Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“One shot won’t get you drunk,” Jessie told her.
“Okay, one shot,” Alexis agreed.
“Shit, I don’t have my bar here anymore,” Jessie muttered (she’d moved in with Eric not long ago, paving the way for Alice to move to the Oasis).
“You can use ours. Come on,” Bill offered.
They took off.
“Has it occurred to anybody that maybe Luna and Knox want to chill after her kidnapping?” Willow asked.
Everyone looked at everyone else, flummoxed by this question.
I burst out laughing again.
“Just a shot,” Harlow put in. “Then we all have to rest for the big day.”
“Just a shot,” Willow agreed.
I looked at Raye when I realized she hadn’t let go of my hand.
I’m okay, I mouthed.
She gave me a squeeze, a long look and let go.
I drew in a deep breath, released it and found my guy.
He was chatting with Jacob.
It was over.
We were home.
There was a wedding tomorrow.
And dinner with Mom and Dad the next day.
All was right in the world of the Angels.
And my guy had closure.
So no.
I wasn’t okay.
I was just right.
Knox wasn’t feeling that one shooter was enough, I knew, when we got to my apartment and he didn’t go for a beer.
He went to the cupboard where I had my liquor and pulled out my Woodford Reserve bourbon.
I didn’t drink it, but at Oasis Square, you needed to be prepared for anything.
He lifted the bottle my way.
I shook my head, picked up my dog and sat in one of my barstools.
We had to get into this. I wasn’t sure now was the time, but I wanted the door open so whenever that time was, he knew he could walk through it.
“She lied,” I said quietly.
He poured two fingers and put the bottle back.
He then took his glass to the fridge.
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” I told him.
He put two pieces of ice in the glass, came to stand opposite me and swirled the glass, watching the amber liquid move.
He took a sip, not a gulp, which I thought was a good sign.
He set the glass on the counter, his fingers still around it.
“Dad said she played the long game, but he had no idea. She used to bitch to me and Gypsy about him. The life we lived. I’m eight, nine, Gypsy’s six or seven, and she’s laying all her marital problems on us.”
I wasn’t sure who was the bigger motherfucker. His mom or his dad.
“Turning you against him,” I said.
He nodded, took another sip of bourbon and, “She didn’t have to put in that work. He did that himself.”
“And when they fought?” I asked.
“She threw it in his face, probably to throw him off track,” he deduced.
“This is a ton to deal with, baby,” I remarked, remembering the pain I saw in his eyes while we were in that warehouse.
“In a twisted way, I can see she started a long time ago when she sent Rocco in, so it wasn’t like she forgot us. And she was trying to lay the trail for me when she hit me up in Denver. I guess that’s something. It’s just something fucked up. And it’s obvious Gypsy’s been with her for years.”
“But your sis didn’t tell you.”
“No.” He took another sip. “She didn’t tell me.”
And now I didn’t know if his sister was the biggest motherfucker of them all.
His attention laser focused on me and he said, “Saw the footage of them grabbing you. You tryin’ to make this easier on me by not sharing they hurt you?”
“It was uncomfortable.” I dropped Jacques to the floor and put my hands to the bar so he could see the red marks still marring my wrists. “And those don’t feel good.”
He set his glass aside, leaned into his forearms on the bar and wrapped his long fingers around my wrists, his thumbs stroking.
“Now they feel better,” I whispered.
He lifted my hands, one after the other, to his mouth so he could kiss the insides of my wrists.
“And I’m all good now,” I said.
He smiled at me, still stroking my skin.
It was a small smile, his eyes were again wounded, he was showing me that, and I had a newfound appreciation for the honesty we were learning to share.
But I sensed we were done talking about his family.
At least for now.
“Can you hang there a sec?” I asked.
“Sure,” he answered, some of the ache in his eyes shifting to curiosity.
I pulled free from his gentle hold, and I (and Jacques) went to my closet.
I dug deep into where I’d hidden it. And at the time, I’d hidden it from myself.
Once I had it, I walked back to my side of the bar.
I felt the air close in around me, but it wasn’t hellfire this time.
It was warm and cozy and safe and wonderful.
I set the Christmas wrapped box on the bar between us.