Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Ally is nothing. It’s what she’s always done. She hangs around us like a fly does to shit. It’s nothing, never has been. I thought you would know this, but then I forgot you were new.”
“So if that’s true, what? What did you want to talk about?”
He exhales. “I don’t fucking know, Madi. Jesus.”
“Call me when you figure it out.” I go to stand, when his hand catches mine. I look at him and he stands, towering over me. “All I know is that I fucking hate when Carter has his hands on you, and I’m not familiar with this feeling.” I’m guessing this is a shit time to bring up his ex, so I swallow my nosy questions.
“But?” I ask, because… I don’t know why. I’m a girl with fully functioning lady parts, and Bishop is hotter than sin, and that’s all I got.
“But this can’t ever work, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. I’m not used to not getting what I want.”
“I see that.”
He chuckles, his finger running down the side of my face. “Fuck, kitten, you have no idea the kind of crazy shit you have me feeling.” His smile falls and his jaw tenses. “But we can’t.”
“Why?” I whisper, looking to his mouth. “Why can’t this happen?”
“That’s the shit part,” he replies. “I can’t even tell you why.”
“Then you already know this discussion is over.” I’ve come to realize there are secrets upon secrets, and no one is telling me anything. I’ve brought it down to it not being any of my business, but it’s getting old real fast. I’m not one to pry into other people’s business, but these secrets he, Nate, and the guys have are starting to itch at the back of my brain.
“Yeah,” he replies, looking down at me and stepping backward. “I just wanted you to know that I wish it could’ve been different between us, and shit is about to get worse.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, as he walks back to his car and gets into the driver seat. “Me too.”
I go back to my room, slamming my bedroom door to find the girls snuggled in my bed and watching Netflix. “We’re fucking going camping.”
“I JUST WANT YOU TO be careful, baby,” Dad assures me, loading up his third round. He points toward the cutout target, then squeezes the trigger, emptying out.
I point toward mine, closing one eye and zoning in to the bull’s-eye. I squeeze the trigger on the pistol and fire. The kickback isn’t as bad as it should be with someone light like me firing a Desert Eagle, but it’s Daddy’s, and he’s had me shooting this since I started out. It may sound dangerous to some people, but our home has always been a strong advocate at exercising our second amendment rights, and aside from that, we love to hunt deer. I don’t own a pistol; I own shotguns, and use them often.
“I’ll be fine, Daddy.”
He looks at me worriedly, and we both remove our protective glasses, waiting for our targets to come up. “I don’t like Nate and his friends.”
I roll my eyes, unclipping my target man and seeing I shot within range. “Daddy, you don’t like any boys.”
“No.” His tone changes, becoming stern. “Madison, I’m serious. I don’t like those boys.”
I take my grin away from my amazing shots and look toward Dad. He hardly ever uses that tone with me, and it sobers me some. “Okay, Dad, I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” He smiles again and then looks at my target. “How’d you do?”
Walking into my bedroom after seeing Dad and Elena off again, I flop down onto my bed, mulling over my thoughts from today. After Bishop left last night, Tatum and Tillie ended up crashing in bed with me halfway through a Sons of Anarchy episode. Tatum was bored out of her brains during episode one, but Tillie and I wanted to watch it. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I slip it out, sliding it unlocked and answering. “Hello?”
“I’m almost home. Come out when I beep.”
“Why?” I slowly rise from my bed.
“Because I’m back to babysitting duty, so you have to stay near me.”
“Yeah…” I shake my head. “…about that. I don’t think my dad actually put you on babysitting duty, Nate. The man doesn’t like you very much.”
“Fuck your dad,” he mutters.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Get out of the house and come down when I beep, or I’ll drag you down over my shoulder. And just so you know, Hunter and Brantley are here.”
“Fine!” I blurt, hanging up my phone and tossing it onto my bed. I walk into my bathroom and let my hair trail down to my tailbone before shoving on a NY baseball cap. I’m still in my yoga pants and tight tank from shooting, but I slip out of my running shoes and put on a pair of Air Max 90s. I’m picking up my phone from the bed when Nate beeps from outside. Taking the steps two at a time, I walk out the front door and pause.