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)
Swallowing thickly I tell him, “Even if he’s not a rat, even if he’s not working both sides, if he killed my father, his only brother …” I leave the last part unsaid. I’ll fucking kill him.
Reed’s statement is spoken lowly, his eyes peering back with mourning. “I know.”
It’s silent for a long moment.
“Back in a minute,” Reed says, getting up from his seat. He heads down the hall into the main restaurant and when he opens the door, the din of the other patrons slips into our private room for a small moment until it’s quiet again.
Kat flips our hands so she’s holding mine. “You okay, Cill?” Her soft voice is the only sound I’ve wanted to hear all this time.
“Lots of memories here,” I say gruffly. It’s true. I used to come here with my dad. We would sit in this same room and talk about whatever came to our minds. Usually it was something to do with Cavanaugh or school. I thought we’d be doing this until he was an old man, but he never got the chance.
Now Reed’s saying it’s our own family who killed him. Anger scorches inside of me, rising up like a slow tide and exhaustion is the only thing keeping it down. If my uncle is behind all this, then I took the fall for nothing.
“I’m starting to doubt everything,” I admit to her. The statement comes with a wave of sadness and regret.
Her gentle murmur makes me take it back though, “Everything?” she asks. Her wide hazel eyes beg me not to regret her and damn, if she ever thought I’d give her up or that I would take back anything between us, she’s gravely mistaken.
With my fingers slipping under her chin, I whisper against her lips, “Not you, my little hellcat.” With a soft kiss against her lips, I add, “Not us.”
“What Reed just said is heavy and this place has to be difficult to be in,” she tells me once I drop my hand from her chin. Nestling in next to me, she molds her side to mine, but stares at the door.
“Yeah, it’s getting to me.” I bite my tongue before saying the second half: and I believe Reed.
“You want to go home?” Kat murmurs.
“Not yet.”
I want to sit here until I figure something out. I don’t know what, exactly. Just something. I don’t want to take this unsettled feeling back to her place with us.
The owner pokes his head in the door before coming out to see us. The sight of Nello makes my lips pull up in an asymmetric smirk. He’s older than I remember him, with gray hair around his temples that was never there before and wrinkles around his eyes when he grins and says, “Cillian, how are you doing, young man? Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Russo. I appreciate you letting us have this table last minute.”
His hands clasp in front of him as he fiddles with his red tie. With black suit pants and a crisp white dress shirt, it’s obvious he’s the one in charge of this place. “Of course. It’s the least I could do. I’m so sorry about your father,” he adds, his tone somber.
Immediately, that bit of warmth I held vanishes. “Thank you.”
He seems to regret his condolences, quickly turning his attention to Kat. “Is there anything I can get you, dear?”
Dear. He’s forgotten her name. I know she hasn’t been here as much as me, but she came with me a handful of times.
“No, thank you,” answers Kat. She tries to put a smile on her face, but it’s not real. Kat gives up halfway through. That scares the hell out of me. She always could do that. Smile when everything was going to shit.
With a nod, I think he’ll leave us to it, but before he turns, he asks me, “You doing okay?”
“I’m glad to be out.”
“You have everything you need?”
I’ve known this man for almost as long as I can remember. What Reed said has me questioning everything.
“Can I get you dessert?”
I didn’t think I could eat another bite, but Kat perks up when she hears about dessert.
“Chocolate cake sound okay?” he asks her.
“Sure does. Maybe to go?” she adds and he says, of course. That’s what he always says. He’s amenable to men like me.
He glances down at our hands on the table as Reed comes back into the room. “What happened to your hand? You need anything for that?”
It’s kind of him to ignore the matching bruises Reed and I are sporting. I flex it, stretching out my fingers and shaking my head as Reed takes his seat. “I tried to become a handyman and did something dumb with a hammer. Won’t make that mistake again.”
“Be more careful,” he scolds, smiling with his eyes.