Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
I find my phone under a paper plate and scroll to our family chat. A quick check of the time says it’s too late to text my siblings, but that’s what they get for having me as a brother.
Me: Anyone up?
Kate: Meeeee! What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?
Me: Are you drinking?
Kate:
Gavin: Hi, Kate.
Kate: Not talking to you, Gav.
Gavin: It’s not my fault. I told you that.
Me: It’s absolutely his fault.
Gavin: EXCUSE ME?
I can’t help but smile.
Mallet: Is someone dead?
Kate: Not yet. I’m working on it. Wanna help?
Mallet: I have my own list of candidates. I’ll help you if you help me.
Kate: Deal.
Me: How’s training going, Mallet?
Mallet: Hard as fuck. What’s going on back there?
Gavin: Why are you being so nice, Mallet?
Gavin: Is this actually Mallet?
Gavin: I think someone stole his phone.
Kate: You’re pushing it, Gav.
I kick my boots up on my desk and lean back in my chair.
Me: I started this convo, and no one is talking to me.
Mallet: Typical middle child syndrome.
Kate: So why is everyone up this late? Is it a full moon or something?
Me: I’m looking at the sky right now, and it’s black. No moon. Is that a moon phase?
Gavin: This convo is getting boring.
Mallet: Why? Because something halfway intelligent was just brought up?
I snort.
Gavin: Tell your next opponent that I’ll tell him how to kick your ass for free.
Mallet: Better grow up, little boy, before you try to play with the men.
Kate: STOP. Hell. Why did God give me all brothers?
Me: Oh, like you’d survive with a sister.
Mallet: She has one. Gavin.
Gavin: Asshole.
I lean backward so I can see out the barn doors to check the house again. There are still no lights, no movement, just like it’s been all night.
My fingers itch to touch her, and my arms beg to hold her. But it’s late at night, and she’s had a long, emotionally draining day. She fired her father, for fuck’s sake, and then heard my bullshit.
Her words completely gutted me.
“There were so many days, weeks, and even months when I dissected everything about myself. I had a new experience and wanted to share it with you every day. And so many times, I was lonely and scared, holed up in a hotel room with no one to talk to. And I called you, and you didn’t answer.”
She’d been scared and lonely? Had no one to talk to? And I hadn’t been there?
It makes it even more fucking amazing that she walked in here almost two weeks ago like she owned the place. She should have hated me for thinking I abandoned her.
I hate myself.
Not only that but growing up with my dad led me to believe that I should trust her father. It never occurred to me that the man was a snake. How fucking wrong I was. No wonder she has trust issues. I need to do better. I have to. I have to take care of my girl.
Surely, she’ll see that side of things in the morning. Please, God.
“It’ll all be better in the morning,” I say. “I just need to give her some space.”
Me: I need some advice tomorrow.
Mallet: I’m busy.
I laugh.
Gavin: I’m GREAT at that. Call me.
Kate: If it has anything to do with a girl, call me.
Chase: I don’t know why you fuckers think it’s acceptable to blow up my phone at two in the morning, but you can fuck right off.
Me: I need advice tomorrow, Chase. Can I come over?
Chase: No.
Me: How does ten o’clock work?
Chase: I’m turning my phone off.
Kate: Night.
I stand and switch the light off on my desk.
Me: Going to bed, too.
Kate: Love you, Lukie.
Gav: Night.
Mallet: See ya.
I slip my phone into my pocket and head to the house.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Laina
I have an emotional hangover.
My body feels like I’ve run a mile, and my face gives me an idea of what it might be like to be in a street fight. Puffy eyes. Blotchy skin. A scowl that runs deep.
I’m in no mood for bullshit, yet I’ve caused my fair share of it recently. I lay awake in bed for most of the night and replayed everything Luke said.
“You know how much I fucking love you. You know my heart. Yet when things get hard, you expect me to hurt you.”
The look on his face when he spoke those words is imprinted in my brain. I hate myself for making him feel that way.
He was right when he said my instinct is to assume the worst. That’s such a shitty thing to do to other people, and it’s an even shittier thing to do to myself.
Luke’s note is on the kitchen table, telling me he was running to Chase’s and that we would talk when he gets back. He signed it with an I love you, which has to be a good sign.