Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I reach over and tap the bracelet. Then I toss the shirt in a giveaway pile.
“Fuck my life,” I say, sighing.
A purple Tennessee Arrows shirt that used to be a favorite one of mine peeks out from under a misplaced hoodie. I reach across the tote to grab it when a shadow crosses the doorway.
Eyes glued to the opening, I slowly move into a crouch.
“Hey,” Banks says, poking his head around the corner.
I grab a shoe and chuck it his way. He laughs, easily missing it, so I throw another one for good measure.
“One of these days, you’re going to get killed walking into people’s houses,” I say.
He winks. “Nah, I knew I was safe here. I went through all your shit while you were gone.”
Bastard. “What do you want?” I ask, falling back on my ass.
“If I had known you were gonna throw shit at me, I wouldn’t have brought you pizza.” He holds a plate covered in foil. “You didn’t come to Moss’s, so I brought you leftovers.”
Damn you, Banks.
I lean back on my hands and blow out a long, tired breath.
“Brooke said she texted Pippa, and Pip said she wasn’t feeling well.” He frowns. “I suck at math, but I put two-and-two together. Sorry, man.”
This is his saving grace. This is the reason Banks can pull off the shit he does, but we all still love him. The guy has a heart of fucking gold.
“Thanks, Banks.”
He flinches. “No Sparkles? Wow. You must be fucked up.”
I grab another shoe and toss it toward him again. This time, he doesn’t move, just laughs, and it falls a few feet in front of him.
“You wanna talk about it?” he asks. “If not, I’ll put the pizza in the fridge and go … somewhere else.”
I don’t want to smile, but I do.
He puts the plate on my dresser and then leans against the doorjamb. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m having a hard time figuring out what kind of problem you two had. When it was Brooke and Moss, it was easy. Moss has issues.” He grins. “And when it was Ashley and Maddox, again—easy. Things get hard, Maddox stops. But you, my brother that’s not in my wolfpack anymore, I can’t quite figure out how you fucked things up.”
I try to glare at him. I try. But his shit-eating grin makes it impossible.
“Maybe I didn’t fuck it up. Did you consider that?” I ask.
“I did. Because I know you. You like everyone to think you’re an approachable asshole.”
I lift a brow. “An approachable asshole? Really?”
“Yeah. Foxx is just an asshole. You’ll still talk and engage me when I’m bored, but you don’t want anyone to think you like it. You don’t want to lose your edge.”
“I assure you that I don’t like coming home to find a rooster in my yard. Or your stickers everywhere. And I don’t like when you take shit out of my pantry. Or my tools.”
He holds a hand in the air. “We’re getting off track. This isn’t about me.”
I roll my eyes.
“You don’t fuck shit up, Jess. You’re the most responsible one out of us. That’s why you’re Dad’s favorite.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
He chuckles. “My point is … where is she?”
I groan as I get to my feet. A pile of T-shirts is beside me, and another is by the door.
“What are you doing with those?” he asks.
“Donating them.”
“To me?”
I shake my head and pass him. I grab the plate and take out a slice of pizza.
“Let me help you,” Banks says. “Tell me your problems, and I’ll tell you what to do.”
“What on earth do you know about relationships?”
He grins cheekily. “I’ve been conversing with a lot of very experienced ladies as of late.”
I choke on my pizza.
Although I don’t want to hash it out aloud, because God knows I’ve done it mentally a million times this evening, Banks has made an effort. At least it won’t be just me moping in my head.
I tap the bracelet.
“To put it in its simplest terms—she’s scared to be loved. Really, that’s it.”
He flinches. “I don’t get it. Does she not want to be loved?”
“No, she does. It just … makes her feel vulnerable. She doesn’t know what to do with that. She associates someone ‘loving’ her as pain. And I just have to show her that’s not what it’s like here. I’m not going away. She can kick and scream and whatever she wants, but that won’t change anything.”
Banks grins. “You’re all right. I almost take back everything I said about you.”
I grin too. “That’s okay. I don’t take back anything I said about you.”
Together, we laugh.
“Want to go to town, grab some beer, and sit out on the dock and talk shit?” he asks.
I know he doesn’t really want to do that. We haven’t drunk on the dock in years. But the fact that he’s willing to do that for me—to take my mind off this—means a lot.