Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
She flips over suddenly. “He let you stay?”
I chuckle as I walk closer to the bed and kick off my heels. Lynch is Eric? Good to know. “He won’t let me leave.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“I literally just told him the exact same thing,” I mutter as I pull back the covers and climb under them. I don’t imagine the chill from being terrified outside will leave me anytime soon.
“You need to watch your mouth around him. The men here are,” she pauses as if she’s unable to come up with the right word, “they aren’t like any guys you’ve ever been around. Pissing Lynch off is bad for everyone involved.”
“You know I don’t have it in me to back down to jerks.”
“Seriously.” Molly rolls over and clutches my arm. “Don’t push him. Staying as far away from him as possible is the best thing you can do.”
“He had a lot of questions about you.”
Her face falls. “Did you tell him about school?”
“No,” I assure her. “That’s not my story to tell. He did ask if you were pregnant, and I shut that train of thought down immediately.”
She snorts.
“That was my response as well.” I lay back further on the soft bed. “I asked him why is that the first fucking thing guys assume?”
“It’s a common assumption around here,” she answers, her voice more tired than I’ve ever heard before, and that’s saying something because we were up for over thirty-six hours last semester cramming for finals.
“So he doesn’t know your v-card remains unpunched?”
She shakes her head before reaching over and turning the lamp on her bedside off. I wait to speak again until she’s settled beside me.
“Is Briar your brother?”
I feel her head snap in my direction. “No.”
“Is he Lynch’s brother?”
“No. Why would you ask me that?”
“You and TJ look alike, but Lynch doesn’t look like either one of you, and Briar called him Brother downstairs. Don’t jump in my shit because I’m confused. I’m still pissed at you for lying to me about this place.”
“Lynch has a different mom than TJ and me. I didn’t tell you about my connections because every time I’ve mentioned it to friends in the past, they won’t shut up about it. They think the clubhouse is like some museum, inviting themselves to come home with me.”
“And I did exactly that when I squealed when you asked me to come?” I feel like an asshole.
“No. I know you aren’t like them. Old habits die hard, I guess, but it sure didn’t take you long to sit on my brother’s face.”
“I didn’t… I mean... that’s not—”
She grips my arm to shut me up. “When you were talking in the car about boning the president of the club, I thought you were talking about my dad. I was completely grossed out. I was hoping we could hang out without seeing him.”
“I’m sorry about his passing.” I roll over to face her even though I can’t see a damn thing in this room.
“Don’t be,” she mutters. The emotion clogging her throat earlier in that room when she yelled at her brother is nowhere to be found.
“Did Briar tell you what happened?”
“Heart attack,” she explains. “I’m not upset that he’s gone. My dad was mean. I’m pissed that my family didn’t bother to tell me.”
“They didn’t even tell you about the funeral?” I’m realizing that there isn’t a thing that has happened today that I fully understand. It’s like I’ve stepped out of the real world and landed in some alternate universe.
“We don’t really do funerals around here.”
“Is Briar the guy you want but can’t have?”
“No,” she snaps. “Don’t even say shit like that. It’s dangerous.”
“But he isn’t your’s or Lynch’s brother?”
“Nope.”
“If his name is Eric, why in the hell does everyone call him Lynch?”
“Let’s hope you never have a reason to find out.”
She rolls over, and I’m left to stare into the pitch-black darkness until sleep drags me under.
It takes hours.
Chapter 7
Lynch
I went to bed pissed.
I woke up pissed.
Not every day is the same.
Some days I wake up only mildly irritated.
Days like today when I have a strange woman in my house, a sister who won’t tell me shit, and an empty sugar canister and no damn milk, only have the potential to get worse.
Cringing when the taste of black coffee hits my tongue, I try to calm the urge to find TJ and split his head open like a log. I’m a violent man, but blood and gore don’t do it for me. I’m a rope man, preferring the quick snap of a neck over anything else unless I’m angry beyond reasoning. Today holds the probability of bloody violence.
Being out of control, feeling like an intruder in my own life leaves me antsy. My dad didn’t face his problems head-on. He preferred snorting a line or two before he confronted issues. He was never strong enough to make decisions that needed to be made without a little chemical help.