Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
His eyes dance because he knows I never will and I’m just talking out of my ass. I uncap another beer and hand it to him, walking away before he can say more.
The jukebox goes through every song twice, and I spend a good amount of time trying not to have a meltdown when Aracely needs help cleaning up vomit in the bathroom. She kicks a stall door in anger, and it slaps me in the nose, but after the pain subsides and we’re sure I’m not going to bleed, she buys me a shot but still doesn’t say she’s sorry.
The bride and groom start making out on the dance floor, and I watch as Trace’s hand slips up his girl’s shirt. Dallas eyeballs me every time I look at Trace. I really feel like I’m going to end up in Dallas’s trunk someday.
I finish the dishes, clean up the bar, and take out a load of trash, leaning against the counter as the party goes on and the servers start dancing and chatting.
But every once in a while, I turn my head and look out the window. The house was dark for a while, but the garage door is back open and the light is on. He’s awake. Still there.
I don’t know why I worried. I’m reading too much into his behavior. He’s drinking a lot. It affects the appetite. And definitely his moods. That’s what his problem is.
I shouldn’t have tried to stop him from having sex with Turin on Halloween. Everyone else was having sex. Everyone was drinking. He needs to feel close to someone.
So why didn’t he come out tonight? Why doesn’t he ever go out? “You worked a full shift,” Army says, approaching the bar.
“Two full shifts, actually. You should go home.”
I face him, standing up straight. “My brother and sister are in bed, and if I go home, I’m legitimately scared my mom will have invited Jerome Watson over to ambush me.”
He breathes out a laugh, but he doesn’t ask me to clarify.
Did I tell him about Jerome Watson? I know I told someone.
In any case, he doesn’t ask me more.
“I loved how you described our house to your brother and sister.” His eyes gleam under his dark brow. “It made me feel pride again. Maybe the grass always looked greener everywhere else, or maybe … maybe I just needed to remember how to see the beauty in things. The little things.” He stares at me. “You make things pretty, Krisjen.”
I do?
He rises up. “We’re going to the strip club. You should come with us.”
“I’m a minor.”
“I know.” He grins. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. It’s not really my scene, but I think I might like to see you experience it.”
There’s a gleam of mischief in his eyes, and for a second, I’m not sure I like it. I’m a legal adult, but he’s ten years older than me. Macon would never invite me to a strip club. I’m certain he would consider it inappropriate.
I turn my eyes back out the window, seeing his light still on, something inside of me warming. “I think I’ll be jealous if I go,” I murmur.
“Seeing Trace watch other women dance?” he asks.
I shake my head, looking at him again. “Seeing all of you watch women dance.”
His smile softens, silence stretching between us. After a moment, he lowers his voice. “It’s my one night out. Dex is staying over at the sitter’s. You should come.”
Meaning, he has his room to himself tonight. I glance down at his bracelet like I might be able to tell if that’s the one I squeezed in my fist on the couch that night.
I thought it was Iron, but …
It wasn’t the same.
“May I ask …” I hesitate, but then just go for it. “Who is Dex’s mom?”
His eyes hood, the beautiful green turning gray. “He doesn’t have one.”
I open my mouth, about to rephrase my question, but he knows what I’m asking. If he wanted to answer, he would. “Sorry.”
“Me, too.”
I’m sure I could find out from Liv or Trace, but Army’s message is clear. He’s not talking about her.
He starts to back away. “You should come tonight.”
Everyone starts spilling out of the bar, hopping into cars with their open containers of liquor, and I kind of want to go. All the other women are going.
Removing my apron, I take out my tips from the restaurant and stuff them in my back pocket, following everyone out of the bar.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I call out to Iris, not asking if I can leave. The place is almost empty, and it’s her shift to close up.
I walk out into the parking lot, tires sloshing through puddles as people leave, and I catch sight of Army, stopping in his truck and waiting to see what I’m doing. Dallas is in the front seat, Trace and the girl in the back.