Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
It looks like things are back to normal for her. She’s starting over in a new place. Seems like she’s adjusting to college well. What am I supposed to do—approach her like nothing happened and shatter the peace she’s found here?
I care about her way too much to be that guy.
Molly and her friend head out of the cafe.
I wait a few beats then shove my laptop in my backpack, grab my coffee and go. That short glimpse of Molly wasn’t enough.
Outside, I duck my head out of the building first and look both ways. The girls have moved fast, already halfway down the long sidewalk to my right.
I hurry out, slip my arms through my backpack straps, jam my hands in my pockets and hustle to get closer. Not too close. Just enough to catch Molly’s scent in the air or hear her voice again.
Every cell in my body wants to continue following her for the rest of the day. To see where her classes are. Where her dorm is. Who she hangs out with.
No. Confronting her here would be a shitty thing to do. I’m so fucking proud of her and I love her too damn much to do anything that might upset her when she’s focused on school.
Even casually dressed in loose green sweats and a big black hoodie, Molly’s still the most beautiful person anywhere. My gaze hasn’t strayed from her once.
Hoodie. Wait.
I almost stumble over my feet.
That’s mine. One of the many hoodies she’s stolen from me over the years. It’s old. A faded roses and brass knuckles design Vapor drew years ago spills over the back of the sweatshirt. If it’s the shirt I’m thinking of, Stonewall is embroidered into one of the sleeves. She went no contact with me after the Kiki incident, but she brought one of my old sweatshirts with her to college? Molly’s way too sentimental for that to be an accident.
She hasn’t given up on me. On us.
My confidence returns with a vengeance.
I’m going to win back my girl.
Not today, but soon.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Griff
The trip to spy on Molly wore me out. I spend the next week planning, plotting, and sleeping. And wallowing. Lots of wallowing.
I swear my bones actually throb. Maybe I should’ve risked it and said yes to the Vicodin prescription the doc offered.
Fuck that. I need to rest and not take long motorcycle rides to stalk my girlfriend who doesn’t even want to talk to me.
Still worth it. Seeing her in my hoodie gave me hope. The setback in my recovery is a small price to pay.
But lounging around sucks. I feel like a lazy little pansy.
My mind’s racing too fast to fall asleep. I’m sort of hovering somewhere in between.
From the living room, there’s a click and scrape. Someone opening my front door?
“Griff!” Remy calls out.
I pull the covers over my head.
The floor creaks as he makes his way through my apartment.
“It’s Friday afternoon, what are you doing in bed?” My blanket is rudely ripped away from my body.
“This is getting old,” I grumble, yanking the blanket back into place.
“Come on, let’s go to Zips.” He drops onto the edge of the bed and tugs on the blanket again. “Eraser installed these high-flow fuel injectors in Ella’s ride. He wants to test it out.”
“So, run it. You don’t need me.” Who knew there’d come a day when I wouldn’t give a fuck about car upgrades.
“Griff.” His patient dad tone makes an annoying appearance. “You need to get out.”
“I’m not supposed to be seen in public, remember?” I crack open one eye. “I went to the doctor the other day. Visited your house.” Stalked your sister all over campus. “What more do you want from me?”
“I want you to get your ass out of bed and come hang with your friends for a few hours.”
“You mean, everyone who thinks I’m a cheating asshole? No thanks.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “No one thinks that.”
“Anymore,” I correct and then offer my next excuse. “My face still looks like a damn Voodoo doll’s.”
“Well, it’s the costume night I told you about. Wear a fucking mask.”
Now he has my attention. I throw off the blanket and ease myself into a sitting position.
“Ohhh, does something about that interest you?” His wide, mocking eyes only make his face more punchable.
I glare at him.
“Molly will be there,” he confirms.
I tentatively touch my face. At least it hurts less.
“Except for your eye, most of the bruising has faded.” Remy sighs. “It’ll be dark enough. She might not notice.”
“Get out of my way.” I tug on the blanket he’s sitting on, trapping me in the bed.
“Why?” he asks with mocking slowness. “Where are you going?”
“To take a shower. I smell like despair and self-pity.”
“Got that right.” He wrinkles his nose and stands, backing away.
As soon as I put weight on my knee, it buckles. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “She might not notice my face, but this limp is obvious as fuck.”