Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Anything else you wanna tell me? I’m all out of relatives now, but you’re your father’s daughter. I’m sure you can think of something to make me feel shitty about.”
Is she fucking crying? If Summer hadn’t called, I could've fucking gone on without knowing and it wouldn't have changed shit in my life. Not a single fucking thing. Now I’ve gotta deal with shit I haven’t thought about in years.
“She was your mother!”
“Pick one, Summer. Are you trying to make me care enough to come, or stay away so Daddy doesn’t get mad? Maybe I should go. Aaron would shit a fucking brick.” Preacher and Devil eye me curiously, obviously impatient with me to finish up so they can figure out what the hell is going on. “But I think everyone would be happier if I just kept the fuck away.”
“Crash…”
Hearing her say my name in that soft, begging voice does something to me, that’s for fucking sure. It brings back that night when I told her I couldn’t take anymore. When we crossed the line, I learned her lips were as sweet as they looked. When she told me she felt the same and then chose that asshole and her fancy life over me.
Fuck! “Enjoy the funeral. Tell daddy to fuck off from me.”
I hang up, my head swirling with could've, should've, and a million other things warring for attention. I toss my phone on the end table next to my couch.
Devil pulls out a beer out of the fridge and tosses it my way. I snag it out of the air and twist the cap off, swearing as it fizzes out over my hand and drips on the floor. It tastes good, though, crisp and cool. I need it.
“Your mom?” Preacher eases back in his chair and watches me like a fucking hawk. He's my squad leader, and my friend. And I trust the fucker to give more of a shit about me than my own flesh and blood ever did.
“Yeah. Two days ago.”
“Fuck.” Devil puts his back against the wall, crossing one boot over the other as he watches me. “We gonna pay our respects?”
My first instinct is to say no, but it catches in my throat, unwilling to come out. Why? Am I actually considering it? “It'd be a fucking disaster if I went.”
Devil smiles broadly in anticipation. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, brother. I’m in.”
“Do you want to go?” asks Preacher. “Would this help you get closure, or just rip open old wounds?”
“Yes. No. I have no fucking clue.” I look around my quarters.
What would pretty little perfect Summer think if she saw me now? Blooded member of the Screaming Eagles. Drinking, fucking, living my own damn life surrounded by people who would take a bullet for me. It's not a big fancy mansion like she’s used to, but it’s real. Not that long ago the three of us had a girl in here and…
I down half the bottle and snort. My step-sister was always such a goody two shoes. She'd probably think I was going to hell and got exactly what I deserved.
Back when we were younger she said she wanted more out of life, but not enough, apparently. I was never like her. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stick to the rules and be the son Mom wanted me to be. Never mind the dick she married, who tried to beat it into me and ended up wearing out the stick.
Fuck it. Going back would be worth it just to spit in his botoxed face. That’s the kind of closure I can get behind. “You know what? Maybe I should go.”
Devil's grin widens. “Fucking disaster?”
I nod. “Fucking disaster.”
2
SUMMER
I hate everything about this. When my mother died, we limited the funeral to family and the local congregation, but for Vivian? Dad’s organized a freaking circus. Viv wouldn’t have wanted this, she…
No.
This feels like Grayson. Dad’s always been a showman, but he’s been leaning more and more on Grayson, who has ideas about expanding from cable TV to streaming and the internet. His changes are bringing in more money, so Dad has no problem making everything even more over the top than normal.
But I feel so alone.
Not one person acknowledges losing Vivian has been hard on me, too. I was the one taking care of her right up to the end. Vivian never pretended to be my new mom, but she’s been the one person I could turn to when things got hard. The one who always helped convince Dad to let me have a little bit of my own life, and took the brunt of his anger. Jacob—I guess it’s Crash now—asked if Dad hurt me, and I really wish the answer to that was a simple yes or no.
“You’re live,” one of the sound guys calls to me. “Say something so we can make sure the levels are good.”