Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Instead of getting warm and melty at his tone and the look in his eyes, I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Ugggh, that’s so embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” Colby’s eyes turned stormy.
“Yeah,” I said. “The whole club of badasses knows that you’ve been running around, chasing me because I can’t handle my shit.”
“That’s stopping right now.” Colby twisted to grab the back of my neck. He was able to do this because he was a ‘same side of the booth’ guy. “Every man in that club saw you that day.”
I grimaced at the thought of it.
Colby’s gaze didn’t falter, gripping me harder. “When I tell you men in our club have been through shit, I mean it. We don’t shock or scare easily. When I’m telling you that every single man in that club is changed from seein’ you, I’m not lying. And before you act like that’s a bad thing, you let me finish.”
My insides cramped and my mouth went dry. I was desperate to argue with him, to run. But I didn’t. I let him hold me like that, waiting for him to continue.
“It changed us, seeing you,” he murmured. “The aftereffects. We were all spared the fucking horror of having to endure what you did. And still, it fucked-up even the most hardened of brothers. Yet you’re here. Breathing. Joking. Teasing. You’re here, changed, but you’re still fucking you. That’s not something to be embarrassed about. That’s something to be fucking proud of.”
I struggled to fight the tears that were trying to force their way forward. Even if I was going to let myself cry, it certainly couldn’t happen in some hip café full of girls taking photos of their food.
“You need to go easy on me,” my voice shook. “There are only so many intense things you can say in a short period of time. Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of jumpy. I don’t want to run again, but if this keeps going…”
I trailed off, hearing the words coming out of my mouth.
“That sounds a lot like a threat,” I cleared my throat, brave enough to meet his espresso eyes. “It’s not, I promise. I don’t want to run, but…”
I trailed off again, not ready to cut myself open, especially here where the bright lights would illuminate my tarnished insides.
“I know,” Colby said faintly as he stroked my jaw. “We’ll pause on the intense talks for now. How about a little fun?”
I searched his face. “Fun?”
His eyes twinkled. “Yeah, I think we’re both overdue for a bit of that.”
“You plannin’ on staying on the road forever?” Colby asked conversationally as we tucked into our dinner.
We’d spent the day as tourists, wandering around the charming main street, going into kitschy stores, not bringing up anything serious. I knew it was simmering under the surface, though.
“I don’t really have plans,” I picked at my fries.
I’d dropped out of school, given up my room in Providence, canceled all plans. Though I had kept paying for my apartment in Garnett. My bank accountant remained healthy thanks to a few smart investments and because my expenses had been slashed by 90 percent since I no longer indulged in designer clothes, shoes, purses or any of my costly beauty maintenance routines.
Colby nodded, taking a bite out of his burger.
There were no follow up questions, no pressure to get me to do anything, say anything.
“I miss them,” I blurted.
Colby looked up at me.
“Violet and Willow.” I closed my eyes for a beat. “I’ve been the worst godmother and best friend.”
“You have not,” Colby pointed a French fry at me. “You’re not gonna pile guilt on top of all the shit you’re feeling.”
I laughed without humor. “Of course, I am. It’s threaded into all of it.”
I abandoned my fries and emptied my beer, lifting it to the waitress, signaling for another. What I really wanted was three shots of tequila, but Colby had already been subject to my hard drinking ways. That had been embarrassing enough.
Colby didn’t seem to cast judgment over my rapid consumption of beer. He continued lazily eating his burger, waiting to see what came out of my mouth next.
“I love horror movies,” I sighed. “At least I used to.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek, thinking of how I’d talked myself into watching one a few months ago, deciding I’d let fear rule my life way too long. I’d managed less than thirty minutes before I turned it off, curled into a ball, clutching a bottle of whisky the rest of the night.
“Fuck, I don’t even know if the love for them was organic or born because my parents forbade them, letting me know they were a direct invitation to let the devil into your home.” I used to roll my eyes at that, but now I couldn’t dismiss them quite so easily.