Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Kellus pulled John up, trying to ignore the strong smell of alcohol on his ex’s breath as he hurriedly arranged his clothing back in place then hoisted his ex’s frail body over his shoulder. John had lost so much weight in the past six months he was just a shell of his former self. If his ex didn’t get a grip soon, there wouldn’t be anything left to salvage. He was killing himself with all this shit. Kellus reached for the wall to steady himself, ignoring the hateful and vulgar names being yelled his way as he left the room.
His pace never faltered through the house. He made quick time as he pushed open the front door and was out of the filthy drug den within minutes of arriving. Instead of trying to get John in the front passenger side of the vehicle, he opened the back doors to the van and dumped him inside. He was so tired of this game.
Kellus slammed the back doors shut and rounded to the driver’s side. In the beginning, he’d honestly believed he could help John beat this, and he’d tried everything to get John back on track. Spent thousands of dollars on rehab, therapy, and anything else John needed to help kick his habit. Hell, he’d even forgiven John’s cheating on him.
As he jumped inside the van and shoved the key in the ignition, he swore to himself he’d never do this again.
Never, ever again.
Chapter 2
Kellus slid the terry cloth across the clouded mirror before wrapping it around his waist. The soft fabric had done little more than leave a trail of beaded water on the surface, but it was enough to see his body’s image in the glass. Like he had done so many times since his diagnosis, he stood in front of the bathroom counter and checked his appearance in the mirror.
On the outside, he still looked the same, healthier in fact. His personal trainer would be proud; the definition they’d been working for was beginning to show. His chest and stomach were cut. Turning to the side, he gave himself a critical eye. Any lingering fat he’d held on to had disappeared—that hadn’t taken long and he liked that a lot.
His attention moved to his face as he turned back to the mirror. The close-trimmed beard was his only act of defiance, and that wasn’t much considering everything he’d been through in the past year. John had always hated facial hair, and truthfully, at one time, he had too. But the look had grown on him. It was a change, something different, which was what he really needed at the moment. The dark contrast of his beard made his blue eyes stand out and his lips appear fuller. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. Whatever it was, he would take it. Keeping the short whiskers trimmed and cleaned required a fair amount of work, but his beard also gave him something to hide behind, and he wasn’t ready to let that go.
Just like always, his hair snagged his attention and he pushed his fingers across his forehead to sweep the longer strands away from his face. Luckily, he’d worked with muted earth tones yesterday. At least if he’d dragged his hand through his hair in his usual nervous habit, it couldn’t leave vibrant obvious paint colors behind. Like it had so many times before.
When a giant yawn slipped free, the little bit of peace he’d managed to permit himself this morning began to quickly fade. Yet again, he had an important day, and he was already tired due to rescuing his ex. He forced his eyes away from the scowl reflected at him in the mirror and reached for his hair products. Any thought of dealing with John made it harder, actually almost impossible, to maintain the happy, positive place he always tried to achieve. Positivity and confrontations never went hand in hand. Without allowing himself to dwell, Kellus went through his process of grooming before heading to his closet. He quickly sorted through his clothes, pulling out a button-down and a pair of jeans. He got to wear real clothes today, not old, worn out painters’ clothes.
He dressed quickly, picking through the little bit of jewelry he had left—things that John hadn’t gotten his hands on. He slid the braided leather straps over his wrist, added the necklaces, and went back to the mirror to check himself out. He again swept the long pieces of hair farther back on his head and decided this was as good as it was going to get.
What he’d been avoiding, now faced him. Before he left the bedroom, he pocketed his wallet and cell phone, then found himself repeating a simple prayer: Please let him be gone. Let him have been embarrassed, tucked tail, and slunk out of the house. Kellus didn’t want to face John. And hopefully John felt the same.