Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I almost put a gun to his head. Can’t say I miss him, either.
He can rot in hell. Talk to you later, Dom.
I set my jaw, tossing away my phone and grabbing a crowbar. I’d immediately started tearing down the drywall at the edge of the dining room, prying pieces off. The wall needed to come down, and now I needed an outlet that didn’t involve violence or very rough sex in this town. I ripped pieces of the wall away in large chunks, thinking of everything I’d left behind in Montana.
I’d shoved almost every thought of Brody out of my mind. I hated him so much now that ‘hate’ wasn’t even enough of a word to describe it.
Brody had betrayed my friendship, and betrayed Dom’s, in a way we would never forgive.
But even if I pushed away every moment of thought about Brody…
It wasn’t really about the house, or the wealth, or even the parties.
My father would have to take my life before he’d ever take my pride.
A lifetime of him treating me like I was the “mistake” of the family. Conversations I’d overheard where Dad sat in smoke-filled rooms and literally told colleagues that he hadn’t wanted me. That Xander had always been his more serious son. He’d always showered me with money, mostly to keep me placated and occupied, like a nuisance he paid to keep quiet.
He always gave me more money after leaving me with a particularly dark bruise.
I had no hopes for the situation in Montana to improve.
And now, the alcohol was working its way into my veins, tormenting me with every reason I shouldn’t have been getting close to Max Burnett, either.
You’ll hurt him, too.
No one can avoid it, from you.
Even the people you cherish always get hurt.
I ripped at the drywall too hard, a stray edge hitting my arm wrong and giving me a thin streak of blood.
The knock at the door had shaken me from the endless dark tunnel of thoughts I always ended up in when it came to my family.
I tossed away a piece of the drywall and made my way toward the front.
I swung the front door open and got an eyeful of Max.
My heart swelled a little too big for my chest. He looked so pure. Gorgeous. Lickable and delicious and—he fucking needs to get away from my goddamn mess.
I looked him up and down, glaring at him.
“You shouldn’t be here. Not now.”
He furrowed his brow. “Great way to greet a guy.”
My blood was surging with rage and adrenaline. This would have been the best time for Max to stay the fuck away from me, but he didn’t know what was going on in my world.
I realized he was holding a bottle of nice whiskey in one hand.
A kind called Black Opal, which I’d just discovered last year. The bottles were at least $500 a pop.
“You paid that much for a bottle of whiskey?” I asked.
“Thought you might like it. I have some cash, after my videos have been doing well.”
He looked down at the crowbar I’d forgotten I was holding, then his eyes glanced over at the cut on my arm, which I hadn’t realized was bleeding a little worse than before.
I knew how I must look to him.
Villainous.
A thin sheen of sweat on my body as I breathed heavily. A frown on my face. Blood and dust.
Max’s sweet-boy Tennessee eyes could barely hide the judgement: to him, I was dangerous.
What the fuck else is new.
He swallowed, blinking after a moment and standing up straighter, looking me in the eye. “I came to say I’m sorry,” he declared.
How many times had he rehearsed saying that before he showed up at my door?
Adorable.
Too cute to be in a ten-mile radius of someone like me.
Especially when I’m in a mood like this.
My blood still ran hot as I looked him up and down again. “Sorry for?”
“Being unwelcoming to you.”
I put the crowbar down onto the floorboards near me. “Max, the hockey stick thing was fun, I promise.”
“Not just that. But… since then, too. I don’t know if you’re following me around town because you actually want to protect me, or if you’re just hell-bent on following a random bartender, but I refuse to be angry about it anymore. So I brought more whiskey.”
I paused for a moment before I spoke.
“Why?”
“Because you like it.”
Too nice.
He handed me the whiskey bottle and I held it, nodding at him. For a moment I thought he was going to turn and leave, but he stayed planted there outside my front door, his gaze trained on mine.
“You really do need to worry about your safety, Max. I am following you to protect you. That is the only reason.”
Not that I don’t enjoy looking at you, too.
“You don’t have to be nice to me,” I said. “I understand why you don’t trust me.”