Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
He stilled, even more than he had been.
My head reared back, just an inch, and I took him in. His face was guarded but not surprised. That was all I needed to know.
“Why are you protecting my brother?”
He let out a soft sigh, almost so soft that I didn’t hear it. “He’s someone you love. Can’t we leave it at that?”
My heart flipped over, but damn. Damn! Seriously? He said that?
I was mad at him, but I was starting to forget why I was mad at him, and then I remembered—he made me a criminal.
I moved back, firmly.
When he tried holding me in place, I shoved back even more assertively. “Thank you.”
I spotted the vodka I needed.
“For what?”
I grabbed two bottles and moved around him. “For reminding me why you can’t touch me.”
As I reached for the door, he stepped aside. “Jess.”
I opened the door but gave him a searing look, or I hoped because my insides were a jumbled mess. He did that to me. Every time. Right and wrong, good and bad, he was fucking me up.
“You were hurt.”
“I’ve been hurt before.”
His eyebrows dipped low. “What does that mean?”
“Just . . .” I held a hand up and cursed when I heard my voice break. I couldn’t finish what I needed to say.
My heart wasn’t in it because he was here, and he was worried, and . . .
I left, feeling my heart breaking in a way that I never knew it could.
There were people in the hallway. I ignored them, not looking, and went right back to my section, and for the first real time, I started to consider if this was going to be my last night here.
Justin came over twenty minutes later, during a brief break. “You okay? You look stressed.”
“Yeah.” I’d been on autopilot since seeing Trace, and I even tried to give him a smile. I was faking. I knew it wouldn’t match my eyes, and Justin saw through it, giving my shoulder a soft squeeze before going back to his section. “Hang in there, okay?”
I had no other option, but Anthony made a point of coming to tell me before closing that he wasn’t here anymore, and it was then that I realized how I’d been half holding my breath all night long.
And I realized that I was disappointed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JESS
I had coffee in hand when I walked into my mother’s house the next morning but smelled freshly brewed coffee and almost dropped the two I was carrying.
“Ma?” Was I in someone else’s house?
“Hey, honey.”
Jesus. I almost dropped my coffee again. My mom was on the couch, curled under a blanket, but she had washed her hair recently. It was shining. She was also dressed for the day in normal clothes, like a sweater, and as she stood to greet me, I saw she was in jeans. Tennis shoes. She took one of the coffees and kissed my cheek. “So sweet of you, Jess. You’re a good daughter.”
My mouth was on the floor when she headed for the kitchen.
“You want any breakfast, honey? Leo made pancakes earlier.”
Footsteps sounded above me. The stairs creaked as Leo was coming down, pulling on a sweater. He looked like he’d just showered, too, and he was dressed in jeans. I looked; he also had sneakers on. “Jess!” He came down, opening his arms for a hug.
I hissed as he enveloped me against his chest. “What sorcery have you done? Whose soul did you sell to the devil?”
He froze just for a second before releasing me, stepping back. “Nothing like that.” But he glanced to the kitchen and drew me to the door. “Outside?”
I knew it.
He went first, and as soon as the door was closed behind me, I pointed inside. “Who is that? That’s not my mother.”
“Jess.” He sighed, sitting down on the front-porch swing.
“She called me ‘honey.’ My mom’s not called me ‘honey’ since—” Oh, dear god! “Are you two fucking?”
“What?!” He shoved back up to his feet, the swing hitting against the house behind him. “No! Why are you saying that?”
“Because that’s when she last called me honey. When she was getting laid. When Dad was alive. What is going on? You’re over here all the time lately.”
A resigned expression sobered him. “I’m not actually. You happen to come the very few times I’ve checked on your mom. You know my local hangout is Bear’s Pub. A lot of our friends hang out there. It’s easy for me to come over in between games.”
“Um.” I was in an alternate universe. “It’s eight in the morning. There’s no between games. You made pancakes this morning? How early? I’m early.”
“You have been gone for a long time.” He gentled his tone. “Your mom called me one night, out of the blue. I had nothing to do with it, but she suddenly wanted ‘to get healthy’ again. I have no idea what brought it on. I didn’t ask. I never ask, not with this family. I support and I help. That’s my job, what your dad would’ve wanted me to do, so I agreed. Four mornings a week, I come over, and we walk at six in the morning.”