Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I had no voice, not for a second.
He had noticed me.
There was this sadness flooding me, but that didn’t make sense. I couldn’t understand that either, but I choked out, “I developed a way of thinking and talking that overrode what my senses were telling me. I got so overwhelmed by them, that it was a reverse way of handling the world. Or that’s what the psychologists told me, but they told me I was crazy.”
“They used that word?”
“It’s a word and it’s mine to use, about me. No one else can use it about me. It’s my word to own.” Another nod. Another knot in my throat. “One did. A couple did. And nurses. A counselor. I’ve had a lot of counselors.”
He let out another deep pocket of air, his hand moving to cup the back of my head. “I’m sorry.”
I looked up, meeting and holding his gaze, and for one heartbeat, we were one. Just one. He got me.
His eyes darkened.
I couldn’t help myself. I whispered, “Please don’t love me and then throw me away.” I couldn’t look at him when I said that.
He didn’t answer.
I shouldn’t have said that.
Why did I do these things? Say these things? Always at the wrong time.
I was always so inappropriate.
I couldn’t read the room.
That meant I couldn’t even read him right, and I was sitting on his lap.
My stress was rising.
My panic.
The air was stifling me, pressing down, and I could smell everything.
I could feel everything.
I was noticing everything.
Oh God.
Why wasn’t he answering?
I was frozen, still on his lap, and there was just silence from him.
“Cheyenne,” he whispered.
I felt him now. He was moving, but he was getting closer.
I looked up, and he was right there. My nose brushed against his and his hand moved to touch the side of my face. He whispered back, “Never.”
* * *
I was still in bed an hour later when his phone buzzed.
“Can you grab that for me?” Cut called from the shower.
Unknown number: I’m bored af. Coming back. I’ll make things right. I promise.
“Who’s it from?”
My tongue was so heavy in my mouth, but I looked over. I blinked a few times, barely noticing how he had water dripping down his body and he was holding a towel only in front of his dick. And I could usually obsess over his dick, so my shock was saying a lot here.
“Nut-Brother.”
A wall slammed down over his face.
I swallowed over a boulder inside. “He’s coming back.”
He swore under his breath but went back in the bathroom.
46
Cheyenne
I met Otis, JJ, and Maisie at The Way Station to watch Cut’s away game. Melanie joined us, and she became fast friends with all of them, so she worked her magic and my seat companions joined us going to Tits afterwards. Cut’s team won, which I knew that would’ve made him happy.
He was planning on seeing his family since their away game wasn’t too far from where we grew up.
I sent him a couple texts congratulating him and then asking him how the family was doing.
He didn’t reply right away so I tucked my phone away when we got to Tits.
Otis was bouncing off the wall. “I can’t believe you guys hang out here—” His words choked on themselves when he saw Sasha walking toward us.
It looked straight out of a movie.
Her hair was low, and long, so she must’ve added extensions. It touched the tops of her thighs, and she was wearing a black leather bodysuit.
Melanie and I shared a look.
Sasha was in her ‘secret agent’ mood.
Chad must’ve reached out. I had shared with both that he was coming back, but word’s been quiet on The Chad front. I had zero expectations he would reach out to me, but he cared about Sasha and Cut. I wasn’t surprised at seeing the secret agent back in place.
She came over, grunting her one-word answers, and we all morphed into our usual personalities. I was using ‘dude’ and ‘rad’ and ‘rightio’ every third sentence. Melanie was ‘fuck’ this and ‘fuck’ that, and lots of references to shitting.
Otis, JJ, and Maisie loved it. All of it.
Maisie was whispering, “Awesome,” under her breath when one of the bouncers brought over her drink. She couldn’t get over that, but there were enough guys milling around for security, so whoever was free brought Sasha’s drinks over. Sasha’s and her guests’. That was usually the guys, so it made sense to us. And they wanted to hear about Cut, but I had put them off at the bar, saying there were too many prying ears. And there had been. That same server from before had been there, so I just used her as an excuse, then apologized to her later by giving her an extra tip. She had no clue it was for throwing her under the bus, but my soul knew. My soul needed to make it right.