Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Oh, Chloe, what happened between you two?
“Well, I won’t give them to you then if you’re going to be such a dick about it. I don’t know what happened between you two, but this little angry act of yours is getting old. If you don’t like it, don’t come over here.”
“I can’t fuckin’ work with you blastin’ this bullshit music all day,” he barks, spinning toward me.
“Then wear headphones. It’s not my problem. I have a lot of work to do, and you’re slowing me down.”
“Just burn the fuckin’ thing,” he barks, his eyes pinning mine before trailing off behind me to the pieces of the wall I kept with their writing on it.
Eyes flaring, he storms over and reaches down, hauling a piece up. He spins and throws it into the fire, just barely missing my head as he does. I take a step back, mouth agape, as he angrily picks up another one and tosses it in, too.
“Stop,” I yell, rushing over, but he’s too quick and another piece lands in the burning hot flames.
“These aren’t yours to throw out,” I go on, growling as I grab his arm and try to stop him from throwing anything more.
“I told you once, I told you a thousand fuckin’ times. I don’t want this shit here,” he bellows.
“It isn’t yours to throw,” I grind out, shoving him backward until he can’t get close to the pile again.
“Why the fuck do you have to dig up the past?” he pants, fists clenched by his sides.
This is all clearly very triggering for him.
“She was my family,” I say, still standing guard by the old pile of wood. “The only person I had who truly understood me. She made me promise I’d fix this house up, and I’m going to do that for her. You can make it as easy or as hard as you’d like but I’m not leaving. Get that through your thick, stupid, biker skull.”
He steps forward until he’s pressed against me, his hot angry breath warming my face as he pants with a rage that is almost terrifying. Almost. I hold his gaze, not backing down, my jaw tight, my lips pursed. He needs to see that he doesn’t scare me.
“What?” I breathe, my entire body shaking with emotion. “What are you going to do?”
His breath is coming in short, sharp bursts, and the rage in his eyes is raw and unfiltered. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I know that he’s holding back so much right now. So much that I want to know. Questions I want answers to. Nobody will tell me anything, it’s like we’re walking around in a world full of secrets and nobody is willing to share them.
Colt steps back, not saying a single word.
Then, he turns and walks away.
I don’t know what’s scarier, him threatening me or him walking away in silence. His bitterness runs so deep, it has permanently marred his soul. I don’t know if there is ever something that could bring him back from that. Maybe if he fell in love, but I don’t know if it’s at all possible for him to love. It seems like his soul is black and has no room for anymore light.
Exhaling, I turn and glance at the fire which is now roaring.
I try to remember the few times I came to visit the two of them, but the memories are foggy. I was in my prime young years and was too busy worrying about partying and boys to pay attention to the two people I was staying with. I never had huge conversations with Colt, and most of the time Chloe just took me out and we went on adventures together.
I wish I could go back to that time knowing what I know now—I would have paid more attention.
With a muttered curse, I get back to the barn and sorting through it. I find some more photos of the two of them, these ones I decide to keep. I stumble across an old folder in one of the cupboards I pulled from the house, and inside it I find some information on Colt’s sister’s funeral. Finding an old bale of hay to sit on, I begin flicking through. Most of it is receipts and invoices for flowers and venues.
Her name was Jeannie Aiken. She was only twenty-five years old when she died, that means she was Colt’s younger sister. Her funeral brochure has a little bit about her life; she was fun and happy, she loved her family and her brother. It doesn’t say how she died, just that her life was tragically taken. I pull out my phone and do a Google search, which quickly brings up some articles on the event that took place.
Young woman killed in a hit and run has been named as local girl, Jeannie Aiken. Jeannie was last seen at a bar in town before she left with a man she is said to have been newly dating – his name has redacted for safety reasons. The two of them were walking home when Jeannie was struck by a car. The man was taken to hospital after being thrown from the road, and is in a stable condition. It is unknown who was driving the car. They fled the scene and little details are known as to what the make or the model was. If anyone has any information, they are urged to call local police.