Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
He squeezes his hands into fists then releases. “Big things are happening for her. I’m damn proud of everything she’s accomplished, so yeah, I hate that some fuckwad losers get in her head. But she’s taking the right steps to deal with it. I’m trying to support her the best way I can.” His expression relaxes. “You’re right, though. I’m not thrilled she’s down in the city without me, but I talked to her last night and she sounded happy.”
“Good. When you’re ready to track down some of these assholes and fuck them up, let me know.”
“Who says I haven’t?” He flashes a savage grin. “I can do a lot of damage without even being in the same state as these little trolls.”
“There’s the ruthless Rooster I know.” I slap his arm.
“So, where’ve you been?” Rooster arches a brow. “I sent you a couple texts last night.”
Guilt presses tight against my chest. I turned my phone off yesterday and haven’t even bothered to check it yet today. Something about cutting myself off from the world seemed very freeing.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table. “I think it’s dead. Can I borrow your charger?”
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the counter where he keeps a charging station. It’s probably not dead but it felt like a good excuse to avoid explaining my absence. I plug it in and turn it on.
The screen lights up with several notifications. A bunch from Rooster, which I ignore since I’m standing right here in his kitchen talking to him.
Princess PITA: Look!
A picture of Jezzie throwing a wobbly-looking disk of dough in the air follows. Sent yesterday. I type a quick reply.
Me: Good job.
How the hell am I going to tell her about Cain? Maybe I should wait until she’s finished with this semester.
Z: All good?
I shoot off a quick yes. The rest is noise—group chats I can barely keep up with even when I’m home. I skim, don’t respond.
Margot hasn’t sent me anything else since my last short, cold response.
Can’t blame her.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I don’t even know what to say.
“Why’s Shelby asking me where you are?” Rooster sets his phone on the table with a noisy clunk.
I return to my seat and flash an obnoxious grin. “Probably because our little songbird was vibrating with the universe and knew we were together talking about her?”
He glares. “No. Margot texted her. Asked if I knew where you were.”
My insides seize. “She did?”
“So, if you weren’t at Margot’s…” He narrows his eyes. “Where have you been?”
Great, he thinks I was out cheating on Margot. “Not where you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
I blow out a breath and rub my hands over my face. “I went for a ride up to Maine.”
Rooster’s brow creases. “Maine? Why?” He leans over and lightly punches my arm. “Why didn’t you ask me to go with you?”
I shrug and lean back in my chair. “Needed to clear my head.”
His expression morphs into something more sympathetic. “You and Margot have a fight or something?”
“No. Fuck no.”
He waits, knowing there’s more. He’ll find out eventually. And I’ll have to tell Margot and the club. So I might as well get used to saying it. “Z called me the other night.” I sit up and clear my throat. “My half-brother, Cain, remember him?”
He holds out his hand about three feet above the floor. “The little freckle-faced kid I met when—”
“Yeah,” I answer quickly, not wanting to get swallowed up by those memories again. “Only he’s not a little kid anymore. He showed up at Crystal Ball looking for me.”
Rooster sits back and blinks. Huh. Look at that. He’s too stunned to speak.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” he finally grumbles. “You let me ramble about Shelby’s trip to the city instead of telling me that your half-brother showed up out of nowhere?”
“Uh, I don’t consider that rambling. Believe it or not, I actually give a shit about what’s going on with you two.”
His jaw tightens. “Same, brother.”
I’m out of excuses, so I shrug. “Maybe I wanted you to take my mind off of it.”
“What? The ride to Maine didn’t clear your head?”
“Not really.”
“Well, continue.” He exhales, ready to listen. “What’s Cain want?”
“Not sure.” I shake my head. “Family? His mom just passed away and she wanted him to find me.”
“Shit. Poor kid.”
I shoot him a sharp look, hating that he’s got more compassion for Cain than I seem to have. “Yeaaah,” I answer slow. “I’m not sure if I trust him, though.”
“Don’t blame you.” There’s no judgment to his tone at least. “How’d he even find you?”
I roll my eyes and grab my coffee mug, taking a quick sip before I solve that mystery for him. “You’ll love this. Ruth—his mom—was apparently a big Shelby Morgan fan. She saw a pic of you and Shelby tongue-fucking each other backstage in some magazine. Unfortunately, my ugly mug was in the background staring right at the camera. She recognized me.”