Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
His brother looked the opposite, like he was the hero.
Smooth skin. Clear eyes. He was classically handsome except for a nose that was crooked, just a little like it’d been broken a few too many times. Will was the guy who went to church on Sundays. Brett was the guy who threw on a worn leather jacket and hit the road on the back of a Harley Davidson. The two were so opposite, but on a second glance, a second feel for them both, and that’s where the similarities lay.
Underneath his almost preppy exterior, the same edge of restlessness clung to his brother, and then there were the eyes. Will’s were sky blue, but it wasn’t the color. It was the look in them, that he’d seen too much in life. As I pulled my gaze away and took in his wife, then their kids, I knew instantly whose were his and who were from their sister.
His wife and his children were untouched. There was an innocence to them, and as Will moved back around to stand beside his wife, the rest of what I’d felt from him clicked into place. That was the edgy restlessness.
He saw things he did not want to see again, and he would do anything to keep his family from viewing that side of life as well. That was where I knew he was Brett’s brother.
It was the promise that if someone hurt their family, they would kill that person. They would relish killing that person.
Brett stepped close to me again, his hand resting on the small of my back. “Billie, this is my family.”
His nieces were adorable, the fourteen-year-old and the eight-year-old.
Stevie was almost Goth with dark lipstick and dark eyeshadow. Pale skin. Dark hair, but it was dyed blonde with the roots showing. She had a lip ring and a pierced nose, and she stood at the back of the room in an oversized dark plaid shirt and black leggings.
She was Shannon’s.
She was also beautiful, though she was trying to cover it up.
If I made eye contact, she’d avert her gaze every time. Her eyes tracked Will’s wife, Harmony, constantly.
The irony of that name was not lost on me.
The eight-year-old, Sammy, was the opposite. She was the definition of sunshine. Bright blonde hair. Bouncy curls. Smooth brown skin. Dark eyes, and she was all smiles. She even wore a yellow top with a white lace overlay over leggings, also yellow. She couldn’t stop throwing herself at Uncle Bread, which was a hysterical nickname. Brett caught her every time and swung her in the air, her delighted shrieks convulsed into giggles and once he set her back on her feet, she’d back up, run, and throw herself at him all over again.
Georgie was shyer, though I got a glimpse of him. The little boy. Deep dark eyes, wavy black hair, and his skin was also light brown. He stayed in the bedroom, playing video games with his two cousins, Brett’s other nephews. All of them came out to see who arrived when I arrived, but quickly returned. None of them had come back out to our room.
The three of them—Stevie, Georgie, and Sammy—were very much a unit. I noticed it when it came time for everyone to go to bed. Harmony was the first to mention bedtime, but everyone ignored her until Stevie stood up. Georgie was the first of the boys to stand from the floor, putting away his game player. Sammy extricated herself from Brett right after, skipping over to Stevie and taking her hand. They went into the back bedroom.
Harmony moved between the rooms, but it was obvious that Stevie was handling everything with her siblings. When they were ready, she lingered in the doorway as Sammy first came to hug Uncle Bread goodnight. Georgie was next, holding his uncle long and tight. After they disappeared into their bedrooms Stevie came over to give Brett a hug. She was fighting tears as she pulled back.
“Hey.” Brett stopped her, his hand on her arm. “I’d like to talk to you.”
She looked at it, and he dropped it away. She took a shuddering breath, her head down. “Thank you for everything, Uncle Brett.” She raised her head, squared back her shoulders. “But no—” Brett opened his mouth so she spoke over him. “I know what’s going on with Mom. I know that she’s trying to get me back.” She looked at Will and Harmony, who came out of their boys’ room, shutting the door gently. “You’re not going to take me away from them. I don’t care that I’m almost an adult. I ain’t going back to her, and if you try to make me, I’ll run.” Her gaze skimmed over me, and she shuddered. “I’ll run and I’ll take them with me.”
“Stevie,” Will said.