Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Myla,” Cian said quietly as I left, his disappointment evident.
There was no way I’d be able to close myself in my room when my blood was thumping so hard in my veins. I found myself in the garage a few minutes later, and I was taping my hands before I was even aware of what I was doing.
I’d set up a punching bag in the corner of the garage when I’d moved into the house and put it to use before I’d even bought a couch. I spent so much time out there that we’d eventually set up a little water station to remind me to drink something while I was working out.
Sweat was running down my back and I’d just stripped off my shirt when Bas came quietly into the garage.
“How you doin’?” he asked, pulling a lawn chair over.
“Does it look like I’m in the mood for a heart-to-heart?” I grunted, my knuckles burning.
“Girls are in bed,” he replied, ignoring my brush off. “Except for Myla. She’s pukin’.”
“Cian with her?”
“Yep.”
“’Course he is,” I muttered.
“They feel like shit, you know. Myla especially.”
“Good for them.”
“I get that you’re pissed.”
“Oh, yeah?” I barked sarcastically, wiping my hand on my jeans. One of my knuckles had split and was bleeding all over the place. Goddammit.
“They’re just worried about you,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Noel comin’ back is huge.”
“It’s not.”
“How do you figure?”
“She’s been gone six years, man,” I replied with an exasperated laugh. “What do you all think is gonna happen? She’s had a whole fuckin’ life up there. Neither of us is the same as when she left.”
“Yeah, that shit would work on anyone else,” he replied dryly, watching me in amusement. “But I rode home with the two of you. The tension in that SUV could’ve powered a small city.”
“Not sure what everyone’s expectin’ me to do.” I started yanking the tape off my hands. My knuckle wasn’t going to stop bleeding without some glue. “I’ve been stuck in fuckin’ limbo for years, not knowin’ what was happenin’ with her. Now I know. That’s enough.”
“So, that’s it?”
“I don’t even fuckin’ know her anymore,” I burst out, glaring at my best friend. He was so fucking calm I wanted to hit him. He was always calm. I’d rarely seen Bas angry. “She was fuckin’ married. She has kids. I live in a fuckin’ party house with two roommates. We’ve got nothin’ in common.”
Bas just nodded, getting to his feet as I walked toward the door.
“I don’t remember you havin’ anythin’ in common when you were kids either,” he mused as I stepped through the door, raising his voice to make sure I’d heard him. “Didn’t seem to matter then.”
Snagging a bottle of superglue from a drawer in the kitchen, I carried it up to my bathroom. Knuckle wounds were the worst because it didn’t matter how I dressed them, they always opened back up and they always bled like a motherfucker.
After a quick shower, I wrapped a towel around my hips and got to work, pouring peroxide over the cut and using the superglue to close it up the best I could. I was actually a little thankful for the distraction and something to do. Between the session with the bag and the alcohol I’d had, by the time I was done cleaning up, I was more than ready to crash for the night.
The next morning I woke up ready to move the fuck on. I’d spent the last six years biding my time, waiting on Noel to show up or call or send a fucking smoke signal and now that she had, it was time to start moving forward. The girl I’d been waiting for was a completely different person now and that was fine. It was good. It made sense.
I didn’t need to know why she hadn’t called. I didn’t need to know what her life had been like up in Washington. I didn’t need the details. Whatever had happened in the time we were apart wasn’t any of my business and I needed to fucking remember that.
The first call I made was to my sister-in-law, Emilia. Before anyone else in the house had even dragged their asses out of bed, I was headed to my parents’ place to meet her for breakfast.
“Ma! I’m home,” I yelled as I walked in the front door.
“We’re in the kitchen,” she called back.
“Uncle Titus!” my nephew Asa screamed, hopping off his chair so he could sprint toward me.
“Hey, baby Grease,” I joked, swinging him up into my arms. “How you doin’?”
“I’m Asa,” he corrected, squishing my cheeks between his hands.
“My bad,” I replied. We both knew I’d call him baby Grease again. It was our thing.
“So what’s the big news?” Emilia asked, setting down a plate of cut up pancakes on my niece’s high chair.