Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
My brother. I try to soak in the words, the name I don’t deserve, a thank-you on my tongue that I can’t work through how to say.
They continue to argue around me, but I can’t look at them, can’t talk to them, just stare down, studying my bruised and battered hands as they kick Gregory Swift out of the room.
I turn to them, waiting to see the regret, trying to figure out why they’re here and why they did that.
“What happened tonight, East?” Rhett asks.
When I don’t reply, Morgan adds, “I know you. If you attacked that man, there’s a reason. Don’t sacrifice yourself because you don’t think you deserve it.”
I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.
A knock sounds from the door, and a heavy breath whooshes from my lungs. I don’t know how I know it’s him, why that feels better, like some of the pressure eases off me. That’s a dangerous way to think. I can’t get used to that, used to him. Why the fuck hasn’t he given up already?
“Thank fuck,” Dusty says as he lets Archer inside.
“I had to pull some strings to get in here.” He comes over to me and touches my face, the slightly rough pad of his finger brushing against my chin as he studies my injuries.
I pull away. “Why are you here? Why are any of you here?”
“Give me a minute with him,” Archer tells them. It takes a moment, but I’m surprised they listen to him, surprised I don’t argue. When we’re alone, he says, “I hope the other guy is worse. You’re a mess.”
“Fuck off.” But I actually almost smile.
“Tell me what happened.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, and you know me. I’m not leaving this room until you talk.”
“Jesus. Why are you so fucking obsessed with me?” I ask, and for the second time, Archer reaches out and touches my face.
This time, I don’t pull away. Why don’t I pull away? Why do I want to nuzzle in closer? It’s not him specifically, but just…to be closer to someone, to feel something soft, when everything in my life is always so hard.
“Talk to me. If you don’t, I’ll find out another way what happened. Make it a little easier on me, yeah?”
He brushes his finger against my cheek, my gaze holding firm on his.
I really think you can trust him, East.
Doesn’t she get that I can’t? That I’ve never completely trusted anyone in my life but her?
But I don’t want to make this harder on Archer. He’s right. I know him. He’s determined, and he’ll work himself to death trying to help me. The least I can do is make it a little easier on him.
“There was this fucking asshole there. I saw him through the window…he backhanded his girl in the parking lot. She left. He came back in, and I showed him what it feels like to be hit.”
“Jesus, Easton. So quietly fucking noble. Why wouldn’t you tell them that?”
I shrug and look away. He sighs.
On the back wall there’s a first aid kit. Archer grabs it, then starts cleaning the cut on my face.
“I’m not.”
“Not what?”
“What you said,” I reply.
His dark brows draw together, brown eyes studying me, like he has no idea what I’m talking about. His hair falls slightly into his face, over his forehead, and he just watches me through the strands.
I roll my eyes. “Noble.”
“Okay,” he replies simply, then keeps cleaning.
“I’m serious.”
“I said okay.”
“Yeah, but that was to placate me. You don’t agree with me.”
He winks. Fucking winks, whatever the hell that means. “I think you just want me to keep giving you compliments.”
I jerk back. “God no. I hate that.” I never know how to react on the rare occasion someone gives me a compliment—well, unless it’s about my looks.
“I think that’s a shame.”
I don’t move as he finishes with my face, then moves on to my hands. I’m not sure why I don’t stop him, but Archer always makes me do stuff I don’t expect.
When he finishes, he puts the kit away, then pulls out his phone. “Give me everything you can on the asshole…the woman, the vehicle. Where were you?”
I tell him the bar, what they both looked like, the make and model of his vehicle. “I have the license plate too.”
“No shit?” He cocks a brow and looks…proud? It makes my pulse throb, but I try to ignore it, push down anything that doesn’t feel bad.
“It’s nothing. He hit a woman, and I’m not an idiot. It made sense to memorize it.” I recite it for Archer.
“Okay. That’s good. Can I tell your brothers what you told me?”
I nod, silently thankful he asked. That he didn’t assume and gave me a choice. “I don’t…I can’t…I don’t want to see them tonight, though.”
He stares at me for a moment, an expression I can’t read, then says, “I’ll be right back.”