Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I loved those overalls,” Lucy said quietly as she picked up her fork.
“Pigtails with little bows in her hair. Missing front teeth. Absolutely waling on a boy twice her size.”
“I’m guessing you’re talking about Kirk Shelten,” Lucy said, lifting her chin. “That little creep deserved it.”
“Is that what his name was?” Charlie joked. “I can’t keep them all straight.”
“If they didn’t want to get humiliated by a little girl, they should’ve behaved better,” Lucy replied simply.
“And then, when the fights started getting a little more evenly matched, she started training,” Charlie told us.
“In what?” Chance asked curiously.
“A little of this and a little of that,” Lucy replied vaguely.
“Mr. Wallis was a boxer, right?” Charlie asked her.
“Yeah. Welterweight.”
“What about, um…what was his name? Howard? No, Howser?”
“Muay Thai,” Lucy replied quietly as she dug into her food.
“Lucy can throw down,” Reese said appreciatively.
“Not really.” Lucy wrinkled her nose.
“She’s underplaying it,” Charlie argued.
“How did your parents feel about all these fights?” my mom asked.
Lucy shrugged. “Ambivalent unless they had to take off work to go into the school.”
“It usually happened after school,” Charlie said, his mood dimming. “But things settled down around ninth grade.”
“You were in tenth grade,” Lucy corrected. “I was in ninth.”
“Right.”
“Did you ever train with those guys, Charlie?” Danny asked curiously.
“I tried,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t ever very good.”
“Your reflexes got much better, though,” Lucy added loyally. “You were always a lover. I was the fighter.”
The conversation moved on to other things, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Lucy’s last comment. Charlie was the lover, and she was the fighter. Why was that? Yes, Charlie was on the smaller side, but that didn’t mean anything. I’d known plenty of scrappy men and Vampires who were slight in stature. I understood the disinclination for fighting. Lots of people preferred to avoid confrontation, but defending yourself was different.
Lucy’s hand found my thigh about twenty minutes into dinner. Wine was flowing and stories were being tossed around, the latest about when Zeke was ten years old and decided that he was going to run away, but I was having a hard time following the conversation.
It was impossible to ignore the heat licking up my torso.
Lucy’s hand tightened on my thigh beneath the table as she let out a strained laugh at whatever my dad had said. Her fingers dug in.
“Where did he think he was going to go?”
“A ranch,” Chance and Beau both replied.
“It didn’t matter which one,” Danny said with a laugh. “He was just determined to get away from us.”
“Well, if you didn’t torment him so much,” my mother chastised.
“We didn’t torment him,” Chance argued. “At least not any more than Ulf and Bjorn tormented us.”
Lucy looked at me in question.
“Our childhood nicknames. Me and Beau.”
She nodded in understanding.
“Mom named us, but Dad chose the nicknames,” I explained. “Danny’s is Arne. Chance is Happ.”
“What about Zeke?” Lucy asked.
“Ezekiel was named for my good friend,” my dad answered before I could. “More like a brother.”
“He was always just Zeke,” I confirmed.
“I gave them strong names,” my mom said with a sigh. “Ambrose, Beaumont, Chauncey, Daniel, and Ezekiel. But Erik was determined to call them by something different.”
“They’re fine names,” my dad agreed. “There’s nothing wrong with nicknames.”
“Chauncey?” Lucy asked, looking across the table at my brother, gleefully.
Chance met her stare.
“That fits you perfectly,” she said. There was nothing in her tone or the expression on her face to indicate that she was fucking with him…unless you’d seen them butt heads before. I knew with absolute certainty she was trying to goad him.
“I think so too,” my mother said happily.
“Knock it off, Lucille,” Charlie chided, shooting his sister a look.
She gazed back innocently.
As my father and Beau started clearing the table, I made no move to help them. Lucy was still contributing to the conversation, but I’d noticed that her posture had changed the longer we’d sat for dinner. She was very still, her muscles rigid with strain. Oh, she was hiding it well, but I also had the benefit of her nails digging into my thigh.
“Two choices,” I whispered into her ear. “You can sit on my lap and alleviate some of this, or we can excuse ourselves.”
“I’m fine,” she breathed.
“Pick,” I ordered.
When she turned to meet my gaze, I made the decision for her. The pupils of her eyes were so wide with pain that the brown around them was just a sliver of color. It was startling, considering the fact that she’d barely fidgeted or given any other indication that she was uncomfortable.
“We’re going to skip dessert,” I announced, getting to my feet.
“I’d like dessert,” Lucy argued.
“It’s worse when you try to fight it,” Reese said in commiseration, wincing.
“I’m not fighting anything,” Lucy countered as she rose from her seat. The trembling in her hands gave her away.