Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
To that, Aunt May had nothing to say. Really, what was there she could say? She dropped the box down on the other then stormed away, her low heels clicking on the linoleum floor in the same way they had when she had first walked into that child services building the night we met her.
Poetic, that.
"Girl, prison changed you. Made you all wise and shit," Thad said, giving me a small smile as we moved inside, closing the door in what felt like a very final way.
"Wise," I snorted, shaking my head. "This morning, I almost brushed my teeth with triple antibiotic," I told him with a self-deprecating laugh. "When you came out, it was bad, wasn't it?"
"Well, it wasn't all rainbow flags and happy tears, boo. But I didn't expect it to be anything other than what it was. We always knew she was close-minded about this shit."
"Was it as bad for Colson?" I asked since he was in a talking mood.
"Only after he made it clear he wasn't going to put a ring on it. You never met Jelly's mama, but she was a hot mess. Always stepping out on him. Always screaming and throwing shit. He was smart not to shackle himself to that. I mean, you know Colson, he planned to take care of both of 'em. But he had no plans to make it official. Which, clearly, was the right move."
"She hasn't had any contact?" I asked, my heart hurting for Jelena, even though I knew Colson and Thad had done everything in their power to make sure she didn't feel that loss.
"Last Colson heard from her, she was out in California chasing movie stars like she has a chance of getting a sugar daddy or some shit. Not even any birthday cards for Jelly."
"What does she say?"
"Jelly?" Thaddeus clarified. "She doesn't really bring it up. But she told me once that she thinks her daddy needs a mommy to make him happy. Don't get that sad look," he demanded. "You know they are both happy in their lives."
"But they could be happier."
"In a way, everyone could be happier. Except maybe you," he added, giving me a sly look. "You are all glowing and shit. If I knew love would be so good for the complexion, I might have tried it years ago."
Virgin - 2 months
"I'm not scared," Freddie taunted, hopping around on her toes like some stereotypical boxer in a movie, head dipping up and down, hands curled into fists.
A mix of cardio kickboxing classes with her brother and a few trips to Lo and Janie's gym where she'd taken some lessons from Pagan had her get this idea of trying to fight me in her head.
"I'd rather you sparred with the girls," I insisted. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Lo said I'm not going to get better if people treat me with kid gloves."
I imagined Pagan had been careful with her. Not because he objected to going full-force with one of the women, but because he knew I would be pissed if he did with my woman.
"And since someone sent out some mass text or something about not wanting any of the guys to bruise me, I haven't been allowed to really practice with a guy. How am I going to learn to defend myself against one if no one will practice with me?"
Alright, that was a fair argument.
"You won't need to defend yourself," I shot back. "I got you."
Freddie's arms dropped, her eyes going small.
"Okay. I know it is like... forbidden to even say her name anymore, but from what I hear, there was not a single girl more trained or more protected than Ferryn. She was still taken. Held. Forced to endure who-knows-what. I'm not saying that you can't - for the most part - protect me. But I want to know how to protect myself in case something ever happened when I was at work. Or alone in the apartment. Or walking home after getting my hair or nails done. I don't want to be at someone else's mercy because no one would teach me, Ty. You have to admit that this lifestyle comes with certain risks."
I was painfully aware of that fact.
I had never given the risks a thought before.
It was part of the life. It was part of what drew men to it. The excitement. The unknown. The chance to need to defend yourself at any given moment.
If we weren't - at least in part - adrenaline junkies, we'd have pursued normal jobs.
Accountants.
Electricians.
Physical education teachers.
And it was all well and good when all we had to worry about was our own asses, those of our brothers who also willingly, happily went into the lifestyle.
Everything changed when it was no longer about you and your brothers.
I'd been raised up to be accepting of the fickle hands of fate.