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’s doing it anyway.
“I’m glad,” I say. “Really. That’s great. I know it’s hard. I… I’m proud of you.”
The words are out before I can stop them. God, I wish I could see his face right now. Gauge his reaction.
He’s quiet for a second. “Nah, you were right.” Another pause. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Everything. Listening to me.” He lets out a short, self-deprecating scoff. “Answering the phone now.”
My throat tightens, but before I can respond, a dozen motorcycle engines roar to life in the background, drowning out everything else.
“Hang on,” he yells. “Let me go in the garage.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say quickly, raising my voice in case he can’t hear me. “I have to finish setting up anyway. And I need to talk to my dad about a few things.”
The background noise fades a little, like he ducked into a quieter spot. “All right. I’ll… I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” I hesitate, wishing I could see his face, reach through the line, touch him. “Be careful.”
“I will.” A breath. “Margot?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The line clicks. Silence wraps around me, thicker than before.
I tuck the phone into my pocket, my chest tight, and force my feet to move.
There’s still so much work to do.
It’s not until I’m brushing the final touches of blush on Mrs. Beckett’s cheeks that it hits me—we never said when we’ll see each other again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jigsaw
I stare at the screen after the call ends. Shit. Why didn’t I say more? Promise to come see her tonight. Or at least make a plan for when I’m going to see her again.
I have no idea how long I’ll be with Cain this afternoon. That’s why. Or what kind of mood I’ll be in when we’re done. If I act like a dick to her again, she’ll probably kick me to the curb for good.
I slip the phone into my pocket and lean against the metal shelving unit bolted to the garage wall.
Something shifts above me.
Clatter.
A box of air filters smacks my shoulder before bouncing off and hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Even the shelves want to punish me for being an asshole.
I pick up the box and stick it on the shelf.
The earth-shattering rumble of a diesel pick-up finally stops, then a bike’s engine cuts off.
Pretty sure I know who just showed up, but I walk out to confirm.
Rooster’s big diesel pickup sits on one side of my bike.
I walk around it to meet him and find him getting off his bike on the other side.
“Who?” I frown and glance at the truck.
The driver’s side opens tentatively and one jean-covered, cowboy-booted foot slides down, toes touching the running board.
“I did it!” Shelby shouts, jumping from the cab of the truck and landing on the pavement with a thud. “Comin’ up the driveway and making that turn was a doozy.”
Rooster’s grinning from ear to ear. “Good job, chickadee.” He rounds the bike and scoops her up, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
I clear my throat. “What in the devil’s uncut dick is happening here?”
Shelby draws back, eyes wide, and bursts into laughter. “What?”
Rooster sets her down but keeps an arm around her. “Good morning to you, too.”
I hold out my hands, palms up, and raise my eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.
“You know I hate driving the truck. It’s so dang big.” Shelby scowls at Rooster’s bike. “But it’s colder than a polar bear’s balls, so I didn’t want to ride. And Rooster had some stuff to haul up here, anyway.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “So I wrangled this beast like a badass.” She slaps her hand against the side of the truck.
Leave it Shelby to pull laughter out of me when I’m feeling shitty. “Yeah, you did. Good job, songbird.”
Rooster squints. “What’s up with you? Why so early?”
I shrug and jam my hands in my pockets.
“Brrr.” Shelby hugs her arms around herself. “Y’all can gab out here. I’m gonna go inside and get some tea or somethin’.”
They engage in yet another long, slow kiss. I turn away, staring at the house.
Something soft touches my arm. “You all right today, Jiggy?” Shelby asks.
I peer down at her and nod.
“Margot come with you?”
I’m not scared of the ass-kicking Shelby threatened to give me if I screwed things up with Margot, as much as I’d like to avoid seeing the disappointment in Shelby’s eyes. “No, she’s got a funeral today.”
“Phew, that must get depressing.”
“You fix things there?” Rooster asks.
Thanks a lot, dick.
Shelby’s eyes narrow. “Oh, yeah. Why was she lookin’ for ya?”
I blow out an irritated breath and glare at Rooster. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell her.”
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to.” He shrugs.
Shelby stares up at him, then me, her expression darkening. “Tell me what?”
“Not what you’re thinking.” I cut that off before she even says it. Christ, how do I put this into words without diving into the entire story? Shelby’s had enough ugly things happen in her life; she doesn’t need my dark past in her head. “I, uh, have a younger half-brother who showed up, looking to reconnect. Kinda threw me. Still dealing with it.”