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)
She shrugs. “I have plans tomorrow.”
“With who? Torch?” I gesture toward the door. “What the fuck are you even doing with him?”
Her jaw tightens but she won’t even look at me. “None of your business.”
Her denial’s a match to my own temper. This isn’t how I saw tonight going. At all. I know she’s pissed but she won’t even let me explain?
As she reaches for the door, I slap my palm against it, keeping it shut. “Everything about you is my business.”
“Not anymore.”
“Molly, I know you’re mad—”
“I’m not mad.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
No. She’s not. She’s putting up a brave front. I know her. How she protects herself from all the people who’ve hurt and left her. When she’s upset, she either freezes or explodes. I’m usually the one who talks her through it.
Except, now I’m the one who hurt her. “We have to talk this out,” I try again.
“No, we really don’t. Seeing you fuck some random bimbo you’d known for five minutes told me all I needed to know.”
“It wasn’t me!” I roar, hating myself for yelling at her. “For fuck’s sake. Are you kidding me? You know me better than that.”
Her mouth twitches with uncertainty for a second. Brief, but I catch it.
“I thought I did,” she finally says.
This isn’t getting us anywhere. I step away from the door and open it.
“Let me walk you back,” I say even though inside I’m screaming, back to where—Torch’s arms?
“Okay.”
At least she’ll let me do that much.
She steps out first. And what do you know, Torch is waiting in the shadows. Leaning against the building next to us. He pushes away from the wall and goes to Molly, murmuring something against her ear.
Eraser’s gonna have to kiss his cousin’s ass goodbye. This motherfucker’s dead.
Satisfied she’s okay, Torch turns his glare on me. Remy’s dead wrong. Torch’s feelings for Molly are way more than friendly.
I pull my shoulders back and glare down at him.
“You fucked up, Royal.” He stops in front of me and meets my death glare with a smug chin lift. “Nothing you say to her can fix what the whole world watched you do.”
“You better watch yourself, speaking on stuff you know nothing about,” I warn. My voice and hard stare don’t waver. But his words saw open a hopeless void in my chest.
The truth doesn’t matter.
He grunts at me and turns away, draping an arm over Molly’s shoulders and steering her away from me.
He’s right.
No matter what, people will always think I cheated on my girlfriend. They “saw” it with their own eyes. They’ll call Molly pathetic for taking my “cheating” ass back. Strangers will judge us and our relationship. Even people we know will gossip about us.
It doesn’t matter.
Molly’s all I care about.
Us against the world. She said that once.
How can I make her believe in us again?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Molly
How is my body still moving?
How do I have any blood left to roar through my ears?
I’m pretty sure I left my heart back there.
My feet keep moving forward through the wet, dewy grass, but the ache in my chest keeps begging me to turn around.
Torch takes my hand. Guilt crawls over my skin. What am I doing?
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Sure.” I could choke down a burger. Anything to try and appear normal.
He steers me toward the patio and his uncle’s grill.
Uncle Pax smiles wide when he sees me. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”
“Pretty good.” I force a weak smile, wishing I’d opted for a full face mask tonight. “I like the costume night.” I tap my bunny ears. “It’s fun.”
Or it was fun until Griff showed up.
“Ella’s idea.” He grins wide. Eraser always jokes that his uncle likes Ella more than him. “School’s good?”
“So far.”
“Well, eat a burger or two, you’re gettin’ too skinny.” He drops two greasy patties on a plate and passes it to me.
My stomach tightens as I stare at the food. How can I eat when my stomach’s twisted into one giant knot?
Torch carries our plates. He tries to move toward one of the picnic benches near the back. Nope. That’s where Griff and I sat on my eighteenth birthday. If I sit at that table I’ll unravel, for sure.
“How about there.” I point out a table with two chairs closer to the bleachers. “So we’re not interrupted.”
“Sure.” He sets our plates down. “I’ll be right back.” He clasps my shoulder. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” I slide into the metal chair, wincing at the chill on the backs of my legs.
I nibble on the plain burger and squishy bun, barely tasting a thing. My gaze scans the racetrack. Not for Griff. Nope.
Did Remy know Griff would be here tonight? Why didn’t he warn me?
All sorts of muddled feelings converge in my chest as I spot Griff crossing the asphalt, heading toward the stands. He didn’t bother to put his mask on again. Why was he wearing it in the first place? To ambush me? As if some cheap mask would stop me from recognizing the man I loved with all my heart.