Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Her tear-streaked face furrows. “What… since when?”
“Last year. I didn’t plan on it, I only started working there because it was the only job I could get at the time, but then the opportunity came, and I realized I was interested. I needed to build a life I could be proud of, have something worth a damn.”
Something to offer you, a way to take care of you, like a good man would, like your dad did for your mom and your grandpa for your grandma.
The deflated expression on her face has me wanting to set her on the pedestal she deserves, all so I can drop to my knees before her and beg her to stay, but Davis never ceases to amaze me.
She draws me closer. Her hands come up, pressing into my cheeks as she stares into my eyes. “I hate you felt like you had to hide such an accomplishment from me, but I am so proud of you, Crew.” She strokes my lips with her thumb. “So proud,” she whispers, tears brimming her brown eyes.
It only takes a moment for her to realize what I thought the revelation would lead to, considering it was a valid fear. I don’t have many things I fear, and all are wrapped around the woman in front of me.
“Baby,” she breathes. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”
My forehead falls to hers, her words her way of telling me, no matter the situation, she’s choosing me for me.
One hand slides up her back, the other easing into her hair, drawing her lips to mine. “The only way I would ever leave you is if you told me to go.” I close my eyes, pressing my mouth to hers. “But not before I put up one hell of a fight to stay.”
She sighs into my mouth, and then she claims it as her own, kissing me until exhaustion sets in and her head falls to my shoulder.
I lift us, lowering back into the bed.
Davis doesn’t stir once, staying in a deep sleep, but I can’t say the same for me.
Her words mean more than I know how to express, and I believe each one spoken, but that’s not what keeps me up the rest of the night.
It’s knowing I have to be back at work tomorrow, haven’t told my best friend what’s going on, and the fact I have to keep Davis away from the place I want her.
It’s the look in Memphis’s eyes tonight, the yellow hue surrounding the irises, and the laugh that left him before he walked back into the room. It’s the fact that that bottle was more than three-fourths full and hidden beneath napkins.
It’s how he wouldn’t let her get too close and the wrap on his stomach.
It’s the chatty fucker outside of the farmers’ market and the “interest” he had in what kind of work I did that required boxes of fresh fruits.
It’s the fact that following that day, a beady-eyed bastard’s been posted in the farthest corner of my bar each night, ordering a beer he doesn’t touch.
This is how it started our freshman year at Avix.
Big fuckers in steel-toe boots—that hurt like a bitch when connecting to the gut—sat in the stands at our games.
Parked in our spots at our dorms and slowly, somehow slipped into our classes, sat right behind us, and literally breathed down our necks.
Because Memphis has little self-control, and when it slips?
We all fucking fall.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Davis
The harsh crash has my eyes flying open, the dark room around me spinning a moment, my limbs locked from being startled awake.
My senses begin to stir, and while time seems to stretch for an eternity, it’s only a split second, the rattle of hinges jarring me upright.
I knew I heard the door.
The blanket falls to my stomach, and I swiftly climb to my feet, snagging my phone off the bedside table to check the time.
It’s nearly three in the morning—I was asleep for no more than an hour, lying awake with worry, waiting for my brother to come back home.
Blasting from my bed, I step out into the hall, alarm freezing me in place as I round the corner. Memphis leans over the counter, his head in his hands, blood dripping down his forearms.
“Oh my god, Memphis!”
I rush forward as his head snaps up and my eyes widen at the gash along his brow. “Holy shit, what happened?!” I’m in front of him in an instant. “Are you okay?”
“We flipped. Rolled down into an empty canal.” He coughs.
Confusion whirls in my mind, and I follow his gaze when it lifts over my head, my spine shooting straight at the sight.
Red rimmed and shifty, dark eyes narrow on mine, and my breath lodges in my throat as I stare at the stranger in my house.
The man is tall, broad, and also bleeding. The dingy white shirt under his leather vest is streaked with dirt and deep crimson, but it’s shards of glass sticking out of his arm that makes him look far scarier. I’m not even sure if he knows they’re there.