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)
Like with most things in life, I gave zero fucks. Fucker thought he could shame us with those derogatory Klan numbers. I was gonna wear that shit like a damn military medal.
With fucking pride.
I threw on my jeans and walked into the kitchen. Nothing was switched on. I checked the coffee pot where we made the chicory coffee. It was cold. Frowning, I went to Hush’s bedroom. It was empty, the covers on the bed not even touched. I started to turn away, but then I noticed his side table was open a little. I checked behind me to make sure Hush wasn’t around. Everything was silent but for the soft sounds of Sia sleeping in my bed.
The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I walked to the drawer. I opened it, and a huge fucking lump clogged my throat when I saw what was missing. “His picture,” I said to myself . . . then my heart plummeted like a fucking rock when I saw his meds.
I backed out of the room and quickly checked the rest of the house. Nothing. Shit! I burst out of the door and ran to the garage. “Fuck!” I shouted. His bike had gone. Heart hammering, I flew back up the stairs. Sia was walking from the bedroom, sheet wrapped around her.
“Cowboy? What is it?” she asked, face pale, wiping the sleep from her eyes. I didn’t blame the bitch. She’d been to hell and back these past few weeks.
“He’s gone.” I ran past her into my bedroom. I threw on my shirt and cut. Sia followed me.
“Gone?” she asked, her face filled with confusion.
“Hush.” I rushed into Hush’s bedroom and grabbed his meds. I stuffed them into my cut. I entered the hallway to see Sia getting dressed.
“Cher,” I said. “I’ll take you to Ky’s. I gotta go after Hush.” Because I knew exactly where he’d gone. The only place I knew he would go without me. Our fucking home. I always knew that one day he’d return. He’d kept too much inside him for too long. How much could a fucking brother handle before he exploded? He never spoke about his folks. Or that night. Kept it all inside his head, letting it all build and build until it had become too much.
I caught sight of Sia’s “23/2” brand. Ice cut through me like I’d been plunged onto the Mid-Atlantic. I’d seen him staring at our wounds. I’d caught him clenching his fists, face paling as he stared at them.
Panic set in. What if he’d done something really stupid?
“I’m coming,” Sia said, pulling me from my head. My vision focused on her. I opened my mouth to argue, but she added, “If he’s gone. If he’s hurt.” She winced, as if those thoughts alone fucking killed her. “Then I’m coming.” Sia took my hand. “We’re a team. You, me, and Hush. And I ain’t gonna be benched because I’ve got a pussy.” My lip twitched. She kissed me on my cheek. “I love him. I love you. I need to be there . . . wherever it is we’re going.”
I grabbed my Chopper’s keys and Sia’s hand. “Hope you can ride, cher. ’Cause it’s gonna be a long-ass fucking drive. And I ain’t planning on stopping.”
She pulled on my hand, bringing me to a halt. “I’m a biker bitch, Breaux. I was riding on the back of bikes before I learned to walk.” I winked, laughing at the sass that had been missing far too long, and dragged her out of the apartment. I pulled out of the apartment block and cut up road. Sia held on tight.
We had a fucking date with Louisiana.
*****
I cut like lightning through the old streets. The diner I ate at every day. The tattoo shop where I got my first ink . . . white power. I gritted my teeth just fucking remembering that. Remembering seeing Hush and his daddy being forced from the diner like it was the sixties and black and white couldn’t mix. I supposed this town was the place that time forgot. Stuck in the past. Small minds and even smaller tolerances for anything outside of the norm.
Sia squeezed my waist tighter, as if she knew I was fucking warring with myself. I was a bat out of hell as I tore up the asphalt and joined the back roads that led to where I knew my brother would be. The ground was wet. We’d just missed a storm that had blown in. My body tensed on seeing a familiar set of trees in the near distance.
“Is this it?” Sia asked, her mouth near my ear.
I nodded. For once I couldn’t fucking speak. All I saw were the ghosts of that night. Saw the orange glow from the flames that were ripping my best friend’s world apart as he’d sat beside me in the truck. It had been me who’d taken him to the fucking rodeo that day. If I hadn’t . . . if he’d have stayed . . .