Total pages in book: 212
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
Her actions speak for themselves, though. And I’d been sifting through all I know about her during my shower. Yeah, it’s a risk taking on a woman who harms herself. Especially after the shit I’ve lived through. But something about Gianna Grace Jones tells me she could be worth the trouble. That having me, knowing I’ve got her back, could change her perspective about her life. She seems pretty alone. With a lot to give. And I can’t help but want it for myself.
She stuck by someone she cared about – her stepsister. She did the right thing in coming to Deke about what she knew about the Jackals hatching a plan to hurt some women, doing it despite the lack of means, which some would use as an excuse to stay out of the drama. Particularly after Rider warned her to stay away, banning her from the clubhouse. Some chicks would throw their hands up and use that as an excuse to stay out of it. And at least three of our women could’ve been killed if she’d done that.
She apologized to me for being bitchy after I read those two pages in her journal. I did her wrong and she didn’t hold the grudge for long.
She’s thrown by the way I’m treating her, by any kindness she gets. She’s been trying to remain aloof in order to stay firmly in her ‘place’ as a club hang-around, a biker bunny.
She doesn’t want to take charity from the club, wants to solve her problems herself, probably so that no one who has shitty things to say about her can feel vindicated. Doesn’t let people pay her bills. But she feels stuck. Nobody’s ever had her back, not her aunt, not her father, so when people try, like me and Delia, she shies away.
Her job is looking after lonely old people who need help. She gets attached to them and feels it when she loses them.
She hurt herself before hurting my mother’s feelings by not disclosing her allergy.
She has a voice like an angel and a body designed to tempt men to sin. And people treat her like shit because she’s beautiful. Because they’re either jealous of her or wanna fuck her.
She has nobody good in her life and she’s tired of disappointment so has stopped reaching for that through trying to be part of the brotherhood. Because she didn’t find the right in. Got labelled wrongly.
I might not know much about Gianna Jones, but I know enough to wanna know what else she’s about. To wanna know if she’s the woman who deserves to ride with me, to be beside me in my sheets long-term.
“Thanks for gettin’ rid of Skip,” she said as I got my neck through the t-shirt neck hole.
I shrugged on my cut and sifted my fingers through my wet hair to slick it back.
“You wanna tell me the story there?” I sat on the bed with a pair of socks.
“Not really. It’s ancient history.”
“Clearly isn’t.” I got one sock on and looked over my shoulder.
She shrugged and stared at the bed.
I made a decision. I pulled the second sock on, got into my boots, then I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone. “Need to go out for an hour. Be back before church. Need anything?”
She shook her head.
“Want anything?”
“I want a lot of things,” she joked, playing with loose comforter threads.
“Yeah. Sometimes what you want is right in front of you. Just gotta accept it.”
Her smile vanished and she tilted her head, eyes searching my face.
“What do you think about that?” I asked.
She flinched.
“Sometimes you just gotta grab hold,” I told her.
She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“A lotta things.”
“Spit it out.”
She shook her head.
“You wanna grab hold?” I asked.
She swallowed and shook her head, not in the negative of saying no, more like she wasn’t able to wrap her mind around what I was saying.
“Sometimes you think you can grab something and take it, but you really can’t.” She tied the thread off with a knot and let go of it.
Tryin’ to fix a comforter that’s not even hers. Stop it from fraying further.
“Sometimes you can.”
Her brows knitted together briefly before she sighed. “I don’t have the brainpower for philosophy most days, especially not today, Jesse.”
“You want anything? Booze, snacks for later, somethin’ else?”
“No, thanks.” She looked disappointed. She thought I was dropping it. Or that she was misreading me.
“You sure?” I asked.
She wants things. She’s just afraid she’ll never have them. And for reasons I can’t fully explain, I wanna give them to her.
“I’m just gonna watch some TV. Maybe sleep a little.”
I kissed her and turned for the door. I looked over my shoulder and gave her a look loaded with meaning. Meaning she just might’ve been starting to get by the way she sat, stiffly, looking alarmed.