Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“No fucking way,” Cian said as he whipped off his seat belt. He glanced at the back seat. “Stay where you are, Ronan.”
I turned off the car and followed him outside to check the damage. My tire was completely flat.
“You can’t drive on this without bending the rim,” Cian said angrily, kicking the flat tire. “You have a spare?”
“I think so?”
“Come on,” he ordered.
We emptied the trunk, setting the bags and cooler on the ground beside us and stuffing the blankets and keepsake boxes onto the passenger seat. By the time we were able to pull up the carpet of the trunk to get to the spare tire I was sweating, and my anxiety was through the roof.
It felt safe inside the car like we were in our own little bubble. Standing outside on the side of the road, even though we hadn’t seen a single car yet, made me very nervous.
“Jesus Christ,” Cian spat as he pulled the tire out. “How the hell is your spare tire flat?”
“I don’t know,” I cried defensively, my heart pounding. “I didn’t even know it was there!”
“Richie’s a fucking moron for not taking care of this.”
“Don’t blame Richie.”
“He let you drive around with a fucking flat spare tire in your trunk,” he barked at me, his face getting redder by the moment. “What the fuck?”
“Maybe it’s not as flat as that one,” I said desperately. “If we change it, maybe we can drive on it.”
“It’s flat,” Cian said darkly. “Completely flat. You can’t drive on it.”
“Well, then, what?” I threw up my hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Cian tossed the tire down and put his hands on his hips, staring at the ground. I could see the muscle in his cheek flexing furiously.
God, I was such an idiot. I’d driven them all the way out here on a hope and a prayer that our aunt would take us in, left our entire lives behind, and then ran over a stupid stick in the road, and now we were stranded twenty minutes from our aunt’s house with no way to reach her. Richie was right. It was a stupid fucking plan.
“I’ll walk this to that gas station,” Cian said, pointing to a sign in the distance. “They always have air pumps. I’ll fill this up and bring it back.”
“That’s too far,” I argued. “No, you can’t go all that way by yourself.”
Cian just stared at me.
“I’ll go.”
“I’m going,” he said stubbornly, closing the trunk. “Get in the car and lock the doors. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m an idiot.”
“No,” he sighed. “You’re not. The Kellys just have rotten fuckin’ luck. I’ll be right back.”
He picked up the tire and threw it onto his shoulder as he started trudging down the road.
“Get back in the car,” he called, not even looking at me.
“Where is Cian going?” Aisling asked as I climbed back inside. The car was sweltering because I’d turned off what little air conditioning we had.
“Roll down the windows,” I ordered as I rolled mine down. “He’s going to fill up the spare tire.”
“I wanna go,” Ronan said, leaning forward.
“You’re staying here.”
“Why does Cian get to go?”
“Shut up, Ronan,” Saoirse snapped.
I clenched my jaw and willed myself not to cry as I watched my little brother carry the spare down the road. I lost sight of him as he grew too small to see, and my leg bounced with nerves as I waited for him to start back up the hill we were on.
The kids bickered in the back, but I tuned them out. Ten minutes later, Cian came back into view, slowly but steadily carrying the tire back up the hill.
I let out a breath of relief.
Then, the motorcycles showed up again, somehow louder this time. I looked behind us just as the first one pulled off the road and parked behind us.
“Oh, my god,” Saoirse said in horror. “Aoife?”
“I see them,” I replied.
For a terrified second, I wondered if it would be better to stay in the car, but Cian was still walking toward us, the windows were down, and it wasn’t as if the car could move anyway.
“Stay here,” I ordered as I climbed out of the car.
“Hey, nice to see you again,” the biker called out, smiling at me. “You need some help?”
He was huge. He was huge and wearing a leather vest with patches on it—and I wasn’t a moron, I knew what those meant—and he was off his bike and striding toward me. The other bikes were parked behind him, but the men stayed on them.
“We’re good,” I called back, walking to the back of the car so I could put myself between the men and my siblings. “Thanks, though.”
“You sure?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
My heart was thudding in my chest so hard that I had to keep myself from pressing my hand to it.