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)
And slowly, I start to spin, holding her eyes the whole time.
“What are you doing?” she asks, stumbling as she tries to keep up.
“It’s our first date.”
We’re dancing.
I twirl her faster, around and around, again and again, and when I dip her fast and low, she finally smiles. Uncontainable and uncontrollable.
I guess she’s sleeping over.
13
Krisjen
“I need to get home,” I tell Army.
He pulls me by the hand, up to his house. “Just let us fix your car before Macon wakes up and sees we just cost him five hundred more in tires.”
Which he’ll have to pay for, because it’s one of his brothers’ fault—again—that they’re ruined.
Trace and Dallas hop out of the truck, and Army releases my hand, heading over to them. But I grab his hand again. “I can’t crash here tonight.”
He stops and looks at me, but I don’t know what I’m trying to say. He squeezes my fingers. “Sleep in Liv’s room,” he tells me. “Your brother is over with Santos’s kid. We’ll do your tires now, and you can leave in the morning.”
He walks off, and I start to protest, but then he barks at Dallas before he reaches the front door. “Where the hell you going?” Army asks him.
“To bed.”
“Help us,” he orders him as Trace lifts the door to the garage and they start rolling out fresh tires.
But Dallas just laughs under his breath and disappears into the house.
Army clenches his jaw but lets him go, and I tuck my wet hair behind my ear. Rain kicks up mud on the ground, and I pull off my heels, bare feet in a puddle.
“Army, stop,” I call out. “I can afford a tow truck and my own tires. I can’t stay here.”
“I’m not going to try to fuck you!” he shouts.
Trace stops and turns to me wide-eyed, and I just close mine for a moment.
“Not tonight, anyway,” Army adds. “Get out of my hair and go to sleep.”
Embarrassment washes over me, and I can feel myself sweating. A tickle of a smile curls Trace’s lips.
I hold up my middle finger, mouthing, “Fuck you.”
He pouts, using his own dialect of sign language while mouthing, “But I love you.”
Asshole.
I spin around and head inside, throwing my shoes into the living room as I search for a phone. Mine is still in my car, but one of them always seems to leave one behind in the house. I rummage through the living room, checking chargers, and then into the kitchen, but the light over the stove and the one in the hallway bathroom suddenly go out. I look around for any other sign of light.
The electricity has died. I look outside the living room window, seeing that the lights on the street and the ones across the road are dark, as well.
“Krisjen!” Army shouts. “Check the breakers!”
Nope. I don’t live here.
I find a lighter and flick it to life as I head around the pot of water on the kitchen table that’s filling up from the leak in the roof. I walk upstairs instead, going for Iron’s phone, which is probably still in his room. He couldn’t take it to prison.
I stalk down the hall, his door dead ahead, but a sound hits my ears, and then I notice something under my feet.
I lower the flame and see water on the floor.
What the hell?
I hold the flame above my head, but I don’t see any leakage from above.
And then I hear the sound again. The crying.
Dex.
Peeking my head into Army’s room, I see Dex standing in his crib and walk over, making sure he’s okay. I touch his head full of straight brown hair and feel his pajamas, making sure everything is dry.
I caress his little cheek. “I’ll get you something to drink, buddy.”
Leaving his door open, I grab towels from the closet in the hallway and lay them over the water.
Then I notice where it’s coming from. I walk toward the bathroom, my feet stepping on the stream that flows out from under the door.
I hesitate a moment, knowing something’s not right.
I push it open.
Macon sits on the floor, his back against the tub, and the sink is lying on the tile. Water from the broken main gushes out of the pipe, and I can smell the vomit. My stomach coils. What happened?
He has one knee propped up, his arm resting over it, and his head turned away. I drop down in front of him, checking for blood or any sign of a broken bone.
He just sits there, though. Eyes open. Calm breathing. “Krisjen!” Army calls for me.
I don’t move.
A cup from the sink rolls over the water, and I pick it up, holding it under the stream spilling from the pipe. I fill it and then twist the valve, shutting off the water. I set the cup and a clean hand towel on the little table next to the tub.