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)
Prophet rolls his eyes at me and crosses his arms. Which are kinda hot. Muscular and tattooed. Did I just block that part of me so hard that I refused to even acknowledge such things? Clyde’s words hit me again. That I should fuck Prophet, or something along those lines. Is it possible that he was truly jealous and it triggered that whole frenzy in the motel on top of my reveal?
“Since you’re acting all fucked up about it. First you sneak around, and now you’re like a grizzly woken up in the middle of his winter sleep. There’s plenty of fish in the sea if she turned out to be—”
“Shut your mouth,” I growl at him, capturing his gaze with a scowl that has him stumbling over the root of a tree. “You don’t know her. There’s no one else like her!”
His bright green eyes widen, but I don’t regret a word I said. Yeah, I’m pretending we’re talking about a girl, but I need to get it out somehow. It feels like my heart is rotting, and no one can see.
“So… what happened?” Prophet’s voice becomes softer and he pats my back. It’s a small gesture, I’m tempted to shrug it off, but I do appreciate it.
We slow down, making our way from the shore, past the now-empty volleyball court, toward Brigid’s cottage by the woods. My chest feels as if I packed it full of old lead bullets that are now slowly leaking poison into my system. I might not be able to pull Clyde against me, so getting comfort from Prophet has to be the next best thing. Even if he’d break my neck if he knew who I’m talking about.
“She was worried her family wouldn’t like her to date… you know, a biker, but everything was going well until she realized what I actually do. That I’m not just in it for the fun of riding a motorcycle.”
It doesn’t even begin to cover what actually happened, but I can’t risk telling on myself, so it’ll have to do.
Prophet nods, absentmindedly grabbing a pendant on one of his amulets. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be then, brother. You need someone who will embrace all of you.”
My heart whirs, as if it turned into a blender and started liquefying my insides. “No! You don’t get it! She is the one! She gets me. She looks at me in a way no one before him did. I don’t want any other!”
Prophet gives me the side-eye. “Okay, let’s… see what the cards say, hm? No tea.” It’s like he just came up with that, but we’ve been walking in the direction of Brigid’s house all along.
I don’t even know if Clyde misses me, or if he’s happy to be rid of the parasite that tried to burrow inside his chest. I hope he does. I hope he’s also thinking back to the dumb jokes exchanged by the fire, that he’s dreaming of my lips, and my presence at his side. I can’t get his sleeping face out of my head, and each time I wake up, it’s what I hope to see on the pillow next to me.
But I’m always disappointed.
Is there even a way to get him back after everything I’ve done?
I can’t take back what I did to his brother, but even if I could, I’d do it again, because the fucker deserved it, so we’re in a catch-22.
“Yeah, okay. Fine,” I tell Prophet and quicken my pace, because I’ve got nothing to lose.
We pass through a low gate that leads into the extensive herb garden where Luna is working on something under a giant sunhat. She reminds me of a baby bird with how dainty her wrists are, and when she glances at me with a shy smile and a little wave, I’m only more convinced that Roy got what he deserved.
But how do I make Clyde understand that? There’s a war brewing, we got some intel about the other Butcher chapter joining Grizzly’s at their clubhouse, and what if the next time I see Clyde I witness him getting shot? What if it’s Prophet who sends a bullet between those lovely blue eyes? I know he’s itching to.
“I’m gonna be sick,” I mumble just as we walk into Brigid’s home.
She frowns at me but rushes over with a bucket.
I grab it out of her hands and sink into a couch, my cheekbone and forehead resting against the edge of the plastic. A moment passes, and so does my nausea, but I let out a growl, surrounding myself with its echo.
Why does my life have to be so fucked-up? Why couldn’t Clyde be just a guy I met at a bar? Getting to grips with being in love with a man would be difficult enough, but at least it wouldn’t feel so… impossible.