Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“No, thanks,” Riven replied just as Betsy said, “That’s a damn good idea.”
“Grandma!” He sounded like an angry teenager.
“What? You need friends. Parrish is a good choice. He’s never been in trouble like that brother of his—or that father of his.” She gave Riven a pointed glance. “Or you.”
My gut tightened, reminding me that Betsy still thought her grandson had accidentally killed someone. Pain flashed in Riven’s expression before he schooled it quickly.
Betsy said, “I don’t hold the past against you. I know you hate what happened. I know you didn’t mean for it to go down that way, and I know you’re on the right track now, but that doesn’t change the past.” She looked at me. “I’m so proud of him. My Riven is a good man. He got tangled up with the wrong people, but all that has changed now.”
“I’m not perfect either,” I said in Riven’s defense. I had to say something, otherwise I would end up spilling the truth. He was right, though. Betsy wouldn’t keep quiet if she knew the truth, and it would be dangerous for her. “I’ve done my fair share of things right along with Rex and my dad. No one forced me to do them. It was all me. I was just lucky and didn’t get caught.”
“You’re both good boys. That’s why I think you would be good friends.” She faced her grandson again. “Parrish used to check on me when you were incarcerated. He’d come by to help with yard work, see if I needed anything from the grocery store and things like that.”
“It was the right thing to do,” I replied, refusing to look at Riven but feeling his hot stare on me. “This property is a lot to take care of, and people weren’t real nice at first.”
“People were mean to you because of what I did?”
I risked a glance in his direction, seeing muscles strain in his neck.
“It wasn’t bad. Just a lot of stares mostly, this being such a small town and all. Jerry’s family was still around back then, and they wanted to forget he was the one who hit you first, that you were just defending yourself. I always made sure to remind them.”
“Fuck that. You shouldn’t have had to do that.” Riven was practically vibrating with anger.
Betsy went over to him, ran her hand up and down his arm. “Like I said, we can’t control the past, so there’s no reason to spend so much time living in it. People are always looking for someone to blame. It’s a whole lot easier than looking in the mirror. I dealt with it, and now it’s over. Don’t keep living in that angry place, Riv. You’re better than that.”
I couldn’t help wondering if people gave Riven shit since he’d gotten out, but then, I had a feeling that outside of work, he spent all his time at home.
He nodded, his head turning slightly toward me. Am I a good man? the look in his eyes asked. But the question was not for me—it was for himself, and I didn’t think Riven would choose the right answer. He hadn’t deserved what happened to him.
“Your grandma is a smart lady.”
He scowled at me, his eyebrows bunching up beneath the snapback of his hat. It was cuter than it should have been. I’d never in my life seen Riven as cute. Hot? Sexy? All those things, yes, but not cute like he was while standing there with his grandma, who was two heads shorter than him, and giving me his best grumpy face.
“Are we cooking or what?” Riven asked, surprising me with his offer to help.
Betsy’s face transformed into what I could only describe as pure joy.
“Yes, we are. No sharing my secret ingredients.” She pointed to us.
The chicken was already on the counter. Betsy pulled out flour, cayenne pepper, and a few other ingredients for the breading. She added enough oil to her cast-iron skillet to give us a heart attack, letting it heat while she explained her tricks for the perfect fried chicken.
“Parrish, will you get the eggs and milk out of the fridge?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She mixed them together, beating them well before picking up one of the chicken breasts, dipping it in the mixture, then the breading, and setting it in the snapping skillet.
“I buy a whole chicken and cut it up. That might not sound like it makes a difference, but it does,” she explained cheerfully. “Why don’t the two of you get the veggies out of the fridge and cut them for a salad?”
Riven side-eyed me, clearly still not happy I was there, but I just gave him a grin. We washed our hands, and then Riven got everything we needed. Betsy rambled on the whole time we cooked. She barely paused for breath, and I wondered how someone who talked so much could be related to someone like Riven, who hardly said anything other than the word fuck. Even when we were younger, he was quieter than Rex. It was worse since he’d been out, though.