Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “And what’s that got to do with anything I said?”
He gave me a droll look. “It may or may not have anything to do with ‘it.’ Whatever his problem may be. But you need to realize that things are going to be intensified. Reactions stronger, anger swifter, sorrow greater. Until he gets acclimated to being on US soil again, he’s going to act a lot differently than he did before.”
I thought about that for a long moment, and then decided that maybe he was right.
Whatever was said in the room beyond the bar tonight had affected him.
He’d been in a great mood earlier in the day.
Then all of a sudden he’d turned a one eighty, and hadn’t even looked at me all night except for covert glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.
But not once had he said a word to me after he stepped foot out of that room.
“Whatever,” I finally said.
I didn’t really want to talk about this.
Being rational about it wasn’t helping.
I wasn’t a ‘rational’ thinking kind of person.
I’d always thought with my heart.
Which equaled more ‘seat of my pants’ kind of reactions.
“Come with me tonight. I’ll take you to my pond,” he said suddenly.
I blinked, turning to him to study his face.
The green light from his dash lit up his paper-thin skin, and outlined the wrinkles, causing dark shadows to appear.
“I can’t,” I said reluctantly. “Can I come sometime soon, though? I think I’d like to learn how.”
He nodded. “You know where I live.”
I nodded again, and turned as the truck came to a bouncing stop in front of my house.
I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew where I lived.
Everyone knew where I lived.
It was the talk of the town about the convict living in the nice ‘burb of Benton.
“Okay, Mr. Adams. Thank you for the ride,” I said, opening my door.
However, when my feet both met the pavement outside my home, Mr. Adams stopped me.
“You know,” he said. “There was this one time with my Annie that I was really upset. I’d had a really bad day at work, and I wanted to talk to her. However, she was too busy doing something else, and a neighbor woman came over to offer my Annie a pie. Well, the neighbor lady and I got to talking, and my Annie came out spitting mad because I was talking to another woman that wasn’t her. You wanna know why I did it?”
I shook my head.
But my answer was the opposite of what I was feeling.
“Why did you do it?” I asked softly.
He smiled, looking far away into a memory that I couldn’t see.
“Because I knew she’d fight for me. She may have been busy, but I knew all I had to do was talk to that woman, and she’d get un-busy. Because that’s my Annie. She was possessive and I liked her that way. Which begs to question…why didn’t you do something?”
I looked at him for a long time, wondering the same thing.
Why hadn’t I done something?
Why hadn’t I forced the issue?
And as I fell asleep that night, upset now at myself and not him, I realized two things.
One, I was in love with Sterling.
And two, I needed to fight for him if he was what I wanted.
Because he deserved to be fought for.
Chapter 8
Be patriotic. Show your boobies to a veteran.
-T-shirt
Ruthie
I walked out on my front porch the next morning, hoping beyond hope that my newspaper was there, and was startled to see a man on my porch reading it.
“Thanks for getting it,” I said, yanking the offending paper out of his hand and going back inside.
My paper was stolen from my front lawn four out of seven days a week, and I was just happy that it was there.
What I wasn’t happy with was Sterling being on my front porch.
I’d had time to reconnect with my anger after I’d called him three times this morning.
I would’ve slammed the door, but Sterling’s body was just suddenly there.
“Get out,” I said as I continued walking, smoothing the paper back in its original folded position before laying it on the kitchen table next to my coffee.
I sat down and arranged myself, picking up my Pop-Tart and taking a bite as I started to scan the first page.
I loved reading the paper.
It was so nice to know what was going on around me.
Something I’d become used to in the months since I’d been released from prison.
“I forgot my phone at home, and you weren’t answering your door. Where were you?” He asked me.
I looked up from my paper with half my Pop-Tart remaining.
“I was out in the backyard tending my garden,” I informed him.
He nodded. “I’ve been sitting on the porch for two hours now. Wish I would’ve known you were out back the whole time.”
I sighed.
“I was trying to be mad at you,” I told him.
His brows rose.
“Why?” He asked, genuinely confused.
“Because of that girl, Audie, hanging over you all night last night,” I said.
His head tilted sideways.
“I don’t remember anybody named Audie,” he finally answered.
I raised a brow. “Yeah, that makes sense. You were drunk off your ass, though.”
He shrugged.
“You’re not even going to tell me what had you so upset last night?” I continued.
He tilted his head, first one way and then the other, cracking it loudly before starting on his fingers.
The movement made the muscles in his forearm jump and release, drawing my attention to the way his shirt fit him.
There was no gap whatsoever in the entire t-shirt.
His jeans fit him well, too.
Too well.
Because then I started thinking about the things I wanted to do to him instead of the things he’d done yesterday to upset me.
He began, going straight to the problem at hand.
“A couple of years ago, when I first got into The Dixie Wardens,” Sterling said, sucking back half a glass of water before he turned to me, pinning me to the spot. “I asked Silas to look for someone.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I got from what I overheard.”