Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Instead, I ask the one thing I know he doesn’t want to talk about. “So how long you been out of prison?”
His jaw tightens, and he grips the steering wheel. He doesn’t have to answer me because I know exactly how long he was in prison. It was two years and seventeen days. I counted down the days because even though he’d said he was done with me, I thought for sure he would come find me when he got out. But he never did.
He’s staring straight ahead, and there’s no emotion in his voice. “I was in for two years, seventeen days and fourteen hours.”
“Hmmm. They didn’t make you serve your full sentence?”
He shakes his head, and I can hear the shame in his voice. “No, I got out early for good behavior.”
He flinches, and it should feel good that I know I’m getting to him, but it doesn’t give me the pleasure I thought it would. I try to make excuses for him. “You didn’t have a gun. You were the getaway car.”
He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I was trying to help a friend. I had no idea what he was about to do. I shouldn’t have—” He breaks off in frustration. “There’s no excuses. I fucked up.”
I nod my head in agreement. “What about your friend? What was his name, Jamie?”
“He’s still in prison. He got in trouble while he was in.”
“Sorry… I didn’t know that.”
He shrugs and stares at the road.
“So how long have you had your shop?”
My mom had mentioned he was working at a mechanic shop, but she didn’t mention he owned it. I made the connection when I saw the sign on the side of the truck that said Dom’s Garage.
He puts one arm up on the door of the truck. “King pretty much kicked my ass when I got out of prison. He sent me to trade school and then bought me the shop. I worked my ass off to pay him back, and I did it five years ago.”
“I heard King got married.”
He finally smiles. “Yeah, and he and his wife, Haven, are going to have a baby soon.”
“Wow,” I say, surprised that Dom’s older foster brother settled down.
“Yeah, I was the same way when I found out, but if you see the two of them together, it makes sense. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen King truly happy.”
I swallow as I think about what he just said. I wonder what it would be like to be happy on that level. “Good for him. He deserves it.”
He flips on a signal and turns toward my childhood home. I should be ready to get away from Dominic, and I’m mad at myself that I want to just sit here in the passenger seat of his truck and let him drive me around. Why do I feel so comfortable with him? I shouldn’t, not after what he did and how long it’s been since I’ve seen him.
He pulls into my mom’s driveway, and immediately I tense. My mom and I have always had a tumultuous relationship, and it hasn’t gotten any better since my dad died five years ago.
“You okay?” Dom asks.
Angry that he can sense how I’m feeling, I just grunt. “Quit acting like you care, Dom. We both know you don’t.”
I push open the door and climb out of the truck. He grabs my bags and takes them to the porch and sets them down. Back and forth we carry everything, and when he’s bringing the last bag, I stand before him. “Thank you for your help.”
He just nods his head and looks at me through those long lashes of his. “Yeah, no problem. It was good to see you again, Lucky.”
I don’t correct him on the nickname this time. I just hold my purse a little tighter because there’s a part of me that wants to dive off the porch and into his arms and beg him to hold me. I’m not sure what this hold he has on me is, but I can’t fight it.
“Thanks, Dom.”
He walks away, and I don’t move until he’s backing out of the driveway and disappears down the road. Unable to put it off any longer, I knock on my mom’s front door and wait.
It’s only seconds before she pulls it open. “Luciana…. What are you doing here?”
I probably should have called her, but I know if I did, she would have tried to talk me out of coming. We’re staring at each other through the screen door. “Hey, Mom, can I come in?”
She looks behind me at the luggage, and I swear she acts as if she’s going to tell me no. Finally, she pushes the door open. “Come on in.”
My mom stands to the side as I bring everything inside. “Luciana, what is going on? What is all this? What are you doing here?”