Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Chapter 3 – Trig
Trig hated seeing El in pain, and felt discomfort each time the needle pushed through his skin. El couldn’t see the operation happening on the steel surgical table due to a screen dividing him from the doctor, but the pain relief he’d been given didn’t eliminate all sensation, so he remained tense and way too pale for Trig’s liking.
During their time together, Trig had done everything in his power to ensure that his boyfriend had a soft place to sleep, something to keep him warm, and a full stomach. That was what had ultimately led him to the Coffin Nails MC in Detroit. Old enough to prospect, he saw the club as a means of keeping them both fed and safe. But the closer he’d been to the men who over time had become his brothers, the more El had pulled away from him.
The ultimatum that had come at the very end remained a thorn stuck in Trig’s chest, but he was done enduring El’s misery from afar. Trig would never again watch him cry into the pillow or fuck random guys who didn’t care about him. From now on, El would be in Trig’s care, and he’d make El see that it made sense if it killed him!
“How frequently do you have to dye your hair to keep the color so fresh?” the doctor asked. It was obvious that someone with a style as conservative as hers wouldn’t need any pointers from a young punk who lived without any real plans for the future, but it was nice of her to provide a distraction.
“Ah, every month or so.”
El ran his fingers through the Mohawk, which had gone flat, like the dorsal fin of a killer whale in captivity. While it never stayed one color for long, the toxic green was fresh, as if El wanted to warn anyone that the man they were approaching was a biohazard. But El hid a soft heart under all those porcupine features. The tattoos covering him all the way to his jaw, the piercings in his nose, cheeks, and lips might fool others, but not Trig.
Trig had met him before El had transformed into the man he was today. Back then he’d been a teen rebel, fresh from an affluent home, clueless on how to deal with the challenges of a life on the run from police and parents who wanted to ship him off to a conversion facility for teens. So Trig had taken him under his wing. In hindsight, they shouldn’t have spent all of El’s savings on two nights in a hotel and snacks, but El had never been particularly reasonable. It was what made him so endearing and addictive.
Trig weighed his phone in one hand and took in the small treatment room. It wasn’t much different from countless others he’d seen in the past few years, when getting patched up himself or helping out a brother, but being here with El felt like a game-changer.
His desire to care and protect was out in the open for once. El might have rejected him and even changed the tattoo they got together to spite Trig, but Trig wouldn’t turn his back on the one man who’d ever counted.
Over the years, Trig had secretly stocked up El’s cupboards with inconspicuous foods, fueled his vehicle, and left money for El to find, but his efforts hadn’t made much difference in the grand scheme of things. El hadn’t gotten his shit together, and while he managed to scrabble together enough funds for rent each month, his inability to hold on to a job and impulsiveness led him into the clutches of people he couldn’t handle.
Trigger’s mind kept fogging up with red steam when he imagined what could have happened if he hadn’t been there tonight. He only visited El once a week on average, due to all his commitments to the club, and if he hadn’t gotten lucky, El would have just disappeared on him. Gone forever. Mauled. His body dissolved in acid, as if he were trash.
The phone creaked when Trigger’s hand tightened on it too hard, and he moved it to his other palm to stretch the aching fist.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, approaching El in hope that his ex had come to his senses, but the anger flashing at him from kohled eyes was a warning. The gray-green shade of El’s irises was stormy on the best of days, but while meeting his gaze now was like looking at an approaching tornado, Trig no longer wanted to get out of its way.
El’s features had sharpened over the years, making him resemble a wild cat that might prove to be either docile or rabid. You wouldn’t know until you approached. To Trig, El had always been stunning. Not exactly pretty with his sharp edges and arched eyebrows, but he had charisma and a roguish charm no one could match. His slim frame never kept him out of a fight, and he remained bold and mouthy even though he should have long learned to shut up. All things Trig both hated and loved about him.