Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Well, after I was nominated for prom queen, I won. Then, when I got up on stage before my date could arrive, they threw eggs at me and ruined the dress that I spent months saving for. And, after I tried to leave, my prom date cornered me and tried to rip my dress off of me because I owed him,” I continued.
Johnny’s fists clenched, and his eyes narrowed.
The tips of his ears turned red, too.
It was absolutely adorable.
But he didn’t say a word, he just waited with barely concealed violence for me to continue.
“He ripped my dress at the knees, but I was able to get away from him by using a nerve strike that I read about in a book in the library.”
Johnny’s lips twitched at my words.
“I immediately went and stole a bottle of whiskey from the nearest convenience store, then walked—because I didn’t have a car— back over to the school parking lot and set his car on fire.”
Johnny burst out laughing.
“Does that sound like someone who deals well with being insulted or humiliated?” I asked him. “The people in this town have a reason to hate me. You, on the other hand, don’t have that to deal with. So, you got pissed at some assholes and your mouth got away from you. Big fucking deal.”
“Having a tracheotomy, even one that was temporary like mine, got me kicked out of the military.” He paused, his neck tightening one more time. “I didn’t handle it well, and I left my parents’ house because all they fucking did was worry about me and over me, trying to run my life, despite the fact that I’d been an adult for a very long time.”
I snorted. “My grandfather tried to pay off my college debt, and he did that by calling the school and pretending to be my husband. Trust me when I say, I’m no stranger to overbearing family…but they really do mean well.”
He grunted. “I need to call them.”
“So, call them,” I challenged.
He sighed. “It’s not that easy.”
“This is that easy. You can do it. I know you can.”
He grumbled something under his breath. “Honestly, I’m scared to. I don’t want to hear my mom cry.”
I walked over to where he was sitting, and then straddled his lap.
“I’ll help you,” I informed him. “Where is your phone?”
He handed it to me, and then gave me his password to put in.
I did and smiled when I saw the background picture.
“That’s an awful shot of me,” I told him.
“Not really. I just like your ass in it,” he teased.
I giggled, then hit the phone app, freezing when I saw the first name on the list of incoming calls.
“Rosie?” I asked, showing him.
He sighed.
“Was that the call you got yesterday that got you pissed?” she asked.
“This Rosie and that Rosie aren’t the same person,” he admitted. “This Rosie,” he gestured to the phone. “Is actually Roland. He was dubbed Rosie as a joke when he tried to pick up this chick at a bar and blushed fifty shades of red while he tried to do it. He was rejected, and each girl that walked past him that night got the same reaction out of him, which was why we nicknamed him Rosie.” He hung his head. “Rosie’s not in a good place these days.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, placing the phone on the arm of the couch.
“The Army let him go with a medical discharge just like they did me, but Rosie doesn’t have the same support that I do, and he’s a lot worse off,” he explained. “Not just physically, either. Mentally.”
“You’re having problems integrating back into society?” I asked, my concern for him filling my voice.
I never would’ve known that Johnny was having any problems at all. He was usually so upbeat and bright.
“I’m having problems controlling my temper. At night, I barely catch two hours of sleep—which is why I’m always game to take the night shifts. Sometimes, it’s easier to hide from my demons during the day—and that seems to be the only time I can grab some shut-eye.”
“That’s why you won’t stay over when I ask you to,” I surmised.
He shrugged. “I don’t want to wake up to me stabbing you in my sleep.”
My brows rose. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”
At least, I hoped it was.
Surely, he wasn’t serious…was he?
He looked down at my hands. “I have this one reoccurring dream. It’s me fighting with a fucking child bomber. He was trying to pull the pin on a grenade, and I was trying to wrestle him to the ground while also trying not to hurt him. When I pulled the grenade from his hand, he pulled a knife. I ended up stabbing him with his own knife when he tried to stab me in the face.”