Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“High school boyfriend Cooper? College boyfriend Tyler? Got them. Who’s the frat guy and the Tinder guys?” Griffin is trying to be nonchalant about that list, but he’s about as chalant as you can get, and it sounds more like a hit list than a recitation of my past lovers. Not that I slept with all those guys. They’re just the ones that immediately came to mind with the head-push move.
Hell, the last Tinder guy had barely kissed me before he was shoving me southward and settling into his seat like he was ready to be serviced. No, just no. That was when I deleted the app and went on a dating strike that lasted until I went out with Jacob, and we all know how that turned out with Dom’s Middle Ages approach to my dating life.
“Wait, how do you know my high school and college boyfriends’ names?” I ask, suddenly wide awake and staring at Griffin in horror.
It’s his turn to shrug dismissively. “Dom talks about you. He worries.”
It feels like he’s leaving something out there, like maybe he worries too. But that doesn’t make sense. Griffin probably wishes my brother were an only child. If that were the case, he wouldn’t get roped into going on wild-goose chases for stolen rings that will never be found with emotionally messy drama queens. Not that I’m usually this hysterical, but he hasn’t exactly seen me at my best in the last two days. For completely reasonable, understandable reasons.
“Dominic is a pain in my ass.”
“But you love him. And he loves you,” Griffin counters.
He’s right, and we both know it. Still, I steel my face, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him, even though it’s true. I do love my brother. He’s the best brother a girl could hope for. Except when he’s controlling and thinks he knows better than I do what’s good for me. But other than that, he’s the best. And fine, even his annoying overbearingness comes from a place of love, so I can’t be too mad about it.
“He talks about you all the time, you know that, right?” Griffin continues, not put off by my silence. “About how brave you are for dropping out of college and starting a business, about what a creative genius you are, seeing potential in ugly shit no one else wants, and about how you never let an obstacle get in your way. You just bulldoze right over anything or anyone that tries to block you on the path to making your dreams come true.”
He watches me as he speaks, his look considerably softer than the hostile glares he usually offers me. He’s looking at me like he believes what Dominic says about me too.
But I’m not brave. I flunked out of my college classes because I was already too busy trying to build PLDesigns to study for a history test or do a psychology project I didn’t care about. And I’m creative for sure, but a genius? I don’t need a Mensa test to know that’s not the case. As for obstacles? I definitely go right over them, but it’s not a bulldozer situation. It’s a stumble-and-tumble type deal.
I once read a quote that said it’s not about how many times you fall but how many times you get back up. Over the years, I’ve fallen roughly a million times. But I’m still getting up every time. Including now.
I can feel the hot prick of tears in the corners of my eyes. “Did he really say all that?” I question, wanting to believe it, but also all too aware that we’re talking about my brother, Dominic, who’s more prone to kicking ass than offering kind words.
“Yeah.” Griffin nods. “That, and that you’re unbelievably annoying, can’t drive for shit, and could trip over an invisible rock a hundred yards away.” He ticks off those attributes on his fingers, and I can’t help but look at his hands. His knuckles are rough, showing a lifetime of impact, his fingers long and thick, and the overall size is somewhere around that of a dinner plate. “Wait, maybe it was me who said that part?”
He tilts his head like he’s trying to remember if it was him or Dom. It works, I laugh, the contrast in Griffin’s tone and words drying up my tears before they can fall. “Thanks, Griffin.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but the momentary sweetness means something to me. So does the teasing. It’s familiar like a comfy pair of jeans. “He talks about you too,” I taunt, planning to say something nice to him for a change too.
He tenses, every muscle suddenly hard as a rock, and I can feel the dread emanating from him like a visceral thing in the back seat between us. I swear I can almost hear the high-alert warning sirens going off in his mind behind his sharp brown eyes. “What did he say?”