Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
A couple of women, two friends I’ve met a handful of times but I forget their names, sit on the side of the coffee table, leaning forward and talking to Finn and Cill’s uncle, Eamon. It didn’t take me long to learn everyone’s roles. Finn is the treasurer, which seems at odds with his large stature and weight. He’s first generation and formed the club with Eamon and Cill’s father decades ago. His accent is thick, as is his Irish temper.
Eamon is the road captain … but also the enforcer. He’s much leaner and again it seems to go against natural thought until you see the man in a ring. Cill’s uncle loves to tell stories of “back in the day, when I was a fighter …”
If another person walked in right now, they might be intimidated. The room is riddled with leather and tattooed skin. Not everyone gets it, but I do. I’m not afraid.
Unlike one of those women, who has a nervous laugh that still hasn’t left her. I watch as Finn’s brow raises and he leans back. Both he and Eamon are older than the two blondes, one platinum, one dirty blonde, both of them gorgeous. The two men have always had hangers-on and it’s never sat right with me. I get that they don’t want commitment like the others; they don’t want “old ladies.” The term makes me roll my eyes. But seeing women come and go is uncomfortable. It’s family dinner and if they don’t intend on them being family, they shouldn’t be here. It’s not like it’s an intimate gathering. There are over a dozen people here already and another two dozen or so to come. But still …
I’ve always found his uncle Eamon a bit disrespectful when it comes to things like that, but as Cill says, they’re old school. Which again, makes my eyes roll.
I start to take off my jacket, but a chill blows in and I think better of it, opting to leave it on even though Cill takes his off.
All the windows in the rec room are open. Fresh fall air comes in through the screens. It’s early autumn, but already chilly at night. The sun is just starting to set and through the blinds it’s easy to see it sinking into the woods behind us.
Nerves settle through me as Cill’s hand parts from mine and he has a hushed conversation with Reed. Tonight’s the night we’re going to tell our fathers our plans for next year. Any other daughter would probably be excited to tell her parents she got a college acceptance letter. My father, though, doesn’t like the idea of me leaving and lately he’s been kind of off. My mother passed two years ago and he’s been downhill ever since, falling into the bottle every night. Part of me feels guilty for leaving, but like Cill said, I have to live my life and I’ll show my father it’s for the better.
I start college in town next fall, and Cill’s happy for me. He’s proud, even if he’ll be staying with the club. After all, it bears his family name: Cavanaugh Crest. He has to because he’s vice president of the Cavanaugh East and this is our home. But we’re going to get our own place together halfway from here to State College.
The crack of a beer snaps me out of it and Reed smiles as I look up at him, tipping my head in gratitude.
“Thanks,” I say, accepting the drink with a mock cheers and he and Cill don’t miss a beat to continue their conversation. My gaze filters through the room, but I don’t see Missy anywhere, Cill’s aunt. She’s practically his mother since Cill’s mom passed when he was just a baby. She’s probably out grabbing a few more things for tonight. I’m restless without her here, telling me what I can do to help.
Someone comes down the stairs from the third level, footsteps loud and unselfconscious. It’s mostly offices up there on the top floor of the three-story construction and a few bedrooms for people to crash if they need them.
“Kat’s going to college,” Cillian blurts out to Reed. “She got into the premed program, isn’t that fucking amazing?” His fingers slip through mine again and he brings my knuckles to his lips, then kisses them.
My cheeks flush at the compliment, but I don’t have much time to react other than to hug Reed back because my phone is ringing.
I hear Reed ask about my father’s reaction as I dig out my phone from my pocket. Reed knows how it is, and speak of the devil, my dad’s name is on the screen.
He’s probably on his way and forgot something or he’s running late. He’s been late to everything recently.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Are you already at the garage?” His voice sounds different than expected, anxious maybe.