Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that roll down my cheeks. I barely remember any of that—it’s all a blur now. “That should’ve made you hate me even more. I had no right to be like that.”
“You loved Momma. We both did, even though we inherited our taste in bad men from her and a lot of her boyfriends made our lives hell. But Momma was still our rock, even when she got sick.”
“She died because of me.”
“She died because of those piece-of-shit mobsters. You did what you thought was right to try to save her life. You didn’t know how everything would turn out.”
“Maybe not.” I lean my head back and stare at the porch ceiling. “I still think you should’ve hated me.”
“Like I said, I wanted to, but you were such a mess. I figured you were torturing yourself enough for both of us, and I think I was right. Maybe you still are.”
I let out a long breath and wipe the tears from my face. I don’t deserve pity right now. In the days and weeks after Momma died, Kady took care of me the way I take care of her now. She dragged me out of bed, made me food, got me going in the mornings, shoved me outside and made me live a little, and cuddled up in bed with me at night when I couldn’t sleep because of the dreams. Now I do all that for her and more, but I don’t know if I would’ve gotten through those horrible days and weeks and months without my little sister.
And she should still hate me.
“We can’t keep going over it,” Kady says and runs her fingers through her hair. “Momma knew she didn’t have much of a chance without some money and you went through hell to get her what you could. It’s not your fault everything turned out the way it did.”
“I wish that were true.”
“If you want forgiveness, here you go, here’s some forgiveness. You’re forgiven, big sister.”
I smile at her. “Thanks, I feel lighter already.”
“You’re thinking about all this because you’re back in that Nolan asshole’s world. And honestly, you should be thinking about it. Mostly because you need to be careful, and you better make sure he’s paying you on time.”
I laugh at that as the sound of something banging against the wall of drunk Colleen and drunk John’s trailer thuds into the night. That must be the shoe, right on time. Beyond that, a low rumble thunders down the road, growing louder and louder, a motorcycle growling in the night and coming closer. The bike navigates through our small trailer park neighborhood and parks out in front of our place, and a sick, sinking feeling lodges itself in my stomach.
Kady wants me to be careful, but how’s that going to work when I’m somehow in the middle of a gangster war?
“Jaxson?” I ask and Kady shakes her head.
“Not him.”
The guy kills the bike and gets off. He removes his helmet and my heart twists: it’s Jaxson’s cousin, Craig. He looks better in jeans and a denim jacket with his hair pulled back as opposed to his boxers. He studies us for a second before pulling something from a leather holster on the side of the bike: it’s the shotgun he had that morning.
I stand, panicking. “Kady, get inside. Get inside right now.”
But Kady doesn’t listen. “Craig Gray? Is that you?” She gets up and faces him, hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing at my house with that little baby gun on your shoulder?”
Craig doesn’t smile. He looks at her then glances at me and nods. “Evening, ladies.”
“Don’t give me that evening ladies shit, Craig.” Kady tilts her chin up, staring him down. “What are you doing here?” Kady crosses her arms and glares. I move to the top of the steps, ready to put myself between my sister and that shotgun if it comes to that, but Kady’s not backing down and Craig’s not pointing it in our direction, not yet at least.
“I’m not here for trouble, ladies. I only brought this in case that’s what I found.” He pats the gun affectionately.
Kady laughs and says, “No, asshole, you found two girls sitting and drinking on their porch and yet you still had to compensate for that teeny tiny little biker dick of yours by bringing your baby little pea shooter. Now tell me, what the hell are you doing here?”
Craig looks at me for a long moment like he’s exhausted by Kady’s shit and is looking for an ally, but honestly, I’m pretty impressed by Kady’s courage right now. I only glare back, trying to size him up. I think of him standing outside his house again in those Confederate flag boxers holding that gun aimed at Nolan, and I feel that fear roll through me again, except this time Nolan’s not here to save the day.