Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Nothing I ever do is good enough. I keep telling myself this is it, this is when he’ll see me and thank me for what I do for my family. Shouldn’t I know better by now?”
Sitting here in this bar, surrounded by celebrating people, I’m both sad and angry. Fuck Roman. How dare he die? Then I remember the threat. My bedroom. How horrible he treated me. Part of me wants to call Kade and tell him I’m sorry about his father, even if he doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
“Excuse me,” I tell Buck, half running and half walking out the door.
I pull my phone from my pocket and consider the screen.
Do I call him? We haven’t talked since that night.
He probably wouldn’t even answer if I did call him. I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out what to do. Yeah, he’s been a dick, and I’m still pissed off at him for what he did to me in my bedroom, but… I’m not heartless. I make the decision before I can stop myself and hit the green call button on his contact. Lifting the phone to my ear, my heart stutters in my chest, the sound nearly drowning out the ringing on the other end.
It rings, and rings, and rings before switching to voicemail. The adrenaline washes through me on a wave of disappointment.
I mean, why would he answer, right?
“I just heard about your dad,” I babble breathlessly to his voicemail, staring up at the sky that holds just as many stars as it did that night he opened up to me. My voice is shaking. None of this feels real. “I wanted to see if you’re all right. Do you need anything? Please, just shoot me a text, okay?” I end the message before I embarrass myself more.
He can’t punish me via voicemail, can he?
“Miss Allie?” Buck’s voice behind me makes me jump.
“I didn’t hear you come out,” I gasp, clutching my chest.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. I just wanted to make sure you were good before I go.” He jerks a thumb toward the door, scowling. “They’re partying like idiots in there. Personally, I think it’s a little tacky to celebrate someone’s death, but to each their own.”
“I agree.” I mean, I’ve never liked the guy, and I sure as hell won’t miss him, but I won’t throw a party because he’s dead.
“Do you need a ride home?”
“No. I drove.” I give him another hug and breathe in his familiar scent of tobacco and horses. It might be stupid, but he smells like my childhood, like safety. “It was really nice to see you tonight. I can’t even put into words how much I needed to see a friend.”
“Me, too.” He pats my back with one calloused hand, then walks me to my car before plopping the hat on his head and tipping the brim at me.
The familiar gesture makes me smile.
As I drive home, I spot his beat-up old Ford following me, making sure I get home safe. That makes my smile grow. At least someone gives a shit about me.
Chapter 9
Kade
Six days since I killed the son of a bitch who raised me.
Six days and it’s hard to believe the world is still turning. That I open my eyes when I wake up and everything is the way it was when I fell asleep. Not that I’m sleeping well. But eventually, your body has to shut down whether you want it to or not.
It would be fine if my dreams weren’t a replay of those last few minutes in the dining room. The hard and cold and determined look in his eyes haunts me.
He was going to shoot Calder and Saint. He wanted to blow our family even further apart. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Sometimes the dreams are worse, though. Last night, Roman was lying dead on the floor until he wasn’t. He sat up, blood dripping from his mouth, pooling on the floor. And this time, he aimed his gun at me. I pulled the trigger once, twice, but then the gun jammed.
So no, I’m not really trying to sleep. Well, or otherwise.
I drag my hands down my face. I need to pull myself together, but I can’t. So many emotions and feelings are tingling beneath my skin.
How do I get them out?
The sudden buzz of my phone interrupts my thoughts. It’s somewhere on the bed, where I dropped it once I finally closed my eyes. By the time I untangle it from the sheets, I wish I hadn’t bothered. I roll my eyes and tighten my grip on the phone. It’s just another text from Emma Porter. She’s been texting me daily since the news broke about Roman’s death. I haven’t left the house, so I don’t know the extent of what’s been said or even what Sawyer released to the press. I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. My brothers are managing well, acting as if nothing happened, while I spiral out of control.