Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Please don’t get it twisted. I am not related to Dom. I may have mental issues when it comes to the guy, but not that. The club is all one big non-blood-related family. My father, Bull, and Dragon are not brothers by blood, but they have forged together by what they’ve survived and what they’ve built, and I believe those brotherly bonds might be more important. I can’t see my father ever cutting out Dragon’s heart like Dom is doing to Thomas.
I sigh. I know it’s my party, but I need to get out of here.
I force my uneven steps to slow, trying to minimize the attention my limp gets. I go back into the party, wishing I could be anywhere else. My eyes scan the people and before anyone can notice me, I make a beeline for my mom.
My mother is beautiful, with red, copper hair that falls in silken waves. Her skin is pale ivory and covered with freckles. She has eyes that have the unique ability to either fill you with warmth or send a chill down your spine—depending on her mood. She’s vibrant, fiery, and independent, yet totally devoted to my dad and to her children. She’s the most composed, put-together person I know.
“Mom,” I whisper, my heart squeezing inside my chest as I make it to her.
“Thea? What’s wrong, honey?” she asks, knowing immediately that something is. She puts her hands on each side of my face and stares into my eyes. I know she can see the unshed tears that I’m struggling to contain. Maybe she can see the smeared lipstick. There’s a chance my mom can even see the panic in my eyes. She’s a mom and a doctor. Not much ever escapes her notice. I’m not sure exactly what she realizes, because the truth is I’m a mess. What I do know is that she pulls me away from the party, and quietly leads me to the room that she and my father share here at the club when they stay. We have our own house, but we also each have a room here at the club. Admittedly, I have never used mine. I don’t feel comfortable here. I haven’t in a long time.
Now, I really don’t.
“What happened?” Mom asks as she ushers me to the bed. I sit down on the corner of the mattress and Mom sits next to me. The entire time she keeps hold of my hand and I’m glad. I need that connection right now. I’m hurting, confused, and scared.
“Dom…”
I whisper his name, my conscience dripping with guilt that somehow bleeds through in my voice. I love him. I’ve always loved him. He’s not mine. He’ll never be mine, and I’m just a fool.
“Oh, honey,” Mom whispers, pulling me into her body. Willingly, I let her, sobbing as her arms hold me tightly. I might be seventeen today, but right now, in my mom’s arms, I’m a little kid needing her to make the hurt go away. She holds me, just letting me cry. I don’t even know how long. I can’t seem to get control, even though I truly do try.
“I don’t want to love him, Mom. I don’t even know why I do.” I confess in between sobs. The words break and come out in puffs of angry breaths, but she understands them.
“Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. That’s just a sad fact of life no one wants to discuss—at least not when it involves pain.”
“Yeah, well, my heart is stupid.”
“It’s not, baby. Sometimes, it takes longer for men to realize they should think with their brains and not their dick.”
“I want to hate him. Part of me does,” I mutter, finally getting a little bit of control and pulling back.
Angrily using the back of my hand to swipe at my tears. I hate that I’m crying over him. I swore I wouldn’t do that again. He doesn’t deserve my tears. That thought manages to make me feel guilty because it’s not Dom’s fault that he’s hurting me. He made that clear two years ago when I confessed my feelings to him.
Flashback
“Crap, Thea. Shit, I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. I’ve been out working with Dad and the guys. I even missed your party.”
I look up at Dom, smiling at the sweet look on his face. When his lips move into a matching smile, I feel warm all over.
“You don’t have to get me anything,” I murmur, and I can feel my face heating in a blush.
“I do. It’s not every day you turn fifteen. What would you like? I could give you money to buy that perfume you like. The kind that smells like wildflowers after the rain.”
My heart stutters when I realize Dom knows what my favorite perfume smells like. It may not seem that big, but somehow it is to me. I smile up at him, but shake my head no. “Nah, Thomas bought me some of it as a present.”