Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“You alright, boyo?” Great Gramps Poet called quietly from the end of the bar.
“Yeah,” I replied, snapping out of it. I’d done the right thing. We could move forward now. Maybe, eventually, we’d even be friends again.
“You sure?” he asked as I turned to talk to him. “You sure this is the road you’d like to take?”
“What do you mean?” I asked as I walked closer to him.
“You got two roads in front of you,” he said seriously. “One you walk down alone, and the other you walk down holdin’ on like hell to the woman you love.”
“You sayin’ I won’t ever find anyone else?” I joked.
“You will,” he said easily, lifting his coffee mug to his lips. “But take it from me, they won’t ever be her.”
The truth of that hit me like a stack of bricks.
“Fuck,” I said.
“Better hurry, boyo,” Gramps said, jerking his chin toward the door.
“Fuck,” I said again, spinning on my heel.
I didn’t run, but it was a close thing. Seconds later, I was outside scanning the parking lot. Relief hit fast as I spotted Kara’s Jeep parked over toward the picnic tables. I didn’t even see Grease until his fist was planted in my belly, knocking the air out of me.
“What?” I gasped as soon as I could pull air into my lungs again. I looked at him in confusion.
“You deserved that,” he said easily, moving around me toward the clubhouse. “You’re welcome for not fuckin’ up your face. Again.”
I coughed, sure that what I’d had for lunch was going to make an appearance. Holy hell, that old fucker’s fists were like goddamn wrecking balls. I was bent over, my hands on my knees, trying not to puke when a bike started up at the far end of the building. Keeping my eyes on Kara’s car, I took a minute to learn how to breathe again.
By the time I straightened up, I realized that Kara wasn’t in her car. I glanced over, just as Mack pulled out of the forecourt with Kara on the back of his bike.
“Shit,” I spat, watching them go.
She didn’t look back once.
“Shit,” I said again, bracing my hands on my hips.
I considered going back inside. Kara had to come back for her car at some point, right? But the idea of going back inside and getting a second helping of Grease’s particular brand of conversation didn’t sound all that appealing. After a few moments, I headed for my truck. I’d wait for Kara back at the apartments. Maybe Charlie would have some pity on me and let me wait at their place.
Curt was just switching places with another prospect on the gate as I reached it and he walked up to my window before I could pull out onto the road.
“I’m guessin’ it didn’t go well,” he said, searching my face.
“What?” I asked, playing dumb.
“I let Kara through the gate,” he replied, looking at me like I was an idiot. “And she just left on the back of her dad’s bike, so—”
“She seem okay?” I asked.
Curt laughed. “She was wearin’ a full helmet,” he replied. “She looked like a fuckin’ robot. What happened?”
“Nothin’.”
“Sure,” he said, giving my doorframe a couple taps. “That seems likely. I’ll see you at home.”
I didn’t respond as he walked away. My mind raced as I drove home and I tried like hell not to worry. Me and Kara had history, right? One conversation wasn’t going to be the end of everything, and psyching myself out that it was wouldn’t help anything. As soon as she came home, I’d tell her that I wanted to have that conversation she’d mentioned. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been able to catch her at the club. I knew where she lived. Hell, her car was parked in front of my job. I just needed to wait a few hours, at most.
I was still telling myself that as I climbed out of my truck and walked toward Kara and Charlie’s apartment.
“Harrison,” a voice called from down the sidewalk.
I jerked to a stop and turned toward it, a wide smile pulling at my lips.
“Lover Boy,” I called as I walked toward him, laughing when he grimaced. We met in the middle with a back slapping hug. “When the hell did you get out?” I asked.
“Yesterday,” he said, pushing me away by the shoulders. “Just Bishop now. Gus works, too. You look good, man. The outside’s treatin’ ya right.”
“You’ll always be Lover Boy to me,” I replied.
Bishop laughed. “People are gonna get the wrong idea about us, you keep callin’ me that.”
“Not around here,” I replied, grinning. “Boys at the club’ll take one look at your pretty face and know exactly why I’m callin’ you that.”
Bishop gestured toward my cut. “All in, huh?”
“Always have been,” I replied. “Just took me a minute to realize it.”