Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
"But—" starts Lyle, and Nate makes a chopping gesture to cut him off.
I look right into Honor's fiery expression. "Fine. We'll take payment for the roadside assistance at the next session." Then I set a course for the front of the house, my keys in my hand.
"No, I want Nate to drive me," I hear her say from behind me.
"I'm driving. Hurry up. I fucking hate waiting."
The sooner we're done with this bullshit, the better.
13
HONOR
LOSING A GRIP
The tension in the car is ridiculous. Kylian drives with just one hand on the wheel, the other a balled fist in his lap. Nate rides beside him, glancing at his brother every so often as though he's worried there'll be another outburst. Lyle is next to me, but his gaze is fixed out of the window and a restless energy vibrates from him as though there are a million things that he wants to say to me but none of them would be approved of by his brothers.
In my chest, a twisted bundle of feelings wars for dominance. Indignance at Kylian's misplaced anger and distrust. Sadness at the unhappiness I can sense in each of them. Longing for a time when I could talk and laugh with each of them without these barriers built of suspicion.
I feel as though I'm floundering in the dark, trying to get through this week so that I can fulfill the terms of the contract, enjoying being with them and hating myself for it. The end of our time together nudges at the edge of my consciousness with the promise of both relief and panic.
I couldn't have handled a month, but with only a few more days on the horizon, there's not enough time.
Enough time for what, I ask myself?
Enough time to cut through this atmosphere and find a way to deal with the past. Enough time to help these men who are trapped in the clutches of something I want to see them defeat.
"You live here?" Nate asks, looking up at my building as Kylian brings the car to a standstill exactly where the GPS has indicated.
"Yes," I say, reaching for the handle.
"You're not going in alone," Kylian says. He's out of the car before I can object, and Nate and Lyle follow their brother.
I study them before I reply. "I'm fine. I've lived here for five years."
Lyle huffs as though the thought of me being in danger in this neighborhood pains him.
"We'll walk you to your door," Nate says before Kylian has a chance to rage again. I think he's worried that Kylian's sharp tongue wounds me. He doesn't realize that with every cutting remark and every biting line, I see the war that is being fought inside his brother.
"If you feel you have to," I say.
Using my key to open the outer door, I cringe at the overwhelming smell of cooking that lingers in the stairwell. Someone has also left a bag of trash outside their door, too lazy to make a special trip to the dumpsters around the back. I walk quickly past, taking the stairs to the second floor, not wanting to risk the elevator.
When I push the key into the lock, I turn to find all three men staring at the plain green door. Do I want to invite them in? Would they even want to come in?
Maybe this isn't about my safety but about their need to see my space, to invade more than just my body. We're supposed to meet at Club Scarlet later, but I don't know if they'll want to after this.
There's not enough time, my mind whispers.
"Do you want to come in?" I ask.
"We need to go," Kylian says firmly, but Lyle takes a step forward, and so does Nate. Looks like big brother has been overruled by curiosity.
The apartment I used to share with my mom is small, with two bedrooms, a single bathroom, and an open-plan kitchen family room. We decorated it as much as the owner allowed us to so it's fresh and clean, with a dark couch, bright cushions and a small square table and chair set. Even though I feel completely naked bringing them into my home, I try to pretend I'm comfortable with it all. Tossing my keys onto the console by the front door, I spin to find them all staring at the unfamiliar place.
"Can I get you a drink? I think I have juice or water?"
Kylian takes a step forward, his eyes drawn to pictures of me and mom that are lined up on a side table. He picks up a silver frame that shows us lying on the grass in a neighborhood park, our golden hair overlapping against the greenery. It was taken about a year after we left Montgomery House, and mom had finally got her smile back. I don't miss the twist of his mouth as he places the frame back down again.