Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Not if he has a good friend who told him to bring an extra pair,” Shan responded smoothly.
I scrunched my nose and felt my forehead crease. “Why would you do that?”
“Because the fucker grabbed a gun last minute,” Shan said. “That can only mean one thing. He was joining the party.”
I flicked my gaze to West, and I didn’t know if he was pretending to concentrate on my hands or what, but we were definitely not done talking.
“I’ll go put out your change of clothes in the kitchen.” Shan walked away.
I kept my stare fixed on West’s unreadable expression.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
He hummed and slipped the wipe between my fingers. “I am. To be fair, I only brought the gun on a whim. Shan insulted my choice of car, and just when I was about to call him something colorful, I realized it could be a good idea to bring your gun—in case I wasn’t too late already.”
Wait, did that mean— “You were at home? I thought you’d be golfing.”
“It was too cold.” He threw one wipe on the floor, then grabbed a new one. “We arrived at the club, looked at each other, and promptly drove home, where Giulia’s leftovers and whiskey waited.”
And Finn called me stupid? I didn’t need cold weather in order to leave a golf course.
“So you grabbed my gun, and…then what? In the event that you wasn’t too late, you’d what, kill them? You planned this before you got here?”
He let out a breath and finally made eye contact. “My main plan was to prevent you from killing them. But I’ve been struggling with my own desire to pull the trigger for a little while. I ranted to Shan about it today.”
Oh.
“Nothing I haven’t already expressed to you,” he assured. That did feel better. “He helped me realize a thing or two about gray areas. And, frankly, how I no longer have the energy to care about being a hypocrite. If someone I love is harmed, I will want the perpetrators to suffer a much harsher punishment than if a complete stranger gets injured.”
I nodded slowly, understanding where he was coming from. He’d been even more by-the-book when we’d first met, and I could imagine it was difficult to reconsider everything you knew.
“Coming here didn’t turn out the way I expected, though,” he admitted. “I was… In the car, I was pretty much bracing myself to act if I had to and then deal with whatever aftermath that followed, but when I saw you with them…” He furrowed his brow and brushed the wipe over my knuckles. “I don’t know, a pressure within me simply lifted. I wasn’t exactly standing there with a gun to the head of…fuck, just about anyone. They were the scum of the earth, not to mention half dead already. You put a picture next to the definition of rearranging someone’s face. I didn’t feel a damn thing. I might as well have fired the bullets into a wall.”
I didn’t know how fucked up it was that I wanted to smile at his venting, and I didn’t care.
We were gonna be okay. We were okay. Because we evidently shared the same thoughts on this.
“You know, we could go to the shooting range sometime…” It would be a much more interesting hobby than golf, that was for sure.
“We could do that.” He flashed me a smile. “I’m sure I can teach you a thing or two.”
What the fuck? The insults were just raining down today.
“I didn’t ask for an instructor,” I said. “I’m pretty good already.”
“Yes, but you’ve seen my trophies. I was once one of the best in the state.”
“In your category,” I added, ’cause that shit was important. “When you were fifteen.”
“And sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen.”
Oh, whatever. That was still a million years ago.
CHAPTER 23
West Scott
“How’s your hand?” I murmured.
He yawned and hitched his leg over mine. “Sore.”
I bet. It was a bit red and swollen, and he had a few minor scratches.
I kissed his knuckles carefully before returning his hand to my chest.
Then it was my turn to yawn, and I glanced out the window.
We had to get out of bed. I’d hoped calling in sick today would’ve granted us a nice Friday where very little happened until we picked up the children from school. Alas…
“Am I supposed to be freaking out about yesterday?” I asked.
If anything, my mind was at utter peace. I didn’t know if I had anything left to process. We’d spent most of last night talking, and nothing had changed. We were glad those motherfuckers were gone, and hopefully we could move on now. The guilt was certainly not there.
“Not yet,” he responded drowsily. “It’s too early. We asked my folks to take the kids to school for a reason. We can sleep another hour, papi.”