Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
It’s the closest we’ve come to honesty in years. I take a sip of my coffee, buying time to find the right words.
“Briar’s different,” I eventually say.
“She is.” He pushes off from the counter, coming around to sit on one of the stools. “She’s... fuck, I don’t know. She makes things make sense.”
“Even with everything that happened? With Liam?”
“Maybe because of it.” He breaks off a piece of muffin, rolling it between his fingers like I did. “We’re all carrying the same weight now.”
I nod, understanding what he means. The three of us are bound by blood and secrets, yes, but there’s something else, too. Something deeper, harder to explain.
“So what do we do?” I ask.
“About Briar?”
“About us.” I gesture between us. “This thing between us. It doesn’t just go away because there’s a third person involved now.”
Flint looks at me for a long moment, something complicated moving behind his eyes. “No,” he says. “It doesn’t.”
“So we figure it out.”
“How? We’ve been trying to figure it out for years, and look where that got us.”
“This time, it’s different.” I move closer to him, aware of the air shifting in the room as I do. “This time, we have someone keeping us honest.”
“Briar.” He says her name like it’s something precious.
“Yeah.” I reach out, hesitant, my hand hovering near his before finally covering it. “And maybe this time, we don’t try to kill each other when shit gets hard.”
He looks down at our hands, his fingers slowly turning to intertwine with mine. “No promises.”
“Fair enough.” I smile slightly. “But we try.”
He nods, and for a moment, we’re simply two people holding hands, all the history between us still there but somehow lighter.
“So,” he says after a while, “this date.”
“Any ideas?”
“Not the kind she’s looking for.” His mouth quirks up at one corner.
“Flint.”
“What? I’m serious. My date ideas usually involve motorcycles, booze, and bad decisions.”
“Basically your entire lifestyle.”
“Fuck you.” But there’s no heat in it. He’s almost smiling now.
“Maybe the old cemetery,” I suggest. “It’s normal enough but still us.”
“A graveyard? That’s your idea of a normal date?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Jesus, we really are fucked up.”
I draw a deep breath, feeling lighter now, as if I came and got the answer I was hoping for.
“Okay… So we’re really doing this? All of us together?” he asks, as if reading my mind, which frankly, the man has an uncanny way of doing.
“Looks like it.”
“Without killing each other?”
“We’ll try.” I shrug. “One day at a time, right?”
“One fucked-up day at a time,” he agrees.
I glance at the clock. “I should go. Got deliveries to make for the Heathens party.”
Flint tenses slightly at the mention of the party. “Viktor will be there.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
“He’s still looking, Damiano. Still asking questions.”
“Let him.” I stand up, grabbing my jacket from where I tossed it on the couch. “He won’t find anything.”
Chapter 26
Briar
The old cemetery isn’t exactly what I expected when I suggested the three of us go on a date. Like a normal couple... or whatever the fuck we are.
Warm light and tourists with selfie sticks make it less the haunted island of forgotten souls and more a quaint village of the dead. Not that it matters. The three of us somehow keep our distance from the crowds, finding narrow paths and tangled trees until it truly feels like we’re alone.
I guess we are, in a way.
“He’s smiling,” I say, watching Flint up ahead, boots crunching against gravel.
Damiano laughs, squeezing my hand. “I know. It can’t be real.”
Flint turns back, walking backward for a moment, his grin widening. “You two coming, or what?”
Damiano releases my hand and drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer as we catch up to Flint. The path curves around a series of small mausoleums, ornate and crumbling, moss growing over names and dates long worn away.
“Imagine spending all eternity here.” Flint stops to peer into one through a rusted iron gate.
We pass the mausoleums and head deeper into the graveyard. A canopy of twisted branches and Spanish moss shadows us from the sun. Back at the entrance, some enterprising soul had set up a booth selling snacks and cold drinks. It’s good business, considering the heat.
Now Flint reaches into his jacket to pull out a bottle of lemonade, taking a long drink before handing it to me.
“Some date,” I tease, taking a sip. It’s sticky sweet, and the tartness makes my eyes water. “Lemonade and dead people.”
The three of us sharing a bottle seems like the most intimate thing in the world.
“Best one ever,” Flint says. He’s serious, I think. “Damiano loves graveyards and dead things.”
It’s Damiano’s turn to take a drink. “You know me so well.” Our voices have gone quiet. “But maybe we should have done some fancy dinner and a movie for Briar’s sake.”