Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“That might be the best idea I’ve ever heard,” I decided.
“We could do it for your birthday in May,” he suggested.
There was a second there where my belly flipped, feeling like I hadn’t ever told him my birthdate. But, I mean, clearly, I must have if he knew it. We talked a lot.
“That’s a great idea. I… didn’t get to celebrate my last birthday,” I admitted.
“Yeah,” he agreed, giving me a squeeze. “We should plan the trip before your birthday, then be back here on the actual day, so we can have a big party with our people.”
Our people.
I realized at that moment that these men and women and kids who I’d gotten to know over the past few months truly were that. Ours. His, of course. But also mine.
I’d gone from being so alone in the world after my grandmother passed to having a whole group of people around who cared about me and who I was really starting to love. Each and every one of them. Even the standoffish Slash and the often-absent Rook.
Since I set foot in Shady Valley, I had a feeling that I was never going to leave. And each day that I spent here, I got more and more sure of that. I couldn’t leave these people. I couldn’t imagine Christmases and New Years without them. My stomach hurt at the idea of not being able to see these sweet little kids grow up.
Maybe alongside my own kids.
I’d always wanted them. Several, in fact. And I didn’t want to imagine a future where I didn’t get to have that because of something that had happened to me.
I would get there some day.
And if there is ever a man who would be there for me on that journey, it was Riff.
“Did you—what was that?” I asked, hearing a slam below, then a raised male voice.
Riff was off the bed and across the room in a blink, whipping open the door, and listening.
“Rook,” he said, giving me an apologetic look. “I’m gonna go see what’s going on,” he said, disappearing out into the hallway.
Rook, in the time I’d known him, had been pretty chill. If there was ever someone I didn’t think I’d hear yelling, it was him.
Curious, I followed Riff’s path out into the hallway, then downstairs, where Rook was pacing back and forth along the kitchen island.
“I’m so fucking sick of it,” he snarled.
“I know it sucks—“ Colter tried to interject, but Rook whipped on him, anger sparking off of every nerve ending.
“How the fuck do you know? You pay that sniveling shit a couple grand and he doesn’t even show his face in this town for weeks. When have you ever had him show up to drug test you? When has he tossed your fucking apartment three times in one goddamn week? You have no fucking idea.”
Colter’s hands went up in a placating gesture.
“Look,” Coach tried as Rook resumed his pacing. “We all know Nancy is a nightmare. But you gotta stop letting her get to you so much. It’s only going to make shit worse.”
“She denied me again,” Rook growled, picking up a glass that had been sitting on the counter, and tossing it before anyone could stop him.
A gasp escaped me as it shattered, a loud sound in the open, quiet space.
Rook turned quickly, spotting me, his face twisting up in concern and regret.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Vienna,” he said, voice soft, the anger bleeding out of him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—“
While I did love how sweet they all were with me, I did also sometimes bristle at how they treated me like I was so fragile, so breakable.
“Who is Nancy?” I asked, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
“She’s Rook’s parole officer,” Riff supplied. “She’s…”
“A raging bitch?” I supplied, getting a surprised chuckle out of the men.
“Something like that,” Riff agreed. “Her husband was put into a coma from some random man on parole. So she decided to change career paths and, essentially, harass the fuck out of all other parolees.”
“Oh, wow. What did she deny?” I asked, figuring the usually so well-contained Rook wouldn’t be so mad about general harassment, even if it was excessive.
“She won’t let me get in touch with my mom. Not to go see her. Not to call her. Nothing.”
Right.
Rook’s mom.
Who was in a mental health facility ever since whatever happened with the man who swindled her.
The man that Rook attacked for doing that.
“That’s cruel,” I said, my heart aching for him. All he wanted to do was see his mom. Who could deny him that? Who could deny her, an innocent party, that? “How long is your parole?” I asked.
“Three years.”
“How far into it are you?”
“About a year and a half,” he said, jaw muscle twitching. Whereas I was thinking along the lines of Well, at least you’re halfway done, I imagine his mindset was more similar to I’m only halfway done?