Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong?” Lou asked, moving toward me. “You’re white as a ghost.”
“Nothin’,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Bullshit.” She scowled, her gaze roaming over my face.
“Really,” I said, reaching out to pull her into a hug. “Everything is fine.”
“Who was that on the phone?” she pressed, tipping her head back to look at me.
“Damn, woman, can I have any privacy?”
“Oh, you want privacy now, huh?” she argued as I let her go. “Mr. I’m-going-to-follow-you-at-a-distance-so-you-won’t-realize-I’m-watching-your-date.”
“That happened one fucking time two years ago,” I reminded her. “And you tore me a new one.”
“Which you deserved for acting like a psychopath,” she said simply as she helped me take the rest of the groceries out of the bags.
“I knew that guy was a creep. You’re lucky I was there.”
“The ends do not justify the means,” she said, shaking her head. “Which I also explained thoroughly back then.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The banter was as easy as breathing, that’s what happened when you knew someone so well—but my mind was in a completely different city. In a different time.
“You sure everything is okay?” Lou asked, tipping her head to the side. “You can talk to me, you know?”
“Really?” I replied, a little mocking. “Because I wasn’t really sure if we were there yet.”
Lou rolled her eyes. “Fine, but the offer is on the table.”
“Thanks, Lou.”
“Do you think I should put those in the fridge until people start getting here?” she mused, leaving the conversation alone. “I probably should.”
“I need to run out to my bike real quick,” I said as she turned toward the refrigerator.
It felt like I was walking through ankle-deep mud as I left the house and strode over to my bike. I didn’t really need anything except to get away from the gaze that saw right through me.
Clenching my jaw, I flexed my hands as they started to tingle. Bernice’s estate. I was a beneficiary to Bernice’s fucking estate. The woman barely had two pennies to rub together, I couldn’t imagine what that estate could entail.
My throat felt tight as I wandered into the yard.
She was dead. Bernice was dead. That’s what it meant if someone was handling her estate. It meant they were getting rid of her shit now that she was gone. They didn’t hand out people’s stuff if they were still alive.
Fuck, my chest felt tight.
Was I having a goddamn heart attack?
A car pulled up behind me, so I walked further into the yard like I was checking out the playset or something instead of just standing there in the rain losing my shit.
A hundred memories rose to the surface like a tidal wave of all the things I’d tried to forget.
“What are you doing out here in the rain?” Titus’s little sister Myla yelled.
Taking a deep breath that felt like I was sucking it through a straw, I turned to face her, hoping that I’d cleared my expression. “Mind your own business,” I joked, the words coming out just slightly less than funny or charming.
“You good, big guy?” she asked as Cian slammed the hatchback and stepped into view.
“I’m fine,” I answered, nodding hello to her man.
If Lou saw right through me, Cian was the one who’d take one look and know exactly what was wrong and why. He had the uncanny ability to read me.
“He’s good,” Cian told Myla, urging her toward the house.
My shoulders relaxed fractionally as I followed them toward the porch.
“You guys get the kegs?” Cian asked as his eyes drifted to Myla’s ass.
Swear to God, she must’ve felt his gaze because her hips started swinging with each step. I looked away in a hurry.
“Yeah, two. Should be enough since there’ll be liquor, too.”
“That better be enough,” Myla said knowingly. “If Brody invites a bunch of randoms, Titus will kill him.”
“I’ll play bouncer,” Cian said as we walked through the house. “Anyone I don’t recognize I’ll kick out.”
“Yeah, right,” Lou called as we reached the kitchen. “You’ll be too busy making googly eyes at Myla once she’s a few drinks in.”
“Everyone loves drunk Myla, what can I say?” Myla joked.
“I like sober Myla better,” I argued.
“That’s a big fat lie, and you know it,” she teased, glaring at me. “Did you get the trays, Lou?”
“Yep, I put them in the fridge…”
The two of them fell into a conversation that I tuned out as Cian set the bags he was carrying on the counter and jerked his head toward the living room.
“You look like someone just sucker punched you,” he said quietly as soon as we were out of earshot. “What’s goin’ on?”
“I’ve been dodgin’ a call from a lawyer—” I reached up to rub the back of my neck.
“Shit, you got a kid?”
“What?” I gaped at him. “No, I don’t have a fuckin’ kid.”
“Sorry, that’s where my mind went when you said lawyer.”
“No, it’s not that. Someone I used to know left me some shit in her will.”