Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Martin doesn’t question it, just nods and walks off.
I look into Road’s eyes. My life might be falling apart, but I’m not alone.
Chapter 41
Road
Clyde spent the afternoon talking to the cops, contacting his insurance provider, and circling the pile of rubble he used to call home. The fire service advised him against going inside just yet, but we did recover a couple of things from the other buildings on the property, which were less affected by the blaze.
Some of the guys were not comfortable talking to Clyde after what happened and tried to comfort me, but I told them all to either speak with my man or get lost, because how fucking ridiculous was that? He doesn’t bite, and a pat on the shoulder can go a long way on a day when his life collapsed further.
I did my best to be there for him without making it all about the fragile emotions deep in my chest, but some days are so fucked up that nothing can possibly make them feel bearable.
I will try it anyway.
By the time we arrive back at Vulture Hollow, the news has spread, and we find a covered plate of cookies on our doorstep, which is a nice touch, though a bit of sugar can’t mend a broken heart, not even when chocolate chips are involved.
Clyde doesn’t say much, but as he sits down by the table on my porch with a vacant expression, he does rip into the cookies as though they’re the only thing that can nourish his soul.
“Maybe if I kill them all, I’ll get my bike back,” he grumbles as he stuffs his mouth with more sugar.
He doesn’t mean it. He might be murderous, but it’s his bitterness speaking.
I sit close enough that my knee is pressed to his, but as much as I long to hug him, I don’t want to be an overwhelming presence he can’t shed. If he needs to be closer, he’s free to cross the distance between us, but for now I allow him some space and pack cherry tobacco into the bowl of my pipe. Two of the bravest cats are already on the table, one of them, Frida, attempting to drag one of the cookies away before I shoo her off. She’s unhealthily into dairy and sugar, and it’s up to me to save her from herself.
“That was a new low, even for them,” I mumble, stiffening when Nutter leaps into my lap, and then stretches, digging his claws into my flesh. I bear it.
“I feel so… bare. Like they flayed me. I have nothing. Not even a second T-shirt.”
He didn’t talk so emotionally about it throughout the afternoon, probably keeping up appearances in front of the guys, but now that facade is cracking. I’m relieved when he reaches for my hand. He isn’t and never will be a burden to me.
I put the pipe in my mouth to rub his forearm too, but he pulls out his lighter and offers it to me, as if he didn’t want me to miss out on a chance to smoke.
I want to comfort him saying that this will be a fresh start, but it feels like a ball of mud in my mouth, and I choose not to toss it at him. “When I left home at fourteen, I didn’t want anyone to notice so I only took spare underwear, and all the long-lasting food I could find, because I worried they’ll try to find me. I had nothing, and the food lasted me for only three days. The bruises on my chest darkened at first, and got more painful, but as they gradually faded, I knew I had nothing to regret.”
His beautiful blue eyes meet mine, and I feel so seen. I’d give him the last T-shirt off my back if that’s what he needs. He even cracks a smile as he squeezes my hand. “No regrets. Should be my next tattoo. Maybe… it’s kinda hot that I’m wearing your boxers?”
I grin, sucking in some of the flavored smoke as I play with his fingers. “I like how my things look too big on you. That’s hot.”
“I’m not that much smaller.” He frowns, but his hand is still in mine, so he can’t really be offended.
“No, but I can immediately see when you’re wearing borrowed underwear and T-shirts,” I whisper, leaning closer. His gaze is a storm behind the veil of twisting smoke, and I close the gap between us to peck him on the lips. “There’s nothing small about you,” I reassure him and squeeze his bicep.
He inhales the smoke straight out of my mouth. “I’ll make a list of things I need. Nothing crazy, just… you know.”
I like that he’s trying to keep his confidence and not be too coy about his needs. Clyde saved my life. Gave up everything he knew to be with me. He deserves to be pampered.