Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I say.
He goes into his bathroom, and a moment later I hear the shower run. To the right of the door, above, is a three-foot-long beam that stretches across the corner, one wall to another. That’s where they found my mother, and I haven’t been in this room much since. I don’t know why he sleeps in here, even if it is the primary bedroom, but he loved her the most, I guess.
Callum’s mother died in the house he lives in now, too. It was something we shared.
Thunder cracks overhead, and I tilt my head back, listening until I hear the rain hit the roof.
The storms have started.
4
Dallas
Five Years Ago
I bend over, stuffing a handful of clippings into one of the canvas bags.
“Finish up,” Army tells us, rushing to rake everything into a pile. “We still have to do the Holybrook house, and rain is coming.”
I close my fist around more leaves and branches, loading them with the rest of the rubbish to be taken out.
But I don’t move faster. I make the same amount of money either way, and there will just be more cleanup after the rain tonight. Hell, we’re cleaning up from the last storm now.
The June heat settles on my skin like a coat, sweat soaking through my sleeveless T-shirt, and I glance behind me to the crystal-green pool. We have a pool, but this one spreads out over the half a fucking football field that’s the Ameses’ backyard. Three girls and one guy lounge waist-deep, little tropical drinks in their hands as some smooth music beats in the background.
I recognize Milo Price. He likes to come over to the Bay to slum. His girlfriend, Krisjen Conroy, stands next to him. Like Trace, she never seems to stop smiling.
Clay Collins and Amy Chandler laugh together, and I wish I didn’t know any of these people, but they go to school with Liv at Marymount. When Macon started paying for our sister to attend that den of snakes, I didn’t say shit. Iron was pissed—she should be with her own people, he thought—but the Saints would either break her or build her. She’s holding her own like a fucking Jaeger.
Sophia Beaumont, the daughter of the house, swims around with a couple of her friends in one of the other four pools, all connected by narrow passageways.
“Bowers Lawn Care wears polos,” I hear Amy Chandler say in her I’m-so-innocent tone as if she’s a child who’s making a big-girl observation.
Iron walks past me. “No one wants to see them out of their shirts,” he tells her.
The girls giggle, and I throw another bag of trash into the pile. Walking over to the pool they’re in, I grab the vacuum hose and drag it out. Sweat drips down my temple. Fuck. That water looks nice. Most pools are finished with blue tiles, but this one makes the water look like you’re on a white sand beach on an island that’s too beautiful to be real. There are five pools in total, this one with a bench around the perimeter for sitting submerged beneath the waterline.
Knowing me, though, I’d piss in it before I ever swam in it.
“And we bring our own hoses,” Trace taunts, giving the Chandler girl his playful smile. “Lets us service so many little flowers.”
Her eyes widen, a gasp escaping her smile. She turns to her friends, Clay looking grossed out and Krisjen hiding her amusement behind her drink. Milo lifts his chin, his eyes locked on my brother. He’s not a threat, not without his friends anyway.
Lifting my eyes, I see Callum Ames in the distance, standing on one of the balconies of his house, overlooking the pool. He gazes down, dressed only in his jeans, and I can’t tell who he’s looking at exactly, but his arrogance is obvious enough. A young woman in a white bikini comes up to his side, dragging her hand over his chest. He doesn’t seem to notice her as he stares in our direction.
“You like tips?” I hear a girl ask.
I glance to see her eyeing Trace, who winds the hose into a neat pile at his feet.
I grab the vacuum and store it away in the concealed cabinet behind the hedges.
“My dad always stiffs you guys.” She tugs the string of her top at the back of her neck. “I don’t think it’s fair.”
He drops the hose to the ground, strolling over to her.
“Trace.” Army tries to stop him.
But my youngest brother squats at the edge of the pool, watching her pull the string at her back next.
I arch a brow. She thinks we’d really rather see her tits than have the money. As if Saint pussy is like caviar to us and we don’t get it every fucking day.
“Amy, what are you doing?” Clay whines behind her.