Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” I said, remorse making my voice wobble.
It was hard for me to remember sometimes that I wasn’t the only person who’d lost something when I’d gone blind. It just wasn’t something that I thought about on a daily basis. Darkness was my reality. But for my parents, they’d lost something, too. Something they’d never spoken to me about, but I knew was there all the same. One day, they’d had a fully functioning eleven-year-old daughter who loved to ride and climbed trees like a monkey, and within hours they’d been parents of a completely different child. Oh, my personality was still pretty similar after I’d gotten over the trauma of that day, but my day-to-day life had changed drastically. Suddenly, they were watching me every minute, helping me learn how to do everything all over again in a different way.
I’d realized pretty early on that they were so grateful that I’d survived when others hadn’t, that any frustration they had at my new disability had been quickly overshadowed by massive amounts of guilt, no matter how warranted that frustration was. They’d never said a word about any of it, but I knew my parents. Those first few years after the attack had been hard on them, not only as parents, but as husband and wife, too.
So, yeah. Jokes about my blindness weren’t funny to my dad. I wasn’t even sure if my mom found them funny, but she understood the need for sarcasm in a way that he didn’t.
“Well, you’re here now,” Dad said, patting my thigh. “Might as well stay for a bit.”
“Where’s Rose?” I asked. Once Cam had separated me from her and Tommy, I hadn’t heard her voice again. The clubhouse was one of the only places outside of our homes that she felt comfortable leaving my side for very long.
“Talking to Grease,” Dad said with a laugh. “And he looks like he’s about to break something.”
“She’s spent too much time with Mom,” I replied. “She can pretty much talk circles around him.”
“She’s pointing over here,” he murmured in amusement.
“Yeah, she’s probably using you as an example. See, Dad, Uncle Casper isn’t giving Lily a hard time.”
“You two are both little shits,” my dad said with a huff. “I’m gonna go find your mother. You good?”
“Yeah. I’ll probably just sit here for a while until Rose wants to leave.”
“Got some boys from the Sacramento chapter here tonight,” Dad said as he stood up. “Watch yourself.”
“Always do,” I replied as he rested a hand on the top of my head and then walked away.
As protective as my parents were, if things weren’t particularly rowdy at the club, they didn’t really mind if I hung around. There were times that my dad would have thrown me over his shoulder and carried me outside, but for the most part, he knew I could handle myself. Growing up in the club meant I’d seen and heard a lot of things that probably weren’t age appropriate, but that was just the life we’d lived. Sometimes you got a huge dose of reality before you were particularly ready for it. Living through a shooting that killed some of your family was one of those things. I didn’t think my parents were particularly concerned with me witnessing drinking or drugs or slutty women hanging all over the men after all the stuff I’d already been through.
“My dad is a pain,” Rose announced a few minutes later as she dropped into my dad’s empty chair. “I swear he still thinks I’m five.”
“He’s just protective.”
“It’s ridiculous. I’m related to most of these guys,” she huffed.
“Not all of them.” I turned my face in her direction and lowered my voice. “Dad said there’s some guys from Sacramento here. Any good ones?”
Rose was quiet for a minute, then sighed. “Yeah, but just one. Messy blonde hair, some red in his beard, built like a wall.”
“How old?” I asked, reaching for my drink.
“I’m guessing early twenties. Could be younger, I can never tell with this crowd.”
“Clothes?”
“Gray flannel under his cut. They’re pretty much all wearing long sleeves. Looks like the Cali boys can’t handle the chilly spring we’re having.”
We both laughed at her ribbing. It was spring in Oregon, nearly summer, and from the minute the temperature rose above sixty-five degrees, all of the guys around here lived in short sleeve t-shirts. It was warm for us.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” I told her as she finished cackling. “Stay here so I can find you afterward.”
“Oh, hell no,” she argued. “There’s shit all over the place. Nothing’s where it’s supposed to be. You’re gonna fall on your face.”
“I’ll be careful,” I ground out through clenched teeth as I used her shoulder to push myself to my feet. “The wall is two feet from me, I’ll follow it to the fucking hallway and it’ll be smooth sailing from there.”