Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Honestly, I have no fucking idea. She said she’s a fan of combat sports.” I shrug. “Ready to go?”
He runs his hand over the back of his neck, suddenly seeming unsure of himself. “You looked good up there. Handled it well. I wanted to throw a chair at that punk.”
“Same.”
More neck rubbing.
“Bro, I love you, but I really want to get upstairs and see Molly,” I say. “What’s on your mind?”
“She’s still with the girls.” He runs his hand over his beard a few times. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
That’s a shift in conversation I didn’t expect. “For?”
He cocks his head like he’s annoyed he has to spell it out for me. “For giving you a hard time when you first came home.”
“I remember you checking to make sure I wasn’t dead several times.”
He huffs. “Yeah, but you know what I mean.”
“Ohhh,” I draw out the sound to a dickish extreme. “You mean the part where you believed a bunch of lies and bullshit about me cheating on my girlfriend? Or where you were mad at me about the way they portrayed her when I had no control over it? Or, or, wait a minute, is it because you never warned me that your orange-haired troll doll of a cousin was taking advantage of the situation by trying to date my girlfriend?”
Now he plows both hands through his hair and gives me a sheepish look. “All of the above?” He holds his arms out wide. “I know you and Remy already had your come-to-Jesus match back home so if you need a sparring buddy this week, I’ll volunteer.”
I bark out a laugh. I had way more anger stored up for Remy. “Tell me the truth, were you mad because you care about Molly?”
“Yeah, she’s my little McMuffin,” he says, showing off the teddy bear living under his gruff exterior. “She tried being all brave and shit when the show said all that crap about her, but we all knew how much it was messing with her head.” He closes his eyes. “And then that night. Holy shit. I hated seeing her so heartbroken. Then she fucked up her car.” His lips twitch. “Although, I was a little proud of her for that one, honestly.”
“Asshole. She could’ve gotten hurt.”
“As for my cousin,” he continues, “I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t like it either, honestly. And I made that really clear to him and Remy when I found out about their arrangement.”
“You should’ve told her.”
He tilts his head. “Come on. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but he does like her.”
“He’s a fuckin’ creep,” I grumble.
“Anyway. When I watched that reunion show, Griff.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Jesus Christ. I think it finally hit me how much lying and absolute bullshit you went through and I’m sorry if I made it worse by giving you a hard time.”
I swallow hard, completely unprepared for this today. “Why you tryin’ to get me all emotional during fight week?”
His head snaps up and his eyes widen. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“I’m just messing with you.” I open my arms and pull him in for a tight hug, thumping him on the back a few times. “Thanks.”
“I’m really fuckin’ proud of you, Griff.” He holds out his hands. “And you gave me all that shit for manifesting when we were locked up.”
I snort, remembering his nightly ritual of wanting us to visualize our ideal lives or some shit. “No I didn’t. I manifested the shit out of my Chevelle.”
He snorts with laughter. “True. Did you think when we were fighting for our lives at Castle Correctional you’d end up here?”
“No, I figured I’d end up buried in a ditch in the woods.”
“I think we all did.” He cocks his head. “You ever think of looking up Ollie or any of those detention officers and paying them a visit?”
“Sometimes.”
“Karma’s been too slow for my taste.”
We’re wandering down a dark path I can’t afford to travel this week. “So you’re volunteering to spar with me, huh? Underwood’s gonna love you.”
His solemn eyes meet mine. “Whatever you need, brother.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Molly
When I return from shopping with Shelby and Ella, Griff’s trying to conquer an ice bath Underhill wanted him to sit in for a few minutes tonight.
That didn’t sound like anything I wanted a part of, so I stay in the bedroom and try on the dress I bought for Saturday night.
When Griff finally emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, I turn away from the mirrored closet doors I’d been staring into, trying to decide how I feel about the dress.
“Does this make me look like a fighter’s girlfriend?” I slide my hands over the smooth little pieces of silver sequins covering the dress. “Or a mob wife?”