Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Colton steps into my side, and I instantly curl into his chest. “Thanks,” I murmur, curling my arms around him as he holds me against his chest. “I wasn’t exactly expecting that today.”
“It would have been better had you not provoked him,” he grumbles. “You're just lucky that Christian called me when he couldn’t get through to you. He panicked, thinking something was about to go down.”
“Nic would never hurt me,” I tell him.
“Right,” he says with disbelief. “Just like you thought he’d never kill your father or lie to you. Nic really isn’t the guy you’ve always believed him to be.”
“I know,” I murmur. “Just let me pretend for a little while longer. It’s easier than knowing the real Nic is a monster who gets off on other people’s pain.”
Colton rolls his eyes and starts pulling me toward the front of the school where his Veneno is parked. “Like you can talk. You get off on my torture all the time.”
I shove my elbow back into his ribs, unable to help the laugh that bubbles from deep within my stomach. “That’s different, and you know it.”
“What can I say?” he questions, shrugging his shoulders as his hand trails down my back until it’s cupping my ass. He gives it a tight squeeze. “Do you wanna go and get off on my torture now?”
My, oh my. It seems my day is already starting to turn around.
I grin up at him, my eyes sparkling with excitement. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 30
I barge through the door of the pool house on Friday night and come to a screeching stop as I find Mom filling every moving box that she could possibly get her hands on. I gape at her in horror. What the hell does she think she’s doing? I knew the whole getting married thing meant that she’d be moving in with Roman, but to start packing without even giving me the heads up … holy hell, I was not prepared for that.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, walking into the pool house and feeling my heart beginning to grieve for how much I’m going to miss her when I can’t just walk into a room and find her smiling back at me.
“Just getting a head start on the packing,” she tells me, climbing up onto the kitchen counter to reach the top shelves, oblivious to the world of panic currently soaring through me. Am I seriously going to be living without my mom? Usually, the kid gets to decide when they’re ready to move out, and the parent cries about their baby being all grown up and moving on. Not the other way around.
Fuck this. I don’t like it, but damn it, I was the one who told her that she should follow her heart. What in fresh hell was I thinking?
“Wha ...why. What do you mean?” I demand, my arms flailing about as I stare at her unbothered back. “You’re not supposed to be going anywhere until you get back from your honeymoon?”
“Oh, I know,” she says, grabbing the vase that sits in the top of the cupboard, the one she’d received from her mother the year before she passed. “Here, grab this for me,” she says. “I don’t want to drop it.”
Is she kidding me? Does she have no idea that the essence of her womb is currently having a moment?
I let out a huff and walk through the kitchen until I have the vase safely in my hands. I place it down on the counter, being extra careful, knowing how special this is to Mom. “Umm … hello? This is a bit extravagant for just ‘getting a headstart’ don’t you think? Your honeymoon is for like … I don’t know. Is it five weeks long? Six? You can pack when you get home. Better yet, I’ll pack up while you’re gone, so you don’t have to worry about it. You’re making it too real.”
Mom glances down at me and finally gets a look at the devastation on my face before bursting out into uncontrollable fits of laughter, which only has my jaw dropping to the ground. “Excuse me,” I scoff, watching as she tries to climb down from the counter. “I don’t find any of this funny.”
“I’m sorry,” she howls, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I shouldn’t be laughing. You’re the leader of the West Side Wolves, and you’re getting your panties in a twist because Mommy is getting organized. Surely you must see the humor in that.”
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest while trying not to pout my bottom lip. “Nope. I really don’t.”
“Come here,” she laughs, pulling me into her arms and holding me tight. “I’m your mother, and I birthed you after seventeen agonizing hours of labor with no pain relief. So I’m entitled to laugh at your quirky little ways.”