Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“What happens when he does something I can’t fix?” he asked his father.
Anton grunted under his breath. “Well, it’s not happened yet. Give him the benefit of the doubt, at least. It’s all you can do.”
But was it?
Demyan didn’t know.
*
Deciding he had made his truant, seventeen-year-old son wait long enough to be let in the house well past a time that was acceptable for him to be getting home in the middle of the week, Demyan pulled open the back door. He expected to find Roman waiting on the back steps as he usually did when he texted his father to ask to be let in when Demyan locked the doors on him.
Instead, he found Roman sitting on one of the chairs.
Lit blunt in hand.
The air stunk like weed.
Good weed, sure but still.
“Really?” he asked his son.
Blue eyes met his.
Roman grinned, pointing with a blunt in hand at the dark sky. “Can really see the stars tonight, Papa.”
So much for that lesson.
“Roman,” Demyan started, ready to explain to his son all the things he had already explained a million times over.
His son just sighed, pushing out of the chair. “Yeah, yeah. Fucking Avdonin, act right, stop scaring Ma ... hey, you want some?”
He offered Demyan the blunt.
And right then, he kind of did.
But not because he wanted to get high.
“Get in the fucking house,” Demyan snapped, deciding if he couldn’t do this kindly then he would have to be the asshole. “Swear to God I’m gonna put a bull on your ass to keep you in line if you keep this shit up.”
Roman nodded, obviously not believing his father for a second when he passed him by to step into the house, saying, “Right, okay.”
This kid ...
He would kill Demyan.
That was, if Roman didn’t kill himself first.
Because if this was what he did now ... what could possibly be next?