Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
I hear him, but I’m not listening. I’m more concerned at the fucking moment with the fire burning through my upper back. It’s hot. It’s intense. And it hurts like a bitch.
“Gentry. You listening to me?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to hide the pain from my voice. “Just taking a second.”
He releases a breath. “All right. Good workout tonight, boys. Tomorrow at six.”
“See ya tomorrow, Coach,” Victor says. “Later, Crew.”
I lift my hand a bit, barely off the mat, and feel the canvas dip as they both hop out of the ring. I open my eyes, sparkles dancing through my vision, flames dancing through my body.
Holy fuck.
The canvas dips again and Will bends beside me. “Hey. You all right?”
I groan. “Yeah.”
“You’re a liar, too. What happened?”
I struggle to sit up, the pain ripping through me as I move.
“What happened, man?” Will steps back as I stumble to my feet.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You rolled up on your shoulder—”
“No shit.”
I amble out of the ring and Will grabs my bag. We head into the parking lot, the warm air wrapping around my body, taking the chill of the pain out of it.
“Crew, man, if you’ve hurt your spine again . . .”
“Will,” I warn, turning to face him. “Shut the fuck up. What’s hurt and what’s not hurt is none of your business. I don’t want you saying a word about it. Got it?”
He tosses my bag in my truck and watches me climb in. “Okay. This is your call. I’m team . . . What are we called?”
I think a second. “Team Believe.” I turn the engine on. “Believe I don’t fucking kill myself.”
“Not funny, man.”
I laugh anyway. “I’m heading home. Want to come by and drink the beer that’s left in my fridge? It’s not that fancy Craft shit you drink, but it’s free beer.”
“Free beer is free beer. I’ll follow ya.”
I close the door and head home, fighting to ignore the pain that is starting to lessen across the backs of my shoulders. Team Believe. Although I was joking when I said it, I like it. I like the word believe. It’s what I’m doing now in every aspect of my life—believing I won’t get fired for being so tired at work. Believing I’m doing the right thing in this mess I’m in the middle of. Believing that I won’t fuck it up worse than it already is somehow. Believing that I will figure out a way to win this fight with Davidson.
I pull into my driveway, Will on my tail. There’s a red beat-up car parked along the curb that I don’t recognize.
I get out of the truck and meet Will on the lawn. “Who’s that?” he asks, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.
“Don’t know.”
We walk to the front and up the steps, a strange quietness moving between us. I twist the handle and go inside, the light on in the living room. I hear voices, more voices than there should be.
Standing next to my television are Jules’s parents.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” I scowl. “You have about two seconds to explain this.”
“Crew,” Julia says, jumping off the sofa. She runs to me and I pull her in close. She falls into my side like it’s the most natural thing to do. Any other time, I’d relish the moment. But right now, there are two assholes staring at me that I want to deal with.
“Crew, my man.” Her father extends his hand. I let it hang in the air. They smell like stale cigarette smoke, the odor permeating the air around them.
Harry and Greta are almost unrecognizable—the years have not been good to them. They’re unkempt, their hair practically uncombed. They look dope sick, like they’re desperate for their next hit of whatever they’re on. I wonder vaguely if Julia realizes they’ve moved on from alcohol.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Will walks to the other side of Jules. “Where’s Ever?” he whispers.
“Bedroom. Asleep,” she whispers back.
“Join her,” I growl.
“Crew, wait—”
“No. There’ll be no waiting, Jules. Unless they came here to tell you how sorry they were for fucking up your life, there’ll be no waiting.”
“We came to see our daughter. Apparently, our granddaughter is sick and we wanted to see her, too.”
“And they wanted me to sign a car loan for them,” Julia says softly. I can hear the sadness in her voice, the feeling of being let down by her parents yet a-fucking-gain.
“You had the audacity to walk in here, knowing your granddaughter has cancer, and ask your daughter to sign a car loan for you?” I can’t believe it, even from them.
Harry puffs out his chest. “I gotta do a lot of runnin’ back and forth between here and Baltimore. I need a car that will make it. Why do you fuckin’ care?”
“I bet you do. Runnin’ a lot of dope between the cities now, are ya?”