybe he did? Maybe he explained whatever the fuck happened between him and your mom?”
It came out as an accusation, but it was really a question. If he’d tell me or not, and I waited, bated breath, and when he stepped back, I knew.
He wasn’t going to tell me.
Then fuck him.
I didn’t need Stone.
We could go back to hating each other.
I didn’t need anything.
I didn’t need anyone.
Except Stone. You needed him last night, a voice whispered in the back of my mind.
I shut that down, real fucking quick.
“Dusty.” Stone’s head hung down. His hands went to his hips. He’d lost his fight.
I moved forward, knowing when to capitalize on the moment and I even gentled my tone, knowing it was the last and final nail in our coffin. “You’re off the hook.”
His head swung back up. “Excuse me?”
“Taking care of me. You said it yourself. You were doing it for her, but you’re off the hook. I’m letting you off the hook.” Another step forward, but this one hurt. It felt like I was pushing into wet cement, the kind that went to my chest. Still. I took another step, forcing myself. “I don’t know what she was talking about, the thing with your mom and my dad, and…” He went rigid. I pushed forward, “Maybe I don’t want to know after all. Maybe I’ll find out and I’ll hate him, and right now, I can’t hate him. I’m still mourning him.”
“Dusty.” So quiet now. He was giving in.
I was winning.
Another step. This time the cement was almost dry, but I pushed through. I had to. “Thank you for everything, and I mean it. Everything.”
His eyes darkened. Oh yeah. He got my drift.
I went on, “But I’ll take it from here.” I reached for the door, my intention pretty obvious, but I paused.
He continued to stare at me. A full thirty seconds. Another thirty.
My heart was pounding, wondering if he was going to let it go, let us go, half fearing he would and half needing him to, and then he jerked forward. My heart jumped into my throat as he circled the back of my neck, dragging me to him. He stopped, our foreheads were almost touching, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t.
“Don’t call me when you’re needing someone’s dick to help chase away the nightmares, Dust.”
He spoke quiet so the other two couldn’t hear, but his words…they pierced me and my hand fell away from the door, but he was gone after that.
Fine.
Good riddance.
I shut the door after him and threw the lock on.
“Actually, you don’t need—” From Lisa.
I threw her a scathing look. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Concussions sucked.
I was going nuts by late morning. Everyone had left from the house. I assumed Lisa told everyone I was back because they were quiet, or quieter than they used to be, or maybe they were getting into the swing of school again? Either way, I couldn’t stay in my room any longer.