Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Outraged squeaks start again.
“And as for all the money and property and assets you have scattered across various bank accounts and countries,” I begin pouring the gasoline on the remains surrounding her, “they found great homes that won’t be contested courtesy of the attorney we have on our side.” Strong fumes overwhelm my senses, tempting me to stop my shaking of the can. “Staff will be well compensated for your years of abuse and Anabelle for the destruction of her property.” Rounding the backside of the chair convinces Kid to join Mutt in the front. “Charities for victims like myself and Curtis will appreciate your large anonymous donations as will the numerous equestrian charities you dictated in your will.” The spilling trek continues until it’s completed. “You’re a mega cunt for not letting the man have that one simple joy.” Popping her in the face with the can crushes her noses. “And my family?” I lift the can above her head to cascade the fluid down her face and the tire, efforts fixated on ensuring it’s completely drenched like I envision they are in the cartel hits I’ve seen in documentaries. “We too have been financially placated for our pain and suffering.”
I wait for the obvious vocab joke to be made from either of my fiancés only to experience continued silence instead.
Perhaps they’re too tired.
Too exhausted.
Too on edge until this spreadsheet of our relationship is completely closed.
Filed away as nothing more than a haunting moment to never be reopened.
Revisited.
Once the can is near empty, I pour a line for a few feet, leading away from the soaking mess to the middle space between the men who have been by my side since the first day I stepped foot in this town.
The men who have never left me.
Who have fought me.
Fought for me.
Us.
Our family.
Our future.
They deserve to put an end to this as much as I fucking do.
Carelessly tossing the container elsewhere is followed by Mutt offering us each a match.
Together, we strike and toss them onto the trail, diligently watching as the flames race to engulf the areas drenched in fuel.
“Kiss your baby boy in hell for us,” I vindictively coo over her blood boiling screams at the same time my future husbands wind their arms around me.
Mutt drapes his along my shoulder while Kid curls his around my waist.
Both hold on protectively tight.
Wordlessly promise to always do whatever it takes for us to survive.
I swiftly capture each of their dangling hands to return the loving sentiment knowing that these flames mark the end of having to fight for our future.
That they’re scorching the earth.
Cleansing the scene.
Creating ashes for us to rise from.
Stand on.
Build on.
From this moment forward, we’re no longer being hunted.
We’re living free.
Epilogue
A few months later…
Bunny
“I don’t wanna dance, Rabbit,” grumps Nolan from the white backyard bench he’s been sitting on since we finished cutting our wedding cake. “I wanna sit here. Drink a beer. And not have fuckin’ flashes goin’ off in my face every twenty seconds.”
Folding my ivory, long sleeve, chiffon covered arms over my tits that have grown almost a full cup size during my pregnancy is attached to a firm expression. “It’s our wedding day-”
“Only reason I let Garcia and Demián talk me into wearing this fuckin’ suit.”
“And you look so fucking sexy in it.”
He struggles not to grin behind the Pilsner pressing against his lips.
What can I say?
Mutt in a suit?
Win column.
The “please repeat” side of the sheet.
Does he look good in his typical day-to-day jeans and whatever shirt is clean getup?
Of course.
It’s just like Kid – who is rocking the shit out of burnt orange, brown jacket and matching polka dotted bowtie along with light dress pants and dark shoes – he looks even more fuckable all dressed up.
I love that Nolan chose a light gray suit and tie.
I love that it reflects him the same way the playful but formal attire Kid picked out mirrors himself.
And what I love even more is that they each had a separate “father, son” like shopping trip with Demián to acquire them.
The Garcias – all four of them – have become family.
Val for her doctor meets bestie meets future auntie level of care.
Garcia – Vic – for everything he’s done in the past as well as everything he helped setup for us and our little one to have a safe, stalker free, along with prison free, future.
Demián and Eva for not only taking over wardrobe prep – he took them, she took me, Posie, and Val on a pampering excursion to find what I wanted for our special day – but for taking over the entire cost of this and a mini beachside honeymoon.
After recovering from ending last year in literal flames, we took a couple days as a whole to talk.
Actually. Talk.
We discussed what we saw in our futures – together and separately.