Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I felt it then, a tug that I don’t think I’d really felt since I’d first taken off on my own, leaving my family behind. We’d never been apart. Until I’d gone off in search of… everything. And yet nothing at all somehow at the same time.
That string that bound all of us. The one that used to be pulled so tightly. But now? Now, it was stretched almost to breaking.
I suddenly wanted to walk it back, to twist some knots in the weak spots.
“AJ is avoiding me,” I blurted out, watching King’s brows shoot up.
“AJ? Why?” he asked, shaking his head.
I exhaled hard, gaze sliding away.
“For chrissakes,” Kingston said with a strange, choked sigh. “You could practically be in a full fucking body cast, and you’re fucking the girl you’re rooming with?”
“To be precise, we’re not fucking,” I said, getting another head shake out of him.
“But something happened.”
“Something… small,” I said, shrugging, not wanting to share details because I had a feeling AJ would be mortified if I did. “And since right after… I’ve barely seen her.”
“How? You live together?”
“Apparently, she now has approximately twelve thousand errands she needs to run a week. Samson has been to the groomer twice. The second time, he came home with painted nails. She’s grasping at straws here,” I said, sighing.
It was a sad fucking day when a woman would take her dog to get his nails painted neon green just to avoid sharing a meal or conversation with you.
Kingston’s gaze moved out the window for a moment, lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out the right way to say what was on his mind.
He was a fuckuva lot better at that than I was. Than any of my siblings were. I guess that came with the responsibility of the feelings of a bunch of people you were in charge of.
“I get the feeling that… that AJ didn’t have it easy before she came to Navesink Bank. I have no concrete reason to say that. It’s just… a feeling I get based on how she’s reacted to some shit since she moved in.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Kind of put that together myself too.”
“Maybe she just needs some reassurance?”
“Of what?”
“That you’re not just trying to fuck her and leave her?” he said, then exhaling, “But that is what you’re going to do, isn’t it?” he asked. “So maybe you should just let her have her space.”
“Gee, thanks, bro,” I said.
“I love you, Atlas. But I care about that girl, too. You want to go out there and chase a different woman every night, that’s your prerogative. But those women know what they’re getting into, knows the deal. That’s probably not how things are with AJ. You’re playing house. It… complicates things. She’s probably confused. And trying not to catch feelings.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, seeing his point.
“And unless you intend to be more serious about her, leave her alone.”
With that, he pulled the car away from the curb, and leaving me to think on what he said.
Kingston was good with that. Giving advice with tact and thought, but that didn’t always mean it was an easy truth to try to choke down.
By the time Kingston helped me up over the hump leading into the Mallick house in my electric chair, I was swarmed by people.
The kids, always eager to say hi, to demand I let them scribble on my cast some more, were first. Then the sisters-in-law, asking me how I was doing, if I wanted to go here or there with them over the coming week.
Then, finally, my brothers.
“Still look like shit,” Nixon said, shooting me a smirk.
“Charming as always, isn’t he?” Reagan, his woman, asked from his side, rolling her eyes at him. “You actually look a lot better,” she said. “No more sling, huh?”
“Nah. I still have to baby the shoulder, but it’s alright. If I could just get this fucking thing off,” I said, gesturing toward my leg, “I’d be happy.”
“What’d the doc say on that?” Shane Mallick asked as he walked up, holding a beer that looked like a child’s toy in his giant hand.
Shane was a wall of a man. He owned a gym, and it was clear he spent a decent amount of time there when he wasn’t out busting kneecaps.
“He’s optimistic that I might have one or two more weeks in the cast before I go into a boot,” I told him.
“Full weight-bearing?” Shane asked.
“Yeah. Said I heal fast. Thank fuck, because I’m tired of not being able to move around.”
“Yeah, been there,” Shane agreed, nodding.
Being an active guy himself, he had to understand how much it was killing me to be so sedentary. I wanted to at least be able to walk around, even if I had weeks, or even months, of therapy ahead of me before I’m back to a hundred percent. Or as close to that as I could be after such a bad break.