Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“You always got an excuse,” he snaps. “You got money to keep the heat on in your little cabin but not enough to cover our joint—”
“What I do and don’t do is not your business,” she fires back, sharper now, and cutting him off completely. “The temperature inside my house or out isn’t your concern..”
He either doesn’t hear her or doesn’t care. “You think this is easy on me?” he goes on, voice rising. “You think I like getting declined at the gas station? Like being the guy everyone whispers about because he can’t pay for his stuff?”
“I think you should’ve thought about that before you maxed out three credit cards and left me with all the debts while you fucked the neighbor’s wife,” she snaps, the anger blazing through the shame for a second.
Good, I think. This woman has fire and backbone.
But he barrels right over that too.
“Wow,” he sneers. “Real nice, Holls. Real supportive. I’m out there trying to start something new, build us a future, and you’re just bitter that I want better than you.”
Verbal shots fired. My jaw ticks as I feel my blood boil in anger towards this piece of shit. I’m not a fucking boy scout but this shit is uncalled for from any man to any woman.
“You left me with the past,” she bites out. “All of it. The debt. The notices. The ‘we’re going to send this to collections’ calls. You left everything in my lap and now you show up and expect me to give you more. Fuck right off, Eric.”
“This is not the conversation you should be having here,” I cut in, voice dropping another notch.
Both their heads snap toward me.
Eric looks like he wants to tell me to go to hell. Holley looks like she wants to melt into the porch boards.
Her eyes have that overbright shine I’ve seen too many times—people holding it together by a thread. One more tug and it snaps.
I hate that look.
I hated it the first time I saw it in a young recruit’s eyes overseas. I hated it the first time I saw it in my daughter’s eyes when Smoke didn’t show up and her daughter was looking for her dad. I hate it no less now.
I take a breath, keep my voice even. “I came here for peace and quiet with a friend. Not to listen to you scream at your ex-wife about your poor life choices. You want to make an ass of yourself, do it somewhere else.”
Eric’s gaze goes hard and cold. “Man, you got no idea—”
He takes that half-step closer to Holley again.
That’s the wrong move.
All the tiny tells in her body spike at once. Her shoulders snap up. Her pupils blow wide. Her free hand curls into a fist so tight the knuckles blanch.
She is not okay.
I take one more step forward so I’m squarely between them now, close enough to smell the stale coffee and cheap cigarettes on his breath.
“I said,” I repeat quietly, “you need to leave.”
He laughs. Sharp, ugly. “You gonna make me?”
He’s baiting. Pushing buttons. The wild look in his eyes is part fear, part arrogance, part desperation. I’ve seen it in men who want a fight they can blame on someone else.
My fingers twitch.
The easiest thing in the world would be to give in. To grab his jacket, walk him backward until his back hits his own car door, and explain in small, painful words how this is going to go.
But there’s Holley, right here behind me, caught in the blast radius.
I can feel her eyes on my back. Feel her wanting this over, not escalated.
“Eric,” she says quietly, voice trembling now. “Please. I’ll talk to you later. Not in front of my friend.” Good, she’s reading the situation and playing along. I don’t know what this man knows about her or her rental, but he needs to know she has support.
He snorts. “I’m bothering him?” He gestures at me with his chin. “Look at him. Old biker dude probably thinks he’s hot shit. Since when did you have friends?”
I almost grin.
That’s fine. Better he fixate on me than on her.
“You’re crossing a line with me,” she says, stronger this time. “And you’re embarrassing me. Go home.”
“Home?” He barks out a bitter laugh. “What home? You got the home. The house you sold. Then you took back your last name and bought this cabin. The only thing I got is overdraft fees and a car they’re probably gonna repo any damn day now.”
“And that,” I say, “is why she signed the papers. If you were a good man, she wouldn’t have signed shit.”
His head whips toward me.
The vein in his forehead stands out. His hands curl into fists. For a second, I can see him making the decision.
He’s going to swing.
The world narrows. The night goes sharp around the edges. The old instincts come roaring up, fast and clean.