Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“You can stay with us,” Rooster adds.
Her eyes light up. “With you and Shelby?” She squees. “I still can’t believe you’re engaged to Shelby Morgan.”
Rooster chuckles. “You and me both.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe anyone wants to marry his homely, bearded face, either.” I shrug. “It really is true love.” I cock my head. “Since when do you listen to country music, anyway?”
“Shelby’s more than country music. She’s a lyrical genius.” She slaps my arm and grins. “I still can’t believe you’ve been out on tour with her and Dawson Roads. I wish you’d let me ride along.”
“Maybe next summer,” Rooster says.
I had a different answer in mind.
“You sure you’d let me around all your MC brothers?” Jezzie flashes a wicked smirk at me.
Joke’s on her. If she’s going to date anyone, I would rather have her with a brother. I just can’t think of one who’s single and close enough to her age who I’d trust with my little sister. Jezebel’s grown into such a contrary little pain in my ass, though. If I tell her I want her to date a Lost King, she’ll be engaged to a fucking FBI agent or worse in no time.
“Yeah, they’ll all know to keep their hands off you.” That’s sure to piss her off.
“Ugh.”
There’s a buzzing, and Rooster pulls his phone out of his pocket. He taps my arm and I nod.
“Biker business?” Jezzie asks with a hint of teasing.
“Something like that,” Rooster says.
I hate leaving her this soon after she just moved into somewhere new.
“I’ll be fine.” She nods to the stack of boxes. “I’m looking forward to organizing all my books. And tomorrow I’m supposed to meet up with the girl I know who’s in my program.”
“Good.”
“The guys for the truck are here,” Rooster says. “I’m going to go meet them and check it over one more time.”
“I got everything,” Jezzie says. “I think.”
“I’ll check. No worries.” Rooster pats her shoulder and walks out.
Once he’s gone, Jezzie turns to me with a more serious expression. “I’ll call Aunt Andrea later and let her know I’m all settled in.”
“Good. She doing all right?” She’s the only other member of our family either of us have had contact with in years. Since she extracted herself from our father’s insane religious beliefs before he formed his fucked-up cult, she was the only person I trusted to raise Jezzie after I got her away from our father. She doesn’t necessarily approve of me, so we keep our relationship minimal contact. But she was good to Jezzie and that’s all I care about.
Rooster returns a few minutes later. “All done.”
Jezzie hugs me again. Then Rooster.
Then we head out.
“All good?” Rooster asks as we exit the apartment building.
“I think so.” I glance back at the tall, brick building. “Seems safe.”
He stops at his bike, helmet in hand, and looks at me. “You two seem better. Like you’re mending things. Being closer will be good.”
Not in the mood to talk about it, I straddle my bike and grip the handlebars. “Yeah, I hope so.”
The only way to mend our relationship is to let go of the guilt and pain of our past and start over. And I haven’t figured out how to do that yet.
CHAPTER THREE
Margot
Heavy, lily-scented air freshener, accompanied by a slight undercurrent of vinegar, lingers in the air of my family’s funeral home. Soft classical music hums from the speakers, maintaining the solemn, respectful atmosphere that’s surrounded me since childhood.
My low heels snag on the worn hallway carpet. I stop outside the consultation room, take a long, slow breath, and smooth my dress over my hips. Quickly, I check the pins holding my hair back and nudge my glasses into place.
I can do this. He can’t hurt me.
It’s my job to help people through the worst time in their life. Sometimes, I take things too personally, absorb our clients’ grief. Not today. I’m guarding my heart and mind.
I press my palm to the heavy oak door and push.
“Margot, just in time.” My father stands from behind his desk and greets me.
Across from him, our client turns and smiles at me.
Daniel.
My ex.
He’s not here to win me back.
I wouldn’t take him back if he begged on all fours.
“You’re as exciting in bed as a corpse.”
Three years later and the final insult he hurled my way still haunts me. His tone so cold and unfeeling. The man I thought I loved was repulsed by me. I left my engagement ring on his kitchen counter and walked out. We’ve only run into each other a few times since that day. I was too embarrassed to even look at him.
I wasn’t good enough to be Daniel’s wife. But he trusts my family to arrange his grandmother’s funeral. Splendid. It’s my job to comfort people and handle all the small details, so all they have to worry about is mourning their loved one. I can do this.