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)
I lower my eyes, a memory playing in my head. “You know, I saw your parents in town once,” I say, feeling my collar suddenly chafe my neck. I don’t undo the buttons, though. “Just once, though. They didn’t cross the tracks much.”
Army stands at the sink, looking out the window into the garage, but I know he’s listening.
“Your dad was on his bike.” I glance at Trace. “And he pulled up to the Harbor Point Fishing Boat, stopping at the curb.”
It’s an old houseboat, sitting on a circle of land right in the median on Main Street.
I smile, remembering. “She’d been waiting for him. She came in close, bowed her head, and kissed him. He slid his hand up the back of her thigh.” I glance at Macon, but he still stirs the ice cream in his mug. “You must’ve been at least twenty or so at the time, because I was old enough to remember.”
He still doesn’t look up, his chest barely moving as he breathes.
“That long married, and they were still like that. But then when she pulled back, he slapped her on the ass, and she smiled before climbing on behind him.” I laugh to myself. “I asked my mom why he hit her and why she liked it.”
Dallas is frozen, unblinking. A whisper of a smile curls Trace’s mouth.
I tell them, “My mom said, ‘Make no mistake, honey. She’s the boss of him.’ Years later, I understood.” I soften my voice. “Women love being owned by a good man.”
I wouldn’t do anything Jerome Watson told me. But I would for someone.
“Someone I can’t keep my hands off,” I say more to myself. “Someone who climbs on top of me and pins my arms above my head before we’re both fully awake in the morning. Without a word. Slow and quiet. I’m the first thing he wants.”
No one moves. Army barely breathes.
“He’s late to work all the time,” I go on, “because I make the mistake of walking around in my underwear, and now he’s hard and needs his wife on her knees.”
We can hear the children playing in the distance outside, as the wind kicks up and blows a napkin on the table.
“I used to want to do certain things with my life when I was younger,” I tell them, “but now I don’t know what the hell I want, except just to be in love with someone and love our family. To be with people I care about and have great days and a football team living in our house, helping other people make memories and making sure we all smile ten times more than we cry.”
I don’t give a shit about tomorrow. I never did. I just wanted to be good for people.
When I rise, Trace rises with me. I stop, looking at him, but even he doesn’t look like he knows why he did it. I take my plate, and he follows my lead, both of us carrying them to the sink.
But Army is there, stopping Trace short and taking his plate. “You guys go. I’ll clean up with her.”
Macon sits back in his seat, gaze still down, and Trace looks back at Dallas.
“Now,” Army orders.
Trace casts a look at me, like he wants to take me with him.
He leaves my side, and after a moment, I hear Dallas’s chair move away from the table.
The oldest is still there, because Army doesn’t give him orders.
I veer around Army, setting down my plate, but he grabs my face in both hands. I gasp, forced up on my tiptoes as he presses our foreheads together.
“It’s going to be one of us,” he tells me. “Not Jerome Watson. You’ll be ours, or I’ll make sure we all fuck you before we give you back, so nothing compares. So you always regret leaving us.”
I can wonder if it’s my son he’s playing Daddy to …
I look up into his eyes, feeling his hard body against mine. Army?
He presses me into the fridge, hovering over my mouth as his fingers work my shirt.
What …
In three seconds he’s peeling my blouse off my shoulders, the breeze coming through the windows caressing my breasts. I bring my arms up, covering myself.
“We’re going to keep you,” he whispers. “Will it be Iron? Trace? Who do you want?”
He kisses me, wrapping his arms around my waist, but it only lasts a second before I hear my name.
“Krisjen …”
Army goes still, and so do I. I turn my face, seeing Macon at the table not looking at me.
But he speaks. “Come here.”
He sits there. I don’t move.
“Come here,” he tells me again.
My heart drops into my stomach, and I don’t even think. Keeping my arms over my breasts, I go to him, Army’s hands falling away.
I walk up to Macon’s chair at the head of the table, and he stands, rising above me. He tips up my chin, looking down at me, and I can already feel his arms around me. So tight. His breath on my temple and the warmth of his chest.