Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
My best friend’s little sister is tougher than she looks, but at her core, she’s still sweet and innocent, and she’s always going to be that way. She showed up at my doorstep willing to do what her brother asked, no matter how much of a sacrifice it would be. She married me, even though it wasn’t the kind of marriage Jace wanted. I know I’m nothing like she anticipated. I know I frustrate her. I know she doesn’t understand me and probably doesn’t even like me. I hold her at arm’s length to keep her safe, and I always will. Through it all, she’s kind. If I had gotten hurt tonight, it would have hurt her even more.
I still have no idea what Jace was thinking, trying to give me a partner in this life when I’m the most solitary creature that was ever put into existence.
“Shh.” I pat her back. I’ve never been more awkward. Even half hanging over the railing and caught by my pants with my arse hanging straight out, I was less maladroit. “It’s all good. You saved my ass.”
Literally.
I try not to think about the fact that I’ll have a few bruises where she grabbed me. It’s an unholy mental picture, followed closely by others. There’s Aspen—pure, beautiful, and innocent. And then there’s me with my bloodstained hands.
I immediately release her and become so tense that she backs up. As soon as her hands aren’t doing a death grip on my shoulders and neck any longer, I scoot back and scramble to my feet, tugging my ripped jeans up with me.
“I’ll get changed, and we’ll go to the kitchen and have a cappuccino.”
“What?” She stares up at me, a total are you insane expression taking over her frown. “Coffee won’t fix this. And it’s the middle of the night. No one has a cappuccino at this hour.”
“I have cappuccinos at this hour.” A gentleman will offer a hand to help her up, but I can’t touch her right now. I shouldn’t touch her ever. Not with all the blood on my hands.
She gets up on her own, frowning at me in a pair of fuzzy blue pajama shorts and an old faded T-shirt with a cat butt on the front. Butts seem to be the theme tonight. “Jace wasn’t…he…never mind.”
“I know,” I choke. I reach for the ladder and get it standing up straight. I’m going to take it down the stairs before anyone else nearly dies falling over it or off of it. “I know he wasn’t like I am.”
Maybe he didn’t think his soul was stained from the shit we did in the name of our jobs and in the name of freedom. I’m not saying all of it was legit because I never just blindly followed orders, and I would have gotten out a long time ago if it was like that. It wasn’t. But I have done things. I’ve done things in order to save my back and the backs of the men at my left and my right. Jace did things too. We all did. It was impossible to be that highly specialized of a soldier and not do things.
“Was your grandpa from Ireland?”
I’m so surprised that I look back at her. “No. His parents were. They made an ass ton of money investing in land and real estate, and my grandpa continued the trend. My dad didn’t do much of anything except go to college, get married, and live off family money, but I bet he would have been roped into it eventually. Why?”
“No reason. I was just wondering. Your last name and all.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, when was the last time you slept?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She crosses her arms and gives me a bossy look. I have to say, I like it on her. The sassy strength. She needs it if she wants to get over what she nearly saw happen just now. “You know, laid down on a bed and spent a good few hours in it.”
I wish to god that I can add the bedroom set I’m using to the pile to donate. All the bedroom sets, actually, especially the one from the master bedroom, which belonged to my grandpa. I don’t go into that farging room if I don’t have to. For now, I might not add it all to the pile. I’ll leave Aspen’s for eleven more days—the amount of time she has left here—and then I’ll clean this place right out and maybe order something I like. Or maybe not. I don’t need much. A big, comfy chair will be about the extent of it.
“I don’t need to sleep much. Once something gets ingrained in you, it’s hard to get it out,” I tell her.
“Not drinking a bunch of coffee really late in the day helps.”