Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “It’s just what I hear.”
“Is that why you’re stalling,” I give him a pointed look, “your own wedding? Because from what I hear, the bride-to-be seems pretty eager for it.”
That was kind of a low blow, I admit.
Because it’s one of the things he doesn’t like to talk about. In fact for as long as I’ve known him, he hasn’t wanted to talk about how his father – before his death – had arranged his marriage with one of his friends’ daughters. Maple Mayflower, I think her name is. He was fourteen and she was barely out of kindergarten but their families thought it was okay to decide their future without their say so.
I’m also aware that now that they’re both of age and should be married, he’s the one who’s putting it off. Although like his dislike of his job – something that I found out today – I don’t know the reason for it. I mean it could be he’s pissed at his father for dictating his future in this way.
But I think there’s more.
I have a feeling.
I also have a feeling that he doesn’t dislike Maple or is unaffected by her like he wants everyone to believe. Maybe because I’m good at reading people but I know that every time Maple’s name was mentioned, back when we were in high school, he’d get a look in his eyes. A look that said that there was something that he felt.
In any case, it’s none of my business.
And I shouldn’t have brought it up.
“Touché,” he says, once again choosing to keep his secrets to himself like me.
Sighing, I admit, “Sorry for dragging you out here but I’m not feeling like chess anymore.”
He nods. “Me neither.”
“You headed home?”
“Office.” He shrugs. “Got some paperwork to do.”
“My sympathies,” I quip.
His lips twitch. “You off to watch some more game tapes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, mine too then.”
With that, he gets up from his chair and leaves. And I do the same.
I shouldn’t be in Bardstown at all.
The reason I came was because this was the one night I had off and I wanted to be in the same town as her. And the reason I chose The Horny Bard was because she’s always telling me to get a life, to go hang out with the guys, my twin brother, and he’s here. Not that I’m going to actually mingle with them or that she’ll ever know I’m doing something that she wants me to do, even if the bare minimum of it but still.
It somehow makes me feel close to her.
And that’s the only way I’ll let myself feel close to her.
Because I’ve already put the plan – of finally giving her what she deserves – into motion. Ever since we came back, I’ve started to withdraw from her. I have to be in New York for the team and she had to come back to Bardstown because of her classes. So we already are in different places.
We touch base every night though. But only because I made a promise to her.
On the night of her engagement when I found out about her mother’s abuse.
I have to take a breath and think about her twinkling laughter over something I read to her the other night in order to calm myself. In order to not hunt that woman down and choke the life out of her.
Every night I call her around the same time, and I make sure that she’s okay. I make sure that her monster of a mother hasn’t gotten to her.
So far she hasn’t and she’s not going to either.
Because when I talk to Shepard after the game, I’m going to tell him about her mom and we’re going to figure out a permanent solution to keep her away from her mother.
I’m almost out at my car in the bar’s parking lot when I see something that sucker punches me in the center of my gut.
My twin brother.
With a girl.
A girls that’s not her.
He’s at a random truck and he’s got a girl pushed up against the door. He’s bent over her and no, they’re not engaged in anything illicit but from the looks of it, they want to.
Or at least he wants to.
He’s awfully close to her, looming over as if he wants to engulf her. Looking at her as if he wants to eat her alive.
I know. I can understand.
Because I look at her the same way.
I look at his fiancée the same fucking way.
The fiancée he is clearly not doing any of these things with.
The fiancée he claims to love.
Even though I understand what’s happening, it still takes me a couple of seconds to find my bearings. It takes me a couple of seconds to recognize the roar in my ears, the tightening in my gut. The heat on my skin.