Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
I drag a heavy breath of my own as I remember it.
I’ve known the guy almost all his life; I can read him like a book. And back there, he was gearing up to punish her too. And it was going to involve this random girl who hadn’t stopped staring at him ever since we’d arrived.
Very middle school-ish but effective.
If you want to hurt the girl who’s hurt you.
“Is that why you dragged me out of there?” he asks. “Because I was going to punish her.”
“I dragged you out of there because you’re not yourself,” I reply, “not anymore.”
“A little too worried about her,” he sneers, “aren’t you?”
I clench my teeth harder at his words, almost giving in and looking away from him.
But somehow I find enough strength to hold on.
To not rob him of this chance to take a stab at me.
“It’s okay, she’s a big girl. She could’ve handled it. And if not, I’m sure you would’ve been there. To lick her wounds and make it all better for her. She likes that, by the way. Licking. Not that I have to tell you, but still.” Then, scoffing, “Although it’s been two years now so fuck knows what else she likes.”
Rage, red hot and flaming, flows through my veins.
I’m used to it. I’m used to feeling angry and hateful and bitter but for the first time in the last two years, this rage is directed toward my best friend.
“You really need to stop,” I growl again, my words sounding low and rough.
“What, you don’t think she’s picked up new tricks along the way?”
My fists are so tight that my knuckles have their own heartbeat.
“Just a word of advice, brother” — he says brother like it’s a dirty word — “if she can do it to me, the guy she claimed to fucking love, she could do it to you too. So I wouldn’t waste my breath on her.”
“Stop. Talking.”
I barely recognize my own voice now, my words slurring together. But he has no trouble understanding me.
“Or what?”
Or I’ll punch you in the face.
I’ll break your nose.
Knock all your teeth out.
Rip your tongue out and shred it.
Rip your fucking lungs out of your throat so you never, not ever, say one thing against her.
I don’t say it though.
I don’t do anything either.
I simply stand there, vibrating with rage. With violence.
A long sigh escapes Lucas and he steps back. “Go home. What I do with my life, who I punish, is none of your goddamn business, all right? Just leave.”
He turns around and starts to walk away.
“It was a kiss,” I find myself saying to his back.
He pauses and twists back to look at me.
“That I started,” I continue, even though he already knows; I told him two years ago, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to save our friendship but hoping that I could at least save him and her. “I went for it first. And yes, I wanted to kiss her for a long time. That’s on me. But a kiss doesn’t erase years of loyalty. Her loyalty. To you. It doesn’t erase or change how she felt about you. How much she loved you. So you wanna be angry at me for the rest of your life, it’s your call. But it’s time you forgave her.”
And until he does, I’m not letting her get anywhere near him. I’m going to be the fucking gatekeeper if I have to be but I’m not letting my best friend hurt her with what he’s become.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Bandit
I see him as soon as I pull in to the gym parking lot.
The lighting is fucked up but there’s no mistaking him. He sticks out like a fucking weirdo in his three-piece suit, his tie that still doesn’t look loosened at two o’clock in the morning, and his hair that’s so fucking polished that it looks wet. Not to mention his Bentley among the junkyard of rusted trucks and secondhand cars, which he’s leaning against.
He might as well be wearing a sign that says, ‘Hey, I’m loaded. Muggers welcome.’
What the fuck is he thinking?
This isn’t the part of Bardstown that he usually frequents. I didn’t even think he knew about this place.
Yo Mama’s So Fit — that’s actually the name of the gym — isn’t exactly a high-end establishment. It’s mostly frequented by people with rage issues, who need a place to smash things and not get constantly arrested for it.
But apparently he did know, and now I have to have the confrontation that I’ve been avoiding ever since I came back.
Fuck.
His eyes land on me as soon as I get off my bike, a Harley Davidson that I saved my fucking ass off for. He straightens up when I start walking toward him.
My big fucking brother.
“What happened to your face?” he asks as soon as I stop, eyeing my jaw where Lucas took a shot at me only an hour ago.