Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“I’m not sleeping with you.” But still, I wasn’t pulling away either. It had been a long time since I’d been touched like this, since I’d stood so close to someone who wanted me, and Parrish clearly did. I hadn’t had sex with anyone since before I went inside. There were guys in prison who fucked other inmates—some wanted it, some didn’t—but I didn’t do that shit. It had been me and my hand, and part of me wanted to touch…to be touched.
“I’m not sleeping with you either.” Parrish stayed close, still touching me, the scent of him filling my senses. “But I do have your back. I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to, but if I hear something you need to know, I’ll tell you. I won’t let them hurt you or Betsy.”
His words threw cold water on my lust, making me pull back. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself. I’ll kill them both before I let either of them lay a hand on her.”
“So stubborn.” Parrish shook his head just as there was a knock at the door. We jerked even farther apart, like we were kids in hiding about to get busted.
“Fuck,” I gritted out, knowing it would be Grandma. While she didn’t want me around Rex anymore, she was already pushing me to get out and meet people. Did she think anyone in Clayton wanted me around them? I was a murderer to them. But I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about Parrish being here, thinking I was getting tight with the Hunts again or getting back to my old ways.
She knocked again. She wasn’t the type to go away, so I went to the door, not opening it enough for her to see inside. “Do you need something? I can come over and help in a minute.”
“Is Parrish Hunt in there?”
Shit. Of course she would know his truck. I kept my voice low when I said, “It’s not what you think. He works with me. I’m not getting in with them again.”
Grandma frowned. “Oh, stop it. Parrish Hunt is nothing like the rest of them. He’s good people. Always helping others, doing the right thing, and even taking care of those sweet babies.” She pushed her way around me, and I had no choice but to step out of the way. “Hello, Parrish. What a surprise. You should stay for dinner with me and Riven. He needs to meet nice friends.”
Oh hell. “He can’t. He’s busy.”
“I’d love to, Ms. Betsy. I can even help you cook.”
The two of them headed out of my room without me. Fuck my life. No good could come of this.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Parrish
I was still trying to wrap my head around the day’s strange turn of events. Everything I had learned was fucked up and pissed me off and a hundred other emotions I was trying to sort through. And now I was going to have dinner with them, something I should have said no to but hadn’t.
“What are we making?” I asked Betsy when we got inside. It was a smallish, old farmhouse Betsy and her husband had built. He’d passed away a couple of years afterward, before Riven had moved in with her. It was clean and homey in a way my dad’s place had never been. When we were kids, it had always been me who took care of that stuff. It wasn’t as if Dad or Rex would have, and I knew they would wait around until I did it, so I’d started by trying to keep up on the cleaning. When I was younger, I used to tell myself that it had been different before my mom died, that she would have done all the things other people’s moms did, that she would have made sure we were taken care of, but that was wishful thinking. She and my dad had been too much alike.
“My famous fried chicken. Riven loves it.” She gave Riven a smile that was full of so much damn love. He had his arms crossed, visibly grumbling over me being there, but he couldn’t help returning her grin.
He loved her more than anything, that much was clear. It was the exact reason my family had used her to manipulate him.
Just the thought made my gut twist uncomfortably. I wanted to kill them myself.
“He’s not much of a cook,” Betsy added.
“I didn’t do much of it in prison.”
She waved him off. “You weren’t much of a cook before that either. It’s not an excuse.”
“Hmm, maybe I’ll have to teach him how,” I said, which was stupid. What happened today hadn’t made Riven and me friends. He didn’t trust me, and I couldn’t blame him. Why would he believe anyone in my family? But I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Not after what he’d been through because of them.