Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
It was time to let her in.
I folded my arms across my chest. My muscles ached with how tightly they were bunched. I took a deep breath and continued. “I told you before that we’re from a small town in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana. A place where everyone is exactly the same. Mostly successful, old money . . .” I shrugged. “White.” I ran my hand through my hair and looked down at my arm, at a picture of Hades. Because I knew what had sat there before.
“Aub, you gotta get this, man,” Jase said, after we’d just competed in another rodeo. He slapped me on my back. “Gonna be pro by eighteen, I know it. We all will. That’s the fucking life!”
I nodded and sat back in the tattoo artist’s chair, giving him my arm. Skinhead dude leaned over us, covered in Klan shit, and started spreading that ink around my skin. I watched as he marked the Celtic cross on my arm. Jase, Pierre, Stan, and Davide had already had theirs. I was last. Davide had gone to get us all burgers from the diner across the road.
Jase’s hands were on my shoulders, but they suddenly froze. I followed what had got his attention. The new kid, Valan or some shit, was coming out of the diner with his papa. “Fucking half-breed,” Jase spat, his fingers digging into my shoulders. Valan and his papa were getting into their car. Valan’s face was like thunder. His papa looked broken watching his son.
“Can’t believe they’ve come to this town,” the tattoo artist said, never moving his eyes from my ink. “Fuckers will soon know that we don’t accept their kind, or the white traitorous slut who married that black bastard and had that abomination of a kid.”
Valan’s car skidded away, just as Davide crossed the road, eyes fucking lit. He burst through the door, burgers in hand. “You should’ve seen that shit!” Davide put down our food. “You see the coons that just walked into the diner?”
“We saw ’em,” Jase confirmed.
“Fucking walked in there, trying to get a table.” He shook his head. “No idea what the fuck they were thinking. But Bastien refused them service. They sat there, refusing to move. Bastien threatened them with the cops until they eventually got up and left.” He laughed. “Best bit of entertainment I’ve seen in a fucking long time.”
I stared down at the tattoo that was starting to form. An hour later I had my new tattoo. Had booked in for the next. We all did, and we went the fuck home.
“You were white power?” Sia gasped, eyes wide, and maybe a little fucking betrayed, as she stared at me.
I shook my head. “No.” But then I looked at Hush and fucking remembered seeing his face that night as he left the diner. The memory sliced me where I stood. I heard my old friends laughing in the tattoo shop. I felt my blood start to boil.
Sia edged closer to Hush. Her hand shook on his cheek. She kissed his head. “Sorry, baby,” she whispered, and I saw my brother’s eyes squeeze shut. His skin was still paling, and I knew he wasn’t doing so good.
“Sympathizers,” I said, drawing Sia’s attention back to me. I knew she was looking at me, but I kept my eyes on Hush. “The town wasn’t all Klan. Only a few were in that deep. But to say we all bought into their ideology is fair. Brought up believing white was best. Never interacted with anyone of color.”
“Christ,” Sia proclaimed. “What the hell kind of backward place was this?”
“Exactly that. An isolated town deep in the bayou.” I slid down the wall, my ass hitting the floor. I tipped my head back against the wall. “Black folk would never settle there, and if they did, they would be run out of town pretty damn quick. Hatred for anyone different was passed down from generation to generation. I know it ain’t a great excuse, but it’s what it was. No one changed their mindset because no one ever challenged it . . . until Hush and his parents moved there.” Hush winced and sucked in a huge breath. “But they were worse, because—”
“My mamma was white,” Hush ended, voice broken and sore. He lifted his head, and my throat thickened at the fucking raw pain I saw on his face.
“Black families were one thing in our town.” I met my best friend’s eyes. “But if a couple came to town and they were mixed, one black and one white, it was the worst fucking thing you could do.”
“Especially when one was the stepdaughter of the most powerful man in the town. The most racist man.”
“Your grandfather.” Sia clutched Hush’s hand tightly. Hush stared down at her hand, and I knew what he was seeing. Brown skin wrapped in white. The exact same crime his world was destroyed for. Hush ran his finger over the back of Sia’s hand, then, on a shaky breath, brought it to his mouth, and said, “Kärlek ser inte färger. Bara genuina hjärta.”