Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“I doubt it.” I walk out, invading her space. She steps back and holds up her chin as if daring me to come closer.
I do. Close enough to know she’s dangerous for me. I can smell her, fucking vanilla and caramel. I take the cigarette from her hand.
She grabs a hold of the white ornate railing. The wind blows her hair off her neck and the palm trees sway behind her. It would be almost perfect if we didn’t hate each other.
She swallows as she watches me. Our eyes lock. I take one more drag and hold the cigarette out for her to share.
“How long have you been out?” she says slowly as if she feels the same thing, that pull between us.
“Three months.”
A small cough escapes her lips. What did she think, that I would run after her? Beg her to love me after she let me go to jail for her yet failed to visit?
She shakes her head and lifts her face to the sky. The light from the room and the cigarette cast a glow in the darkness.
“What happened to your neck?” I lean forward, wrapping my hand around the back of her head. I tilt it so I can see her better. She reaches up to cover it and squirms as if trying to escape.
“Who did this to you?” I demand. “Answer me.” I shake her.
“Edge…” She gasps, making a simple hold seem like a python is wrapped around her neck.
“Please.” She twists, digging her nails into my chest. “I can’t… please.” She blinks up at me in terror.
“What the fuck?” I let her go gently.
“I…” She grabs at her neck backing away. “I… I can’t breathe.” In full panic mode, she gasps in and out.
“Dolly.”
Her eyes jolt to mine. I flick the cigarette over the balcony and reach for her.
She holds up her hands as if I’m going to hit her.
“Stop.”
“Edge, I can’t breathe.” She looks at me, her huge brown eyes pleading.
“Christ, Dolly.” I grab her, scoop her up, and sit on the bed. “You can breathe. In and out.” As I place my lips on her forehead, she lets me guide her, though her body’s shaking a little. “That’s it, baby, deep breaths.”
Her nose goes into my neck. We all have a weakness—the one thing we want more than anything. I thought I was done with mine. She kicks off her heels to curl up tighter in my arms. As she calms, I stop thinking for a moment and kiss her damp eyes and cheeks, telling her she’s okay.
“I’m not crazy.” She sniffles. I want to say that’s not true, that her crazy was always something I loved, needed. I close my eyes and steady my heart. This is what she does. She’s like a witch who cast a spell on me as a child, and I still can’t seem to resist her.
I have to get away from her before I do something fucked up like forgive her. I shift her to the bed and stand running my hands up and down my face.
Goddamn her… fucking Dolly.
“I’m not,” she mumbles as she curls up into a ball on the bed, her silver dress hardly covering her ass.
“Get some rest,” I growl, dropping my hands. I hate feeling like this. I should turn her over and fuck her, get it over with so we both can move on and close our chapter forever.
But I won’t. She’s like a ticking time bomb. The past. It hasn’t been kind to us. She’s fucked up; I’m fucked up. She’s drunk, and I need to get drunk. Maybe I can pass out.
I have a goal, one goal: to get patched in soon. I’m ready, paid my dues, did everything for my club. Chuckie’s president and starting to make changes. It takes at least two to three years to become a brother, but a few have done it faster and I plan on joining them. The time is now. A lot of Chuckie’s old man’s lieutenants are stepping down, so he can form his own team.
Dolly rolls over and hiccups. She fucks with my head. Even when she didn’t come to visit me, I still dreamed about her. I loved her through it all because that is who I am.
Tugging off my T-shirt, I make my way to the fridge and down two bottles of Jack Daniels. I pull off my boots, toss them, and they land with a thud, followed by my jeans.
As I get under the sheets, she mumbles. Closing my eyes, I breathe and count to ten before turning to look at her.
Christ, she’s a disaster, and that’s saying something since I grew up with some real broken wings. Her eye makeup has smudged down to her right cheek. Her short black hair’s a mess. A small strand has attached itself to her cheek from all her crying. I take my hand and brush it away, which is a mistake but fuck it.