Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
The drive is short, and I find both her old car and the one she thinks is a rental parked in the driveway. It’s still a couple hours before Alex is due home, and I get the feeling convincing her to come with me is going to take every second of that.
I knock on the door and it goes unanswered like it did the last time. I knock harder because she wasn’t very impressed with my lock picking—a skill I sadly picked up long before it was needed working for Blackbridge.
When she finally answers the door, she looks sexy as hell. Her blond hair is all over the place, cheeks pink from exertion. If I were the asshole I used to be, I’d use sex as a weapon to convince her to move, and I’d make sure she enjoyed every damn second of it.
“Hey,” I say instead, my fingers tucked into the pockets of my jeans to keep from reaching out to her.
“I don’t have time for you right now,” she snaps, turning away and going back into the living room.
Half-full boxes are scattered everywhere. There are no longer pictures hanging on the walls. From the looks of it, they’ve been wrapped in newspaper and piled on the kitchen table.
“What’s going on?”
“Didn’t you hear? The house sold, and we have thirty days to vacate. If we don’t, we’ll probably end up with the roof on our heads because the asshole that bought the place is going to tear it down.”
Her voice is rough like she’s been screaming or crying or both.
I hide my grin. I’m not happy that she’s this upset, but knowing she isn’t impressed with Brooks calms me a little. He’s so damn charming I’m surprised he wasn’t able to convince her that leveling the place is best for everyone.
“Where do you plan to go?”
She doesn’t even pause to consider the question. “I don’t have a fucking clue, Ignacio. All I know is we can’t stay here. My asshole brother made sure of that.”
“Come to St. Louis.”
Jesus, did I just blurt it out like that? Instead of handling this situation with finesse, I just drop it at her frustrated feet.
I already know the answer I’m going to get from the glare on her pretty face before she opens her mouth to deny me.
“I want to help you,” I add, but that doesn’t seem to help either because her lips draw up into a sneer. “Alex wants to go.”
Jesus, Ig, shut your fucking mouth.
“Alex?” she asks calmly, taking a step closer to me.
My eyes drop to the heavy book in her hand, calculating her ability to knock me out with it.
“You fucking asked him already?”
“I didn’t. I’m asking—”
“You’re trying to turn him against me. Is that the angle this time around? Not only do you use me sexually, but you also intend to turn the only person I have left against me? You and your perfect life and expensive clothes? Your expensive truck and money and gifts? You’re trying to convince him that I can’t take care of him?”
“Goddamn, Tin. There’s a lot to unpack right there.” I scrape my hands over the top of my head unsure of where I should even start. “I’m not here to take him from you.”
Her fingers grip the book harder, her knuckles turning white.
“I want both of you to come back to St. Louis.”
She continues to glare at me, so pissed her eyes are misting up. She’s always hated that tears are her body’s response to anger and frustration. She’s always seen it as looking weak, and it always makes her double down.
“Both?” She snaps the word like it’s an insult to even suggest.
“Look. Fuck.” I take a step forward and she moves back two. “I fucking love you, Tin. I always ha—”
“Fuck you!” she roars. “This isn’t love. This is another manipulation. I thought you’d grown the fuck up, but here we are, you trying to turn Alex against me. What’s the plan, huh? Get me to St. Louis so it can be easier to take a child from his mother than here in Texas.”
God, I never even considered some shit like that. I want them together, with me. I don’t want fucking every other weekend and alternating holidays.
“I never stopped loving you. Pushing you away back then was for your own good, not because I wanted you gone.”
“My own good,” she huffs. She slaps the book on the coffee table, but even as the sound echoes around us like a gunshot, I don’t pull my eyes from her. “Look around! Does this look like good to you?”
“Tin, I—” She shoves me then, two tiny hands against my hard chest, and I let her move me. Taking three steps back she doesn’t stop shoving until I’m close to the front door. “Please, just listen to me.”