Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I self-consciously tugged the tee down. I furrowed my brows. Lucky seemed to be concerned for me. His apparent concern didn’t dampen the panic crawling up the edges of my throat. I’d kept it at bay, but I realized I couldn’t fight it for much longer. I didn’t need to lay any more parts of myself lying around this place, an anxiety attack would shatter me in this moment.
Be strong.
“Lil?” a sharp voice penetrated my confusion and caused relief to ripple through my body.
Lucky stepped aside, his head turning to where Bex stood in the doorway. Her arms were crossed and eyes narrowed on him.
Even though I guessed she’d just gotten out of bed, she looked good. Her black hair was messed in the bed head look, thanks to her choppy layers that dusted her shoulders. There was a bright blue streak along the front of her head. The color changed routinely. I guessed she was still wearing last night’s eyeliner, but it still looked good. Her white ripped jeans and cropped tee showed off her body.
I watched in amazement as Lucky’s eyes took her in with hunger in his gaze. Well, not amazement really, she was hot, and he was a renowned ladies’ man.
She was having none of that.
She pushed off the doorway, glaring at him. Taking my hand, she gave me a worried glance before directing her anger at Lucky, stepping in front of me and right in his grill. That girl had no fear. It would be the death of her one day.
“You keep your biker mitts off her. I don’t know what you fuckers have done to her already, but if it’s anything bad, I’ll be coming back here with Molotov cocktails. Capice?” she hissed, not intimidated by his hard stare, his size, his muscles, or the general air of danger around him.
She didn’t wait for his response before she dragged me out the door as gently as she could. Before we reached the gravel forecourt, she turned to me, thrusting flip flops I hadn’t noticed she was holding. She took my wedges.
“Put these on, babe,” she said softly, her eyes darting around as if she was expecting a surprise attack.
I did as instructed. “How did you know I’d need these?” I asked in amazement.
She raised an eyebrow. “This is far from my first rodeo, girlfriend. Though, I know it’s yours.” Her brows furrowed and she resumed dragging me to the beat up hatchback we shared. Funds didn’t allow for us to both have a car.
“Fucking bikers,” she muttered under her breath.
Once we were safely in the car and had the compound in her rear view, worried eyes darted to me.
“Want to talk about it?”
I looked out the window. “Not really.”
I saw her nod in my peripheral. “Just need to know, did the fucker hurt you?” Her voice was ice.
I didn’t move my gaze. “No,” I whispered, “that’s the problem.”
Two Days Later
“Cancer?” I repeated in a tortured voice.
My mom smiled a sad smile, squeezing my hand. “Yeah, baby. Not the best news I’ve had.”
I gaped at her, tears welling in my eyes, refusing to believe this. “No, no. They’ve made some kind of mistake. Doctors do that all the time, take out the wrong organ, mix up babies. This is wrong,” I declared firmly.
My mom was calm. “As much as I admire your distrust of the public system, they are right this time,” she said, her voice light.
I shook my head, a thousand thoughts dancing around in it. I’d only just arrived home, Mom had called me and asked me to come home for dinner. I had sent her a text two days before, explaining I was going straight back to Tasman Springs, lying about an assignment I needed to get done.
I’d assumed she wanted to grill me about my night with Asher, as I had been dodging any contact for two days, wallowing in pity, unable to handle having to provide the details I knew Mom would demand. I was bracing, rehearsing it, reopening wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.
Instead, she told me this.
One little word tore through every inch of me.
I stared in her eyes, the vibrant ice blue ones with little to no wrinkles around them. The only lines that were there were a result of eleven years of happiness, of laughter. The horror that she endured for years before that was nowhere to be seen on her face, those scars lay down somewhere, I knew. Her beautiful blonde hair was yet to be streaked with gray, and she had it bound in a braid to the side of her head. She was wearing her usual array of colors and textures. She didn’t look sick. She looked as she always did.
“When d-did you f-find this out?” I stuttered, grasping at what this meant.