Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
“Hey,” Misha said, and I heard the door close.
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, his presence making me feel like the walls were closing in. We were always close, despite the age difference, but I hated that he’d gotten tangled up in this. He never liked drama, and he hated my friends.
And I’d been without him a long time. Too long.
I turned and studied him, seeing the tail of a tattoo drift over his collarbone and his lip ring gleam in the small light.
He shifted on his feet. “I’m sorry it took us so long to find you,” he said.
I crossed my arms over my chest and headed back to the desk, folding up the notes I’d taken from my calls and slipping the paper into my back pocket. “I wasn’t waiting for a rescue or expecting one.”
“Your fucking parents,” he mumured. “They just…”
“They didn’t send me there,” I told him.
My parents would never do that. They were at their wits ends, trying to figure out what to do with me, and they hid it from the rest of the family pretty well, but they wouldn’t give up on me like that.
“Grandpa?” Misha guessed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
I wasn’t ready to talk about Blackchurch and how I came to be there until I was sure my plan would work. I wasn’t in the clear yet, and I didn’t want to come clean until I was.
Misha stood there like they all stood there, because shit had changed, and it would be a while before we got back to normal. If ever.
He chuckled lightly. “I seem to remember your advice about not getting tattoos anywhere visible while wearing a suit?” he teased.
I met his eyes, seeing his gaze on my hands and the dark ink I’d added over the past year while I was gone.
I stood by my advice, but fuck it. I’d been bored there.
He approached, but I kept my gaze averted. “You were there for me—or tried to be as much as I would allow—when Annie died. I’m so sorry it took us so long.”
His hands shook a little, and I could hear the sorrow in his voice.
It took a moment to get the words out. “I was always coming home,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”
He was going to be pissed when he found out who was really to blame. I didn’t want him carrying any guilt.
“You’re different,” he said.
I nodded. “Yeah, I grew up.”
“I wish you hadn’t.”
I stopped and looked up at him.
“You never did see how much everyone needed you.” A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You. Just the way you were.”
No one needed me. I’d been useless.
But I wasn’t anymore. Devil’s Night was in three days, and Thunder Bay would be ours, free and clear, in four days if I had anything to say about it.
Misha looked like he wanted to hug me or something, which was strange, because he wasn’t affectionate, but then he turned and walked for the cabin door, opening it to leave.
I wanted to go after him, but… I picked up the phone, getting ready to make another call instead.
Nothing was going to be normal for a while with any of them. I had to stay focused.
But then I heard Damon’s voice. “I need to talk to him.”
I shot my eyes up, seeing him loom over Misha and trying to squeeze past.
“I’m trying to fucking leave, if you would move,” Misha spat out.
Damon pushed his way in, Misha stumbling into the hall, but I stalked over and grabbed the door before Damon could close it.
“I can’t right now,” I told him. “I’ll talk later.”
“No…”
“I can’t.” I pushed him out the door. “Please, man…”
My pulse raced, my blood boiled, and my brain was spiraling out of control. I had a chess board full of pieces, and I was playing both sides. I needed to think. There was no time to lose. He could ruffle my hair later.
“Dammit,” Damon growled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured him, hanging in the doorway as he glared at me from the corridor. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I need to sleep.”
Rolling his eyes, he gave in and spun around, heading off. “Fine.”
But then guilt nipped at me. “Wait.”
He stopped and turned, his white T-shirt wrinkled and his black pants stark against his pale, bare feet.
I felt a smile pull at the corners of my mouth. “So, what’s his name?”
A gleam hit his eyes. “Ivarsen.”
Ivarsen. My heart warmed a little. We had another boy running around. Kai’s son, Madden.
Needles pricked my throat. I’d missed Winter giving birth.
“Next gen, huh?”
“Get your ass moving and catch up,” he teased.
Yeah. I didn’t see kids on my horizon any time soon, but…someday.
He started to leave, but I stopped him.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He met my eyes again. “North of the border,” he said. “We’re cruising the coast, and we’ll pass under Deadlow Island and arrive home in the morning.”