Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
When my mom had taken out all the loans in my and Aella’s names, she’d ruined our credit to the point that even seven years wouldn’t clear the history from our names.
I’d had to scrape together cash from a summertime job, and save for years, before I was able to outright buy my car.
Lucky for me, my grandfather was a mechanic, and he’d taught me how to keep the ol’ girl running.
Unlucky for me, those times were few and far between because my dad hated his dad, and I only got to see Grampa when Dad had done his disappearing act for a couple of weeks—he did that a lot over the years.
Not that it bothered me.
It actually kind of worked in my favor because then my grandma and grandpa would get me. They’d also been willing to take Aella, too, and had done so a lot and treated her like their own. At least until Dad got back, found out, and threw a fit.
Dad hated Aella because Mom threw a fucking fit when Dad didn’t take both Aella and me for the weekend. She even went to court, and a judge saw fit to force Dad to take her.
I loved having Aella there. It meant that I didn’t have to suffer alone.
But over the years, I finally saw that for the selfish act that it was, and didn’t complain when she was old enough to stay home and make her own decisions not to go.
By the time we were thirteen, she’d stopped coming along with me, and I started suffering in silence.
I didn’t want her to know how awful it was when I went to my dad’s.
If she knew, then she’d come with me again, and I didn’t want her to have to suffer, too.
By then, I’d made the decision to put on a smiling face whether I was happy or not, and I’d kept that persona since I was thirteen and hated the world.
The door to the tow truck opened again and something was shoved back under the seat before Webber got back into the vehicle.
“Ready?” he asked.
I blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I guess that’s a good question,” he murmured as he buckled himself in. “Buckle your seat belt.”
Three
Feral.
—Text from Webber to Silver
WEBBER
The drive back to the shop was done in silence—except for Silver’s constant stream of songs.
She was overly quiet, and I was on the verge of asking why when we pulled into the shop’s large parking area.
I parked the truck where it belonged, and shook my head at where Silver had parked her piece of shit Grand Am.
Right in the middle of the forecourt.
Sideways.
Lips twitching despite telling myself to get it under control, I got out and slammed the truck door closed.
I had to fight my manners to go get her door for her but eventually did anyway because she didn’t get out right away.
I opened her door to see her sitting up straight, face flushed.
“What are you doing?” I asked as she came back up straight in her seat.
“Dropped my phone underneath your seat,” she said. “Had to go digging.”
“Oh,” I said as I took in her bare legs.
I must’ve caught her leaving work.
She was in tight jean shorts, a black sweatshirt despite it being eighty degrees and muggy as fuck, and red high-top Nike Dunks.
I only knew what Nike Dunks were because Eedie had gone crazy over Silver’s shoes once.
That day that Eedie had gone crazy I’d learned that Silver had won them in a shoe raffle off of Nike because she’d entered every day for a year and won.
“Still wearing your winning shoes, I see,” I murmured.
“These are really all I have to wear. I have one more pair that are really ratty, but I don’t wear them often,” she admitted.
I frowned. “What?”
“Old habits,” she murmured. “I don’t get new shoes until the old ones wear out.”
That had my jaw clenching and pissing me off.
Silver and Aella’s mother was a piece of shit that had stolen everything from them but their actual lives.
And apparently Silver’s dad wasn’t any better.
“Huh,” I grunted. “Are you getting out?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But catch me because this is a long jump and I think I pulled a muscle getting in and out earlier.”
Before I could comprehend her words, she threw herself at me.
On instinct, I caught her around the waist and held her slightly aloft for a few long moments before I placed her on the ground.
“Thanks,” she said as she turned her back on me and gave me the best view in the world.
Her ass in those jean shorts.
Wranglers.
They were high, hugged every curve she had, and were so worn out that they fit her perfectly.
Her sweatshirt was bunched up high around her waist from where I’d caught her, and she didn’t pull it down until she was almost to her car.