Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Quill, this is my girlfriend, Molly. Molly, this is Quill. He loaned me the Mercedes for your prom.”
“Ah.” Quill wags a finger in the air. “I didn’t loan it. You won it,” he says in one of the smoothest voices I’ve ever heard.
Griff nods and ducks his head. “True.”
“Borrowed or won, it was still really nice. Thank you so much,” I say.
“Not a problem.” He dips his chin. “Nice to meet you, Molly.”
Quill slaps Griff’s shoulder, then turns and melts into the party.
“He seems nice,” I say, then lower my voice. “But isn’t he the guy Eraser wanted you guys to watch at the track?”
Griff nods for me to sit in the booth again. “You don’t miss anything, huh?”
“I know you guys think I don’t listen or pay attention, but I do.”
He slips his arm around me. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“You never really answered my question.”
His lips quirk. “Yes, there were some concerns, but I think they have it under control. You forget, I wasn’t here for a few months.” He lifts his chin at the bar. “If Remy invited him, I assume things are cool.”
“Okay.”
After a few minutes, Griff’s easy attitude slides into something more serious. He pulls his arm away and shifts his body so he’s facing me. “Hey, don’t get mad, but I need to talk to you about something.”
With anyone else, don’t get mad would be a sure sign someone’s about to say something to piss you off. But I trust Griff. Even so, my stomach clenches with anxiety. “What?”
He rubs his hand over my thigh, the heat from his skin warming me through my jeans. It’s more of a nervous gesture than an affectionate one, which jacks up my anxiety even more.
“Everything’s been so good, I haven’t wanted to bring this up. But now that the reunion’s behind us and I’m back to work, I need to know what you want to do about your car.”
Guilt punches me in the chest.
How could I forget what I did to my beautiful car?
Griff’s right. Things have been good. Busy but wonderful. After the reunion and what Griff confessed after I hit Kiki, I haven’t thought about the destruction I caused again. How could I forget the mess I left for him to clean up?
“Hey, hey, hey, baby, look at me.” Griff takes my hands in his. “I’m not trying to upset you, but I need to know. I ordered everything I need to repair it—”
My eyes flare in surprise. “You did?”
“Well, yeah. If you don’t want it, I still need to get it in saleable condition.”
He should probably sell it to someone who will appreciate it. I don’t deserve it after what I did. “I’ll pay you back.”
“What?” His face screws into a mix of confusion and outrage. “Molly, I don’t give a fuck about money. If you keep it, is it going to remind you of that night every time you look at it? Because if it is, I don’t want that for you.”
I hadn’t even considered that possibility.
“I know you’ve got your little Bronco Sport, which is much more practical for you,” he continues, “but you can keep the Malibu to race at Zips or to drive in the summer. Whatever you want.”
Hope expands in my chest. “Will you let me help you fix it?” I ask.
His face breaks into a wide grin. “Yeah, of course. It can be our spring break project when you’re home from school.”
“I’d like that.”
“You sure it won’t bring up bad feelings for you?” he asks, his eyes boring into me, seeking a truthful answer.
Nothing but love and concern flows through the question. Will I look at the car and remember that awful night? Maybe. But I’ll also always remember that it’s a symbol of Griff’s love and forgiveness.
“No, I think if anything, it’ll be a reminder that we really are unbreakable.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Griff
I didn’t want to influence her decision, but I’m so fuckin’ happy Molly chose to keep her car, and that she’s able to see it in a different light now.
I hug her close again. “It’s still just a car. Definitely not unbreakable.”
She drills one of her poke-y little fingers into my side. “Hey. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” My smile fades. “And I feel the same way.”
“Thank you.” She rests her head on my shoulder and we watch the party for a bit. The bar’s over capacity. Pretty much anyone and everyone we know is here.
Most of the Lost Kings, from both the upstate and downstate clubs, along with their wives and girlfriends, have shown up. Guys from Zips, including Torch—which irritated me to no end—but so far he hasn’t shown his face in this corner of the bar.
Lots of fighters from The Castle have stopped to talk to me. They all want to gas me up about the Vegas fight. One asked how he could audition for Season Two of Supreme Underground Fighter. I told him to come talk to me at the gym this week. From their perspective, I’m sure it looks like I have the world by the balls. Went on TV, got famous, brought home stack of cash, and now I’m in a pro fight and earning a lot of money. That’s the dream, right? I’ll never be able to convince them otherwise. But maybe I can help any future fighters prepare for the SUF the experience better than I was able to.