Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“It’s three on a Tuesday.”
Daryl shrugged. “Like he gives a shit. Ducky’s happy to hit up a bar any timea day or night. You know that.”
Of course he was.
Without another word, Tate turned and strode from the trailer.
“You’re welcome,” Daryl called after him. “Happy to help, asshole. Maybe next time you need something, just, you know, ask insteada tryin’ a murder me.”
Tate ignored him, jogging down the steps toward his idling truck.
“Don’t tell him I gave him up,” Daryl called from the doorway.
Tate flipped him off before slipping into the truck and backing out. He could hear Daryl shouting something else, probably about the overturned planter, but he kept driving.
And driving.
And driving.
And driving.
He passed the studio, his office, and the bar where Ducky would be guzzling his fifth beer. It would have been easy to jerk the wheel right, turn into The Nail’s parking lot, and go inside. Ducky would be drunk and wobbly, and beating him within an inch of his life would be as easy as singing the ABCs.
But he didn’t do it.
Liam’s voice echoed in his head, pleading with him to stay and choose their relationship over settling a score.
Tate had chosen to walk away.
“Fuck.” He pulled over to the side of the highway and jammed the car into park. “Fuck!” he screamed as he beat his open palms against the steering wheel.
How did he do this? How did he look at Liam, touch Liam, love Liam every day, and then look at himself in the mirror, knowing he didn’t do shit to avenge him? The thought of his lover suffering any pain worse than a hangnail stirred a homicidal frenzy in him.
Was Liam right? Would it be enough to report the vandalism to the police? How long would he return to jail for a parole violation? These questions came too little too late. He could have asked them an hour ago when he’d been standing outside with Liam instead of losing his cool.
He slumped forward, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel. Second by second, his fury faded until he was left with a hollow gut and a heavy heart.
“I fucked up,” he whispered.
Not the first time. Liam had forgiven him before. Would he again?
He straightened and shifted back into drive, pulling onto the highway with a whirling brain. He drove for hours through the flat countryside, around and around, going nowhere past familiar ranches and landmarks he’d passed hundreds of times before. But he barely saw them.
Eventually, his neck ached from sitting atop tensed shoulders for so long. He took the next right turn, finding himself at a familiar creek—the site of his first date with Liam.
“Jesus,” he whispered. Driving there hadn’t been a conscious choice. It was as though his mind shut down, letting his body steer him there on autopilot. “I should not be driving.”
He killed the engine and climbed down from the truck as he made his way to the creek bank. The air smelled sweet as always, tinged with corn and herbs. He sat then laid back, staring up at the fluffy clouds. Back when he and Randy were kids, they’d stare at the clouds for hours, trying to make out the shapes and characters. They didn’t have money for fancy toys, and their mom was either at work or high, so they’d spent a lot of time outside making their own fun. As much as they’d pissed each other off, as often as they’d called each other stupid and drove each other crazy, they’d been brothers. They’d been on each other’s teams. They’d had each other’s backs.
And now Randy couldn’t be near him without wanting to knock him out.
All because Tate was in love with Liam.
Since the day Randy found him with Liam, Tate hadn't taken the time to sit with the encounter and process what had happened. He’d allowed Liam to comfort him, then jumped into the excitement of living with the man he loved.
For over a decade, he’d feared the very thing that happened when Randy discovered he was gay. He’d known how Randy would react. Hell, he’d anticipated the violence, hateful words, and rejection. None of it had been a surprise, yet the pain of losing the one family member who’d given a shit about him was astonishing.
It hurt like hell.
Would Randy go the way of Ducky? Would he take his hatred so far as to go after Liam? Maybe he already had. Who’s to say Ducky acted alone? The motherfucker would love to recruit Randy in his plot to rid the town of Liam, and Randy was just ignorant and hateful enough to do it.
The sun warmed his skin, feeling like a comfortable blanket. The only thing that would feel better would be Liam by his side.
But he’d gone and fucked that up.
He shut his eyes and tried to focus on the warmth of the sun, the prickle of the grass beneath him, and the babbling of the creek.