Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
She laughed before she went blazing back to their grandmother’s side and climbed onto the short stool so she could reach.
“Hi, Silas!” Brody came running into the kitchen, two Transformers in his hands. “You want to play?”
“Give your brother a minute to relax, Brody. He’s been working outside most of the day and he needs a little breather,” Meems instructed.
“Ah, man,” Brody whined.
Silas roughed his fingers through his little brother’s hair. “How about after I take a shower we go play ball out front?”
“Deal!” Brody went running right back out.
Meems tsked. “That boy has so much energy he’s liable to tear down the house.”
Chuckling, Silas shuffled the rest of the way into the kitchen and pecked a kiss to Meems’s cheek.
“Missed you,” she said.
His chest tightened as he dipped into the fridge and pulled out the almost empty bottle of orange juice.
One he’d snagged from the dumpster two days ago.
“Missed you, too. Where’s Mom?” he mumbled.
“Getting ready for her shift.”
He spun the cap off the bottle and tossed the whole thing back, guzzling down the cold juice in three big gulps.
He sent Meems a big grin when he saw that she was giving him the side-eye. “Already almost empty,” he said, tossing it in the trash before he ducked out and went wandering down the hall toward his mother’s room at the back.
He poked his head inside the open door.
She was at the mirror, pulling the big curlers from her hair. She was dressed in black jeans and a black undershirt, but she hadn’t put on the black western shirt that was part of her uniform yet.
“There’s my sweet Silas,” she said with her soft smile through the mirror.
“Hey, Mom,” he muttered, not sure why he felt so nervous as he stepped inside and crossed the room, welcoming her tight hug.
“How was your day?”
“It was really good.” He pretty much stammered it.
She must have sensed it because she pulled back with a frown, studying his face. She had to look up now since he was an inch taller than her.
“What’s going on?” She’d always been able to tell when something was up with him.
When he was upset or sad or secretly excited.
He wavered, unsure what to do or what to say. He’d always hated lying to her. He knew he wasn’t good at it and knew even more that it wasn’t right.
But he knew she needed this even though she’d refuse it if she knew where it came from.
So he tried to twist his mouth into a genuine grin. “I got a big bonus today.”
Her frown deepened, but not in a bad way. “A bonus?”
“Yep. Mr. Barker said I was doing such a good job that he wanted to give me something extra.”
“That’s amazing, Silas. Of course he thinks you’re doing a good job. You’re the hardest working, most caring person I know.”
His chest stretched with guilt, and he hid his face by kneeling to set his backpack onto the worn carpet, his hands shaking as he unzipped it and dug to the bottom to pull out the bag.
Standing, he extended it to her.
Confusion traipsed through her expression as her eyes darted between the bag and his face.
“Take it,” he urged, and she seemed wary as she took it.
A soft breath of surprise left her when she peeked inside.
“Silas, this is…” She couldn’t seem to find the right words before she was looking at him deep. “This is a lot of money.”
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “It’s for you.”
Her frown deepened. “No, honey, you’ve been working hard this whole summer and you deserve this.”
“No way, Mom. It’s for our family. I know we need it.”
Moisture made her eyes glassy, and the guilt made him feel like he was going to pass out.
But she needed it badly. He knew she did. So any guilt he felt was worth it.
“Please, Mom…I need you to take it. You work so hard to take care of all of us.”
She reached out and set her hand on his chest. Whispered, “Silas, my sweet boy. It’s your heart.”
That heart felt like it was going to bust.
TWENTY-NINE
SILAS
The room was dank and stale.
Clad in gloom and shadows.
Hidden in the depths of the clubhouse.
Walls so fucking thick there wasn’t a chance that anyone else could hear the wails coming from within.
And wails there were.
I dragged the tip of the blade across the bastard’s chest, opening up the flesh.
Motherfucker howled where he was bound to a wooden chair, his wrists tied to the armrests and his ankles to the legs.
His entire body arched from the chair.
Like he was stupid enough to think that he might be able to escape the fate he had condemned himself to.
Blood gushed from the wound, a wave slicking down his chest in a sheet. It thinned out in streaks that dribbled onto his bare stomach, mixing with the wound that had been made there, too.