Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
RAFE’S SWING of the tire iron is so powerful that he almost busts through the top of the trunk.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
Mikal, Carlos, and Dorothy went to town with the tire iron before they dispersed, everyone agreeing they weren’t in the mood for a workshop, but they were timid and didn’t do much real damage. Mischa left right away. DeShawn just stood, bulging muscles tensed beneath his spotless white button-down, and watched the action, arms crossed like he was holding himself in check. Ricky watched out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t participate either.
Rafe thought I was kidding when I handed him the tire iron, but since he said he didn’t want to go to his boxing gym, I figured it’d help him get some aggression out. He seems almost surprised at his own power and looks at me nervously.
“Go for it,” I say. Not like we need to open the trunk for anything.
He looks around to check that no one’s going to see, then proceeds to beat in the trunk of the car until it’s totally concave. He’s breathing heavily, but he doesn’t look quite as tense as he did. He clears his throat and hands me back the tire iron, staring at the damage he just inflicted.
“Hey, now it’s an El Camino,” I tell him, tossing the tire iron in the backseat since I definitely can’t get it back in the trunk.
“You want to run?” Rafe asks, drifting close to me but not touching.
“Yeah. By my house?”
Rafe nods. I keep offering, but Rafe never wants to run by his apartment and never wants to hang out there. I get the feeling he doesn’t spend much time there, period. He’s started leaving running clothes at my house.
He walks to my car with me and sinks into the passenger seat, keeping his eyes closed as I drive.
“Is he okay?” I ask. “What’s up?”
Rafe sighs deeply. “No. Not really.” He rubs his eyes. “His dad found out he’s been coming to YA and he’s furious. The kids need parental permission since they’re minors and Anders didn’t have it, so he can’t be here. He started coming with Mikal, and it was right after Javi died. With everything that was going on, I… I must’ve forgotten to check. Fuck, I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“So, what, you just kick him out?”
Rafe glares. “I don’t have a choice!”
“But would his dad even have to know?”
“That’s not how it works, Colin. YA serves a lot of other youth. We can’t risk it.”
“But what if—”
“Look.” His voice is tight with anger. He’s definitely done with this conversation. “It sucks. I know it does. But that’s just how it is.”
“I guess it’s just one more year,” I offer.
“What?”
“One more year. Until Anders can move out and then his dad won’t have control over him anymore.”
Rafe looks at me sharply. “Fathers can have control over you at any age, don’t you think?”
RAFE RUNS until he nearly exhausts himself, keeping up with me for the first five miles and then only dropping back a few blocks. Even though it’s a chilly day, we’re both soaked with sweat by the time we collapse on my porch.
“Goddamn, you’re fast,” Rafe mutters, like he always does. He turns to me and his gaze is intense, his cheeks flushed. “Take a shower with me?” he asks, running a hand through my sweaty hair. We’ve never done that.
I nod and Rafe pulls me up, our legs shaky.
Rafe’s presence makes my small bathroom feel even smaller as we peel off our sweaty clothes. Rafe steps under the hot water and reaches for me, finally relaxing a little when he pulls me against him. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this—the feel of him against me, around me. It’s overwhelming and I shut my eyes against the overstimulation and concentrate on the water.
Rafe’s hands are gentle, but I can practically feel the energy vibrating off him, and when I look up at him, he’s looking right at me. I smile, self-conscious, but Rafe uses his thumb like an eraser to scrub the smile away and kisses me as the water pounds down around us. After a minute, though, he just holds me to him, arms tight around me, clearly still upset.
Rafe sighs and washes his hair with the bar of soap. I really should get some shampoo for him.
He strokes a soapy hand up and down my spine, but his hand lingers on my lower back and I tense automatically, realizing that he’s probably seeing my tattoo in the light for the first time. Not an accident on my part.
“Can I look?”
He says it like it’s nothing, but I’m so immediately furious it makes my head spin.
Rafe kneels down behind me. He holds my hip and traces a finger over the tattoo, and I struggle to hold still.