Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Friends?
Not exactly.
I know his asshole quite intimately. We’re more than friends, that’s for damn sure. And once I’ve fucked the beautiful boy, we’ll be a whole lot more.
“Focus, Sheriff. Callan is an adult. He wants to be treated like one.” I try like hell to keep my face even but a smile tugs at one corner of my lips. I power on so he doesn’t notice, even though I’m pretty sure he does. “He has a safe place to stay. I’m not the one you need to worry about right now. We have a bigger problem. Like why in the hell these people think it’s okay to terrorize him.”
“Fuck.” He scrubs his palm over his face. “I can’t have a real conversation with you while you hold that cat.”
“My cat.”
“Jesus. He got to you too.”
“Sparkles was doomed for death.”
He shakes his head. “Better you than me. I’ve taken enough for the team.”
Sparkles hisses at Jax because he doesn’t like his fucking attitude.
“Listen,” I say, continuing to pet my cat. “Ned didn’t just spit on some random gay guy. He spit on Callan. Wallace’s son was pushing him around, and now Wallace is threatening him in front of a restaurant full of people. These things are happening in broad daylight. No shame. They’re behaving this way because they get away with it. That time is over. It’s time we do what we’re here for. To lay down the goddamn law. You’re either for protecting people, or you’re placating those monsters. I know where I stand. Where I’ve always stood.”
“He spit on Callan?” Jax’s features are pinched, a mixture of sadness and horror gleaming in them. “Why didn’t he tell us?”
Poor guy is fucking clueless.
“He did. Well, he told me. And in case you didn’t notice, Callan is having a rough time. Can you blame him? Things have been shitty for him ever since he moved here last December. His own teacher tried to kill him. Tried to kill him, Jax. That’s gotta be hard on him.”
Jax sits on the edge of his desk, a frown marring his handsome face. “We’ve kept such a careful eye on him. Tried to make him happy, you know? Zak watches like a hawk. Everyone cares about him and wants him to get better.”
No wonder he ran straight into my arms.
They really are smothering him.
“He doesn’t need babysitters,” I explain with a heavy sigh. “He needs people on his side. People who have his back out there. Not shielding him from the shit, but preventing it from happening in the first place. It’s our job, dammit.” I grit my teeth in frustration. “Our job is to protect him.”
Silence befalls the room.
Maybe I went overboard with that last bit, but it’s the truth. He’s the biggest victim right now. Everything keeps circling back to him. And, if they get away with treating him this way, it’ll only escalate to others until they have every non-hetero person in this town cowering in their homes. I’ll be damned if I live in a town run by bullies.
“No tolerance,” Jax agrees. “We have to make it clear we won’t tolerate the hate, even if it pisses off a lot of people in the process.”
“Because there are a lot of frightened people who are counting on us. Especially Callan.”
Callan
A yawn escapes me, but I refuse to crawl onto the chaise again. I made that mistake around three this morning and ended up taking a short nap. I don’t want to nap. I want to stay awake so I can sleep with Atlas again.
So, rather than getting comfortable, I glare at my textbook. I’d wanted to skip right to the fun stuff that I’d wanted to study. Not English and economics and world history. I promised myself if I could catch up on my classwork, then I could paint.
His barn red lips.
Electric blue eyes.
Dark slash of his brows.
He’d been my savior last night at Martha Joy’s. I’d called for him, and he came. No questions asked.
I still remember the way everyone gaped at him in the restaurant. It was so…bold. He did that for me.
Knowing my schoolwork will have to take a backseat, I close my textbook and lean back in my chair. My eyes flutter closed for a minute. I’m awoken to the sound of keys jangling and then a deep, masculine voice that sets my blood on fire.
“Welcome home, Sparkles. Promise you won’t shit until I can get you a litterbox.”
Atlas rounds the corner with a furry white cat in his arms. I didn’t think he could look any hotter, but him cuddling the animal twists my insides.
“I didn’t expect to see you still awake,” he admits, his smile curving up. “I see you’ve already been at it.” He gestures to the wall behind me, where I’d painted three different shades of gray that I thought would look good in the dining area.