Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Fair enough. Twenty is nearly old enough, but what sort of party? You sound … different.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve been talking to a boy back home.”
My belly drops slightly, but I silently warn myself to grow the heck up. It’s not like I’ll hold a grudge just because I’m not the oh-so-special reason for her returning.
“He’s arranged to get me, and a plus one, tickets to this underground place. I don’t know much about it. I’ve just heard whispers of it at other parties.”
“So it could be anything?” I mutter.
“Exactly!” she beams, and I can’t help but laugh. There’s nothing that better shows the difference between us than this.
She hears that it could be anything—an unknown adventure—and she’s immediately ready to throw herself into it. I hear that, and all I want to do is hunker down with a good book.
“Don’t go all quiet on me,” she says.
“What if it’s weird?” I mutter.
“I’m happy if you want to do something else,” she says, but I can hear it in her voice. She really wants to go to this party.
“How many days are you coming home for?” I ask.
“Just a few.”
“Let’s do the party,” I say right away.
“What, really?” she says, with surprise in her voice.
“As long as I can figure it out with Lacey … and work … and as long as Mom is okay, then yes, really.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just need to arrange some stuff, like I said. Maybe a little bit of adventure could do me some good. Who knows? I won’t be drinking, though.”
“You know I don’t care about that.”
Usually, it’s because it just doesn’t appeal to me, but I’m not so sure anymore. If we went out together, and I was experiencing all this stress, maybe a few drinks would stop the demons chasing each other around my head. Luckily, I don’t even have to get my willpower involved. I’m too broke.
Still, seeing Riley, a mystery party, a new job … Life isn’t good, exactly, because it never will be when Mom is still suffering so badly. Yet, I can let myself smile, if only for a little while, until my mind goes back to that moment again, Tristan’s silhouette shuddering in the window. I wish I could get it out of my head.
Or is that a lie? Is it comforting me somehow?
I take my blanket into Mom’s room tonight and curl up in the chair beside her bed. It’s almost one a.m. Mom is sleeping soundly, as soundly as she can, anyway. With her machines beeping in time with the wheezing of her breaths, it’s almost like she’s part of it all.
I wake up early the next day. I want to make a good impression. Heading into work, I tell myself I’m not concerned about whether or not Tristan is looking at me and if he’s secretly watching me from his office. I’m not saying I’d want that to happen, but the thought of it does send these interesting tingles dancing all over me.
They’re tingles I’ll ignore. I won’t let myself get all twisted up in my head or let my attention fix in the wrong place. Anyway, I don’t see Tristan all day. A small voice whispers, “He’s avoiding you,” like he has any reason to do that. He did me a favor. He’s a good guy, an ex-Marine, a decent person.
It doesn’t mean he’s having the same thoughts as me.
CHAPTER NINE
TRISTAN
Tank grunts as I lay a heavy right hand into the pad, twisting my body to add extra torque. Sweat pours down my body, my shirt drenched and sticking to me. When the round buzzer goes off, I growl, “Keep going.”
“That’s ten minutes, bro,” Tank says, then quickly raises the pad when I lay in a double jab, right hook combo.
“The fight’s tomorrow night,” Tank goes on, following my movements, shifting from side to side with his eyes fixated on me. “You expect to learn how to fight in a day?”
“You saying I don’t know how already?” I smirk, ducking into an overhand right, then blocking when he answers with a quick left hook.
“No, that’s my point.” Tank stalks me around the room as I match his tempo, firing shots from my back foot. “Where is the fight, anyway?”
My smirk slides right off my face. This is the third time he’s asked this. Maybe if he thinks he slips it in when I’m tired, I’ll be more likely to answer.
I shake my head, waving him off, and he lowers his hands. “It’s that sort of deal, is it?” he says sourly.
“Tank,” I grunt.
“I know, I know,” the big man says, a grumbling note in his voice. “It’s still tough, T. I’m doing my best to clean this city up.”
“The stuff I do, Tank, it’s … not what you think.”
I sit at the edge of the upstairs gym. The cops own it, but it’s often empty, which is a bad sign. Tank agreed to come here on his day off and help me work the pads. My body feels good, my skills focused. I just wish there wasn’t this thing called morality nibbling at my heels.