Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 144840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“He told you to be quiet.”
“Without speaking a single word.” I nod. “He met my eye for a split second, and I about swallowed my tongue.” I scratch at the red printed California at the top of the item and jump ahead. “My mom was on her knees at my brother’s side when my dad was done with him, but not to cry and hold her son. She was crying, but her tears were in fear of what would happen to my dad, to her. She sat there and pleaded with Bass, and only when he agreed to lie when asked, did she allow me to help him into the car so we could take him to the hospital. I had to grab an old shovel from the garage to balance me out.” I scoff, shaking my head. “She wouldn’t even help me get him to his feet.”
I turn to Royce, who hasn’t looked away yet.
“Bass told the people at the hospital he fell down a hill riding his bike when really my father drug him out his bedroom window and rolled him off the roof into the long bed of his stupid El Camino.” I swallow, sharing the last, maybe even worst, part. “All because Bass had left the back door open.”
Tension lines Royce’s face as he pieces it together.
“Day or night, we weren’t allowed outside in the summer, and we were never allowed to leave doors open and risk the neighbors hearing what went on inside our walls.”
“Summer,” he drags out.
“My dad’s favorite season.”
“No school.”
He’s getting it.
“No school, no reason for restraint... no swimsuits that would show our family’s secrets.”
His eyes slide between mine. “Bass, he told you that night wasn’t your fault.”
I sigh, looking out at the stupid car my mom bought him.
“Oh yeah, but we both know that it was. I could have sworn I closed and locked the door, but I was in such a hurry to get up there without getting caught I guess I just... forgot. Bass said it happened how it was supposed to because it gave him the car.”
My mouth twitches. “He’d tell me stories all the time how it would one day be our ticket out of there. He was only twelve when that happened, couldn’t even drive the damn thing yet.” I laugh, but it quickly dies. “It took me a while to understand why she’d give a child a car he couldn’t drive, but then I realized it was nothing but another wicked way to show us we were helpless. Like... here’s your car, but I’ll hang on to the keys while you dream of a way out that will never come.”
I frown. “Bass was back in the hospital with a broken jaw a week later.” I lick my lips, glancing back to Royce. “The lies came easier after that.”
“Yeah?” His eyes narrow in suspicion. “What was the incentive?”
I knew he understood.
“Come on, Playboy.” I run my tongue along my teeth. “Let’s not pretend there’s more than one answer to that question.”
I pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around them only to wince.
With jerky movements, Royce slides closer, bending a bit to get a better look.
“I need to get these out.” He tilts my right leg before quickly double checking my left again.
He drops to his knees in front of me, hooks my calf over his shoulder, his head now positioned between my legs, and only an inch before my kneecaps.
This is one of those rare times I wish I had longer legs because oh my god!
He’s a head dip away from my crotch.
“Stop.”
My eyes fly to his, but he keeps focused on the tiny pieces of glass shimmering in the sunlight.
“Stop what?”
That has him looking up. “Every muscle in your body went stiff just then. I can’t do this right if you can’t relax, if you can’t relax on your own, then I might have no other choice than to dip my head and help you out.”
My hands come up to slap over my face and I drop my body all the way back on the folded down seat. “Oh my god, I hate myself.”
I swear his smirk is clear in his words. “Are you gonna chill or not?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I take a deep breath and do my best to calm myself with Brayshaw’s only bachelor between my legs.
“You stopped breathing.”
Ugh!
I manage to relax enough for him to pull the few out, and then he reaches over me to grab an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit he pulled out earlier. He dabs against the spot he’s just cleaned—the soft skin of my inner thigh.
He dips his head, blowing along the area to help it dry.
I pull in a breath and hold it.
I know he feels them, the goose bumps as they raise, and not just where his warm breath reached or where his steady hand touches, but everywhere.