Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“You can always be whoever the fuck you want to be and people can deal with it.”
I grin. “I also know this.”
“I love you.” His eyes soften around the edges.
I bring the palm of my hand up to his cheek. “I love you too.”
A voice clears behind us. “Um, sorry, Bryant.”
Bryant tenses, his eyes widening on me. He’s probably expecting me to snap and be hostile like I have been to Stacey, but after everything tonight, I feel like I may have overreacted. I trust Bryant, and that’s the bottom line. It has to be.
“Sorry, you’re up!”
Bryant kisses me again. “I’ll see you tonight. In our room. In my bed.” He leans down and bites on my ear. “With your legs spread and tied to our bed.”
I flush beet red as I watch him turn and head toward Stacey. Just before they disappear through the front door, Stacey turns to face me.
“Oh, and Isa?” she calls out, as I’m halfway into the car.
I bring my eyes to hers.
She smiles genuinely. “In case he didn’t tell you, I haven’t fucked this idiot since I had pimples on my cheeks.”
Bryant laughs so loud that the only thing that cuts it off is the doors closing behind them.
“Motherfucker,” I snap under my breath, getting into the car and slamming the door closed behind me.
We arrived home forty minutes ago, both had showers and then helped put Mom to bed in Devon’s quarters. She’s so demure and frail, and every time I look at her, I want to kill Peter all over again. How could he claim to love her the way he obviously did but treat her like this? Ash is cooking us up waffles in the kitchen as Jess, Brianna, and I are sipping hot cocoa at the dining room table.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jess whispers, shocked. We just filled her in from start to finish on all that has happened. “All along? This was the play? People were hurt because of this? I mean, damn.” Jess gestures to Brianna. “Your sister got shot, stopped talking to you because of it, and Harper was in danger—with us literally on the road.”
“Jess,” I snap. “I know. I know how it all unfolded.” I massage my temples before picking up my mug.
“I never hated you because of me getting shot,” Brianna finally says, after keeping quiet the whole time. “Well, it was that, but it was more that you were always so reckless. I guess I just felt more anger toward you because of it.” She exhales, looking into her hot cocoa. “I didn’t know where you were. Dad said you were getting better and it made sense, you know? I mean, you did some crazy shit.”
I snort. “That’s putting it lightly.”
Brianna almost smiles. “I believed him when even in my gut I knew that something was off. It was all too convenient to have you away getting better. But then I thought Harper had been hurt. There was so much blood, that it could have been hers, only it was obviously all mine.” Brianna swipes her tears. “I’m sorry, Isa. I should have fought harder for you as a kid, through this, and I should have been a better sister.”
I brought my hand to hers and squeezed. “You don’t need to say anything.” And she didn’t. I knew. I knew where she was coming from and I also knew that now, when she smiled at me, that it was genuine.
“Right! I have pancakes!” Ash comes laughing into the room, carrying a stack of the best fucking pancakes I would ever have the pleasure of eating.
Later that night, I’m wrapped up in Bryant’s sheets, sweat licking off my body and the bright moonlight peeking in through his floor to ceiling windows. His room is a minimalist dream.
Harper’s crib is now tucked in the corner in the room, though, with Bryant refusing to allow her even a footstep away from him.
“Are you ever going to tell me what Devon has done to Pearl and Max?” I murmur.
Bryant chuckles, so deep the muscles on his stomach shake my face. “No. I won’t.”
“But how am I going to wash your sins clean if you don’t allow me to see them?” I run the tip of my finger over the cut lines of his stomach, over his tattoos.
“Simple,” he whispers. “You don’t. But you continue to love me anyway.”
“How did your speech go tonight?” I ask, my throat swollen.
“Good,” he grumbles. “I think despite the fact that you can’t stand him, James Taylor will probably make a great president.”
I freeze, pushing up from his chest while tucking my hair behind my ear. “You stepped away?”
Bryant nods, his finger brushing over his bottom lip. “Fucking yes I did. Isa, none of that matters to me. I don’t need it. I have you and Harper, that’s all I’ll ever need.”