Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"I had to go through the prospecting period, remember? Turns out, none of the older guys want to spend their time hammering on pipes or cleaning out drains anymore. They left that up to West and me. I learned quick."
"Are these cinnamon rolls?" she asked, her eyes going wide when I nodded, like she'd been in some parallel dimension for eight and a half years where they didn't have such things at pretty much every fast food or coffee shop in the country.
"Don't worry. I didn't want any," I told her as she plowed through two and reached for a third.
"I wasn't worried," she told me over a full mouth, making my smile stretch wide.
I'd been too distracted by the strangely ravenous way she was devouring her food to notice much else until she took a break from shoving food into her mouth to reach for her coffee once again.
Then, well, then I noticed something.
Her arm.
Sure, she had strong arms. She always did. Muscled, but long and lean. But that wasn't what caught my attention.
Oh, no.
It was the puckered scar right near her left shoulder, still pink, but not new.
I knew that scar.
A couple of the guys in the club had that scar.
An old bullet wound.
"The fuck is this?" I heard myself demand, reaching out instinctively, moving to grab her upper arm to get a better look.
It was the wrong move.
One second, I was standing there with her arm in my hand.
The next, my arm was arched up between my shoulder blades, my head was slamming into the counter, and some curved fucking knife thing was pressing into my throat.
"Jesus Christ, Ferryn, what the fuck?" I asked, too stunned to think better of speaking, making the knife slice into my skin slightly. Superficial, but stinging.
"Fuck," she hissed, releasing me all at once, scuttling backward so fast that by the time I turned, she was by the couch.
My hand reached up, sliding over the wet on my neck, glancing at the blood before looking up at her.
"Don't grab me," she warned. But there wasn't anger there like you'd expect after such an aggressive display.
No.
There was a haunted sound to her voice, something that made a shiver course over my skin.
My hands moved out instinctively, palms facing her. "My bad, Ace. I was just surprised. I didn't mean to grab you like that."
She nodded a bit tightly at that, moving back to the table, tucking the curved blade under the book where it must have been in the first place.
"When the fuck did you get shot?"
"Um... four, no, five years ago," she told me, tone conversational, indifferent, as she picked up a sleeve of hash brown circles, popping a few into her mouth, slowing down a little.
Five years ago.
She'd gotten shot when she was something like twenty years old?
How? Why? By whom?
I wanted to know, but I somehow understood that if I asked, things would hit the fan again.
We seemed to be getting on alright. I wanted to keep the peace as long as possible. If I wasn't careful, I might scare her off before her family even got to see her. And then, well, then I would be in some deep shit.
"You got more of them?"
"More of what?"
"Scars. And not from falling out of trees or some shit like that."
"Yeah, I have more of them."
Again, no inflection.
Like it was no big deal.
"Ace, about last ni..."
"No," she cut me off, shaking her head.
"No?" I repeated, finally reaching for my breakfast sandwich as well.
"I think we can both chalk that up to being off last night," she explained.
"I think we both made some valid points," I added, not willing to say that I was wrong because I knew I wasn't.
To that, I got a shrug as she finally put her food down, focusing on her coffee.
"Is Iggy still in Navesink Bank?" she asked, not making eye contact.
"She... yeah. Yeah, she's still here."
"Is she mad at me?" she asked, and it was the first time I heard a hint of vulnerability in her.
"I think mad is the wrong word. I think Iggs was worried and maybe as time went on, a little resentful. She loves you though, Ace. You know she wants to see you."
"I don't want to screw with her life."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. I know her. And I know what you two had together. Yeah, it's been a while. And you two have grown. You will need to get re-acquainted. But I know you two will fall back into it."
"I wish I..." she started, trailing off when her phone dinged on the couch.
Considering the fact that she cut herself off from everyone for her old life, it shocked me when she shot across the room, reaching a bit frantically for her cell. I couldn't help but wonder who was in her life now to make her jump-to so quickly.