Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Something happened to you.” He spoke without any of that lightness I’d come to love.
I moved around the living room, clutching my glass, sipping, rolling the wine around in my mouth so I could figure out what to say, how to get out of the conversation without lying. Picking a fight seemed to be a good option, make him so pissed at me that he wouldn’t care about some vague thing that happened to me in the past that he’d somehow sensed even though I was certain I’d hidden all shreds of evidence of the trauma from everyone I loved. Even from myself.
I swallowed another gulp of wine.
Elliot was going to push me. I knew he was. He was well within his rights to. Whether he suspected it or not, it was my past that had bullets flying in his backyard. And yet again, I was faced with the choice of telling him the truth, letting him in further, or doing the smart thing and shutting him out, not exposing him to any of the nastiness that I’d managed to turn my life into, underneath the cashmere, diamonds and expensive skincare.
Telling him my past was not only implicating me in crimes, therefore making him an accessory after the fact, but also putting his life in danger.
Hence why my entire family and pushy brother had been kept in the dark and would continue to be.
The way it should’ve been. But fuck, was it heavy carrying it all myself. I’d been so certain that it was the road I’d chosen, that it didn’t bother me, that I was strong enough to handle it. But there in Elliot’s house, with his open and concerned expression, the need to offload on someone who made me feel safe and protected was overwhelming.
My mouth opened.
As if it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time, a banging rattled the door.
Elliot tensed immediately, his posture changing to that defensive, badass exterior from before. I hadn’t known that version of the man lived inside him. I wondered how many more I’d bring out before this thing was done.
“Stay here,” he growled.
I let out a sigh and a silent thanks to whomever was knocking, even if they were brandishing a gun, for saving me from making a stupid decision and telling Elliot everything.
“I doubt the people who were shooting at us would be knocking at the front door.” I pushed up from the chair I’d sunken into out of exhaustion. “And if it is, masculine ire is no match for actual bullets.” My tone was flat, but I was a little worried about someone actually making it past the small-town cop likely scrolling on their phone to finish whatever job they’d started in the woods.
Elliot whirled to glare at me before he opened the door, not holding a weapon of any kind but still looking poised to go to battle.
His shoulders relaxed, then he opened the door wider in order to let another overprotective man in.
Rowan’s eyes were wild as they focused on me. He gave me a once-over, lingering on the bandage on my upper arm. In a couple of long strides, he was across the room, in front of me.
“Cal, what the fuck?” He gently brought me into his arms for a hug.
We weren’t huggers, as a rule. The rest of my family were, to my distaste. Never missed the chance to show some kind of affection. I’d weathered it with moderately good spirits throughout my life, and Rowan was no longer as averted to it as when he first got back from deployment changed and distant.
The only people he truly let his shields down with were his wife and daughter. Now his son, I supposed. I thought I could count on one hand the amount of times we’d embraced as adults.
I initially stiffened at the contact since the hug itself was much too tight, bone squeezing. But when I realized it was bursting with both worry and relief, I relaxed into it.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, patting his back awkwardly.
Rowan let me go then, pushing back to glare at me. “What the fuck, Calliope?” he asked much louder this time.
“Watch your tone,” a deep and menacing voice said.
It took me a second to recognize that it was coming from Elliot, who was currently glowering at my brother, looking like he was ready to fight him. Rowan, who was likely trained in five different ways to kill a guy in as many seconds. Most people were appropriately scared of him and smart enough to not pick a fight with him.
Not Elliot.
“Excuse me?” Rowan snarled.
Elliot didn’t show an ounce of fear at my brother’s trademark sneer. In fact, he stepped forward, gently grabbing a hold of me and pushing me behind him.
I rolled my eyes, even though I found it a teeny bit hot.