Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“One hundred percent. Daddy’s a man of the lord. Doesn’t believe in altering God’s gifts.”
“While I believe in worshipping them…”His palm turns upward for Pres to pass along her newest friend. “Drink?”
“Smoke?” She counters in a low, sexy tone.
He releases a pleased groan while I roughly grab my girl’s hand, anxious to get her away from him.
Them.
All the bullshit she doesn’t need to know I do when she’s not around.
“Why don’t you two go do that…,” I gently tug at Pres’s fingers to summon her stare, “while we go for a drive? Maybe a long one out to the lake? I haven’t taken you there in a while to sit by the water and ramble at me about Shel Silverstein or Nikki Giamatti.”
“Giovanni,” she sweetly corrects. “Giamatti is an actor.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The brush off is given on a grunt and a headshake. “Let’s go do that. Let’s get some fuckin’ fresh air.”
Her eyebrows launch upward in concern. “Fresh air? You okay?”
“I’m-”
“You sure you’re good to drive?” Ivo interrupts my answer with his own question.
“I’m straight.”
Alright, I’m not.
But I will be.
All I need is a little fresh air.
Little time not in this fucking house.
Not around the rotation people buying shit and dropping shit and coming down off shit.
Instinctively, Presley inquires, “You sick, Ry?”
“I'm fine.”
“You sure? I don’t mind going and getting you-”
“I said I was fucking fine. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Maybe because you’re yelling at her?” Jamie casually interjects.
“Who fuckin’ asked you?”
Her face scrunches yet gets blocked by Ivo stepping in front of her. “Collins, you sure you’re good to drive? You two don’t have go anywhere. You can just walk the property. You can fuck around in the media room. You can even give one of the bathrooms that has the two heads a shot.”
“Two heads?” Jamie curiously questions over his shoulder.
His head immediately angles itself her direction. “You wanna try that shit out, too?”
“You two do that and we’re gonna do the shit I fucking said.”
“Ry-”
“Let’s fucking go.” My restlessness exponentially grows, starts to get the better of me, starts to clash with everyone in the area.
Everything.
I know if I can just get a little air or a little fucking space I can chill out.
Maybe a fucking smoke?
Pres won’t care if I light a cigarette.
Carmen smokes around her all the goddamn time.
No reason I can’t.
“Come on,” I command, dragging her behind me, rather than walking with her. “Fuckin’ act like you know how to walk stripper shoes.”
“Fuck you,” she bites at the same time she tries to free her fingers from my hold. “They’re not stripper shoes.”
“Welll they’re not exactly your good little virgin boots, now, are they?”
Her hand finds freedom, but I’m not sure if I let go because we made it to my car or if she pried herself free so that she doesn’t have to touch me.
Why wouldn’t she wanna fucking touch me all of a sudden?
“You’re being kind of a dick.”
“You’re being kind of a bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes widen at the accusation at the same time her arms fold over her chest.
The same chest I now don’t think I’m gonna see tonight.
“I didn’t mean that shit.” Scrubbing my hands down my face, I force myself to finish sobering up. To be the dude she knows…she trusts…she loves…Not the funniest, biggest asshole in the room like I’ve been all afternoon. “I just…Why are you being bitchy instead of my like sweet girl?”
“Calling me bitchy isn’t really fucking different from calling me a bitch,” she begins, unhappiness surging, which in turn spikes mine. “And you’re also acting really fucking weird. I don’t like it.”
Exhaustion unexpectedly slams into me prompting me to give my face another scrub.
Fuck, when did I get this tired?
Unforeseen pounding appears behind my eyes.
At my temples.
Goddamn that fucking hurts.
“And why do you smell like cigarette smoke? And…vodka? Is that vodka on your breath?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I knew I shouldn’t have had that second drink to “take off the edge of seeing her”.
“Ry, is that fucking vodka on your breath?”
“Why are you on my goddamn dick about this shit?!” One set of fingers wind around her upper bicep while the other yanks open the door. “Will you just get in the fucking car, already?!”
“No!”
The word, the tone, and the fucking volume attack all at once successfully switching me from the Collins mode I seemed incapable of shaking to the Ry one. And the instant I’m there, I realize that there isn't just fear in her eyes, but tears.
Real.
Fucking.
Tears.
Disgusted by my own behavior, I immediately release her and part my lips to apologize, yet all the words I could ever fathom to say are smothered out by an airy sob.
Oh shit…
What did I almost just fucking do?
What have I actually fucking done?
--
I don’t register that I have tears until one suddenly hits my cheek.
Fuck, I can’t believe I still get this upset thinking about that shit.