Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m an eye for an eye kinda girl,” I tell him. “The only way this is right is if I get to burn down your house.”
His eyes widen. “Please don’t.”
I huff and look away. If it weren’t for Smooch, I’d probably be there right now dancing in the flames.
Maddox pushes past Hunter, deciding I’ve calmed down enough to risk getting close. His hands come down on my thighs, and I hate how much I crave his touch. “Do you still want to kill me?”
I look him dead in the eye. “Yes.”
“Fuck.”
I let out a sigh. “Relax. If I actually wanted you dead, you’d already be a hit coming up on Hunter’s phone.”
He grins, thinking I’m making a joke, but as I stare him down, he slowly inches his stare toward Hunter. “Wait. You think she’s serious.”
Hunter just nods. “Yeah, man,” he says, both of the guys now looking back at me as if discovering something about me they never knew existed. “I really fucking do.”
19
MADDOX
Bringing Lyra back to my home after her shift feels a bit like transporting a caged animal, and not because she’s being difficult, but because of the level of unpredictability. The last time she piggybacked on my bike, she was carefree, laughing, and enjoying the way the wind whipped past her. This time, she’s deathly still. Silent, and somehow, it absolutely terrifies me.
The Lyra from the bar that wanted to throw hands, who was happily swinging a baseball bat at my head and calling me every name under the sun, that’s a Lyra I’m comfortable with. I know what’s coming, what to expect, but this silence has me questioning every life choice I’ve ever made.
It’s a short ride back to my place, and the moment I cut the engine, she peels herself from my back and shifts her gaze to the ground. It’s after two in the morning, and I don’t doubt that she’s exhausted. It’s been one hell of a day. Truth be told, I’m surprised she even went in for her shift at Black Velvet, but I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Even in the face of tragedy, she’d never let her employees down.
I make my way up the path, keeping right at her side while calling on every ounce of control to keep my hands to myself—a lesson I’ve learned a lot from over the past eighteen hours. And while I’d give anything to pull her into my arms and hold her all night, I don’t know if that’s what she wants. If the swinging bat was anything to go by, then I’m going to safely assume it’s a hard pass on the physical contact tonight.
Once we’re at the door, I hear Smooch inside, already galloping our way, and I shake my head. I don’t know where he gets the energy. Three seconds ago he was probably in a dead sleep, but the moment my bike pulls up, he has the energy of a toddler on a sugar high.
The second I get the door open, Smooch barrels into Lyra, and in a flash, she goes from looking like she wants to tear my head off with a pair of rusty nail clippers to the happiest woman on earth, dropping to her knees and letting Smooch bulldoze onto her lap, his waggy tail rocking his whole ass from side to side.
Lyra gives him all the love in the world while Smooch doesn’t even bother greeting me at all, and I let out a sigh, pulling the door closed behind us and inching past them into my home.
After spending a few minutes with Smooch, Lyra finally gets back to her feet and makes her way into my home. Clocking the shopping bags on the coffee table, her brows furrow. “What’s all that?” she asks, making her way around the couch toward the bags.
I cringe, unsure how this is going to go down. “I stopped by the store this afternoon and got you some things.”
She pauses and looks back at me, her brow arched. “At Black Velvet, you suggested that you would go and do all of this. Not that you’d already gone ahead and done it.”
I shrug and offer a guilty smirk. “Wishful thinking.”
She shakes her head, but curiosity gets the best of her, and she begins searching through the bags, looking over the few necessities I’d thought to get. Clothes. Toothbrush. Pads and tampons, not that I know anything about how she generally likes to deal with that shit.
“I know it’s not a lot and can’t replace the things you lost, but figured it was a start to get through the next few days.”
“Next few days?” she asks. “There’s enough tampons here to host the women’s synchronized swimming team for three years running.”
“Right. Uhh . . . slight oversight.”