Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Nolan swears the SOB is back in Florida and that we have nothing to worry about and that we have time as well as space to get out of the red and into the black, but my history with him tells me otherwise.
My history with him tells me that it’s a mistake to have hope.
To believe I’ll live.
That we’ll live through the terror that’s to come.
I don’t wanna doubt that we’ll survive, but the odds aren’t exactly in our favor.
“Why are you so anti me making you a birthday cake?” I question on a stab of the sausage crumble, not wanting more thoughts of my stalker to sour my pleasant mood.
“Why are you so pro?”
“Maybe because it’s something I’ve never gotten to do before?” The confession is accompanied by me poking at other fallen pieces from the dish. “Or maybe it’s because it’s something I never thought I would get to do?” Additional scrapes at the scraps are made. “Or maybe it’s something I wanna do to show you how much you mean to me? How grateful I am that you were born? That I get to have you in my life?” Realizing I’ve rambled too much is what pushes me to lighten my tone back up and meet his gaze. “Or maybe I just need something to do while you two are busy checking out headlights and bumpers for ten hours tomorrow.”
“We’re not going to that.”
“You are.”
“We aren’t.”
An unhappy grumble out of me appears as I shove the bite into my mouth; however, rather than continue the argument more in-depth, our attention gets redirected to where Nolan is sauntering through the front door for the first time since he left for work in the middle of the night. “Fuckme, I don’t know what aches more, my feet or my balls.”
Kipp thoughtlessly snickers during the rising to his feet while I cheekily snip, “I know which one I can make ache more.”
“Really, Rabbit?” He tosses his keys on the nearest countertop. “Is that anyway to greet the men in your life?”
“One of the men in my life.”
The sound of the fridge shutting is followed by the boyfriend who didn’t go to work today strutting across the room to hand him a cold beer. Once it’s in his possession, Nolan grunts, “This.” Kipp flops onto the edge of the couch I still haven’t been near since finding that note. “This is a hero’s welcome.”
“And what exactly makes you the hero?” I playfully poke. “You didn’t make me dinner.”
“I brought home the items to make you dinner.” He uses the edge of the coffee table to pop off the cap to the glass bottle. “I should at least get partial credit.”
“Giving you any credit would be a bit of a reach, Mutt.”
“I’ll always take a bit of reach, Rabbit.”
The cocky wink he shoots me immediately receives a gag. “Why are you like this?”
“Why would you want me any other way?”
His counter unfortunately threatens to make me smirk, something I hide behind another forkful of dinner.
I wouldn’t ever want him to be any other way.
Or The Kid.
They’re perfect for me just the way they are…even if I know I’ll never be what’s right for them.
Because how can I be?
How can being the reason they have blood on their hands and have to look over their shoulders and scrutinize every stranger they come across twice as hard be anything other than a fucking burden?
A literal nightmare.
“Why do your feet hurt?” Kipp cautiously inquires.
“Did a lot of walking.”
“You’re a tow truck driver,” I continue to tease. “That’s a lot of sitting.”
“But being a boyfriend looking at lumber yards and home improvement stores in between gigs is not.”
His odd announcement prompts The Kid to investigate further. “What are you trying to build?”
“A bed.” He indulges in another swig. “A new bedroom.” Nolan shrugs prior to toeing off his boots. “Maybe a whole fucking new place? Who knows.” His lack of eye contact during the describing only adds to its warmness. “Whatever y’all want, we’ll do.” The shoes get kicked a short distance away. “I just know that we can’t keep sleepin’ on my tiny ass mattress forever.” Finally, he lets his gaze meet ours again. “My nightstand makes a shitty fuckin’ pillow.”
Kipp lightly chuckles, “Yeah, well, I feel like fucking Hobbs trying to fit into a goddamn Tin Lizzie.”
An additional grunt of amusement escapes Nolan. “You definitely know how to fingerpaint a picture, Kid.”
“Should we put it on the fridge?” Snickers leave our partner, yet a glower graces Kipp’s expression. “What do you think, Mutt?”
“I think you should crawl over here and suck my cock.”
Stopping my teeth from sinking into my bottom lip can’t be done.
“I think she should crawl over here and sit on it.”
Light whimpers bump into my teeth as they seep into the thickening air.