Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
It was her turn to gag this time.
“So you don’t swallow, I take it?” she teased.
I rolled my eyes. “The one and only blow job I attempted to do ended almost before it began. It was this guy that I met during college. We were both a bit drunk, and you know that precum stuff that comes out before? Well, I tasted it and nearly threw up on him. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever tasted in my life. All hot, salty, and thick. Bleck.”
Hastings was laughing as we pulled up to her house.
“I’m going to have to write that in a book,” she teased again as she unbuckled. Neither of us were the least bit surprised to find her husband—I wasn’t claiming him as my brother until he apologized for being mean to me—was waiting outside for her. “Oh, boy. He looks a bit upset, doesn’t he?”
I snorted. “Just tell him that you found me walking on the side of the road and got distracted. He won’t want to talk about me, so then he’ll change the subject.”
She sighed. “Y’all need to make up. This is getting ridiculous. Contrary to what you believe, they’re still asking about you. All the time. They do it subtly since I’m the only one speaking with you at the moment.”
She rolled her eyes hard.
“Like, I guarantee you he’s going to ask about this car. He’s going to want to know why you’re not driving yours. Then he’s going to be pissed that he didn’t know you were in a wreck. Then he’s going to call your parents and tell them, and then I’m going to have to listen to them all bitching and complaining that they’re not hearing this firsthand from you since you refuse to talk to them.”
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s not that I refuse to talk to them. I think they owe me an apology,” I admitted. “Mark wasn’t that great of a guy. It’ll be okay that he’s no longer in the family.”
She sighed.
“Oh, holy shit.”
I blinked. “What?”
“That’s the truck!”
I looked to where she was pointing and felt my eyebrows raise. “That’s Malachi’s house, right?”
Malachi Gnocchi was an enigma to me. I’d been introduced to him, but he was barely ever there at any of the functions that I went to when it came to my brother and the SWAT team.
Now that I knew who he was, I knew what the poor Sonic chick was talking about with him being intimidating.
“When did he get a new truck?” I asked. “Didn’t he have a new one not too long ago?”
“No, that was Saint. Malachi always drove his motorcycle.” She paused. “What do you think my husband and him are talking about?”
Malachi had wandered over to talk to Sammy, and I grimaced.
“I don’t know but get out,” I said. “I need to go back home.”
Hastings giggled. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place?”
I snickered. “You’re just going to run half a mile to my place and expect to go to Sonic again?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”
The problem was, I didn’t either.
As I drove away a few minutes later, I couldn’t help but stare at the man—Malachi—in my rearview mirror.
I went to bed later that night thinking about Malachi, and I woke up thinking about him.
The problem was, I couldn’t figure out what, exactly, it was that drew me to him.
CHAPTER 7
I’m a tac-ho.
-Sierra to Hastings
SIERRA
Sierra,
Have you ever wondered why we continued to write each other two years after your class ended?
I can’t say that I don’t love writing you, so I hope you continue well past when you think it’s smart to stop.
I’m being deployed again. This time to parts unknown—so that means that I can’t tell you where. This area is special.
All of your letters need to be sent to a different mailing address. I’m giving you my friend’s place in California where we’re officially listed as being ‘stationed.’ I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to reply to the ones you send, but I’ll still write you some and post them from where I’m going.
This deployment feels a lot different than I’m used to.
Like it’s a bigger one or something.
I hope that what I’m thinking is about to happen doesn’t actually happen.
It’s like a huge rock is settled in my gut every time I think about where we’re going and what we’re going to be doing.
How is work at Taco Hell? Did you start college yet?
Gabriel
• • •
The next morning the doorbell rang just as I’d let Axe outside to go pee, and I had to hurry across the house toward the front door to answer it.
When I got there, it was to find an older couple around my parents’ age, that looked pissed, at the front door.
“Hello,” I said softly as I stared from the man to the woman. “Can I help you?”