Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I’d sufficiently scared the absolute piss out of him; literally and figuratively. Then I went to see the sister, who I deduced was on drugs. She was as high as a kite when I got there and wasn’t even smart enough to be worried that I was walking into her own damn living room without invitation.
I’d never spoken to Winter about the conversation I’d had with her sister or her sister’s boyfriend. I didn’t plan to now, either.
“What do you do for a living?” She asked quietly.
She was obviously trying to avoid what she really wanted to know, so I answered her, letting her have the time she needed to work up the courage to ask what was on her mind.
“We rebuild bikes, work on custom cars, custom make bikes, pretty much an eclectic range of things.” I answered thoughtfully. Purposefully steering around the Freebird topic for the time being.
“My sister is a bad person, isn’t she?” She asked, finally getting to the question at hand.
I didn’t know how to answer that. Although I spoke with her once a year, I didn’t really know her that well. I just wanted to be sure that she was okay, and not doing something against her will like she was all those years ago.
“She’s not on drugs from as far as I can tell. She cleaned up about two and a half years ago. Other than when I call her, I never hear from her. I wasn’t in the country when they had your funeral. She wouldn’t wait. For the first three years, she was really hostile towards me and I never understood why.” I said, clearing my throat.
Reliving those first few years was hard. I was a fucking mess. If it wasn’t for my team, I would have been a goddamn goner. I went through life as if I was indestructible. Hell, if I was being truthful with myself, I’d been acting that way since the day I found out about her death. Or non-death. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it.
“I think I’m ready for bed. Is that alright?” She said as she absently ran her hand against my t-shirt covered chest.
“Yeah, Winnie. Yell at me if you need anything.” I said, curling her into my chest and hugging her.
She left the room shortly after that, and I listened while she went through the bedtime routine that she used to do all those years ago. Shower. Bathroom. Brush her teeth. Smear lotion onto her feet. Then slipping on socks and an oversized t-shirt. Seven years ago, she used to wear my t-shirt to bed and then snuggle up against me. I vowed then and there that I would have that back. No matter what it took.
Digging out the phone from my pocket, I decided to check in with Adam to see how things were going.
“Hello?” Adam answered.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, man. I was just about to call you. How’s Winter doing?” He asked.
There was an odd tone in his voice as he asked, which made me aware that something was bothering him. “She’s okay. Something wrong?”
He coughed, and then I heard the alarm from the fire station sounding in the background. “I’m sorry, man. I gotta go. I’ll call you after my shift.”
The line clicked after he disconnected, and I couldn’t help but feel annoyed that the call had been interrupted. I just hoped he wasn’t into something he shouldn’t be. The man had a knack for finding trouble. I had the scars to prove it.
***
I blearily opened my eyes and stared at the shadows playing along the ceiling. Something had woken me. Closing my eyes again when I didn’t hear anything, I started to drift back to sleep when I heard it again.
Knocking. Light knocking. On my door.
My mind cleared of the sleep induced fog instantly and I came awake with a rude start.
“Jack?” Winter whispered.
I was on my feet in the next instant pulling the door open. Winter had on a white oversized t-shirt that hung to about mid-thigh. Her hair was down and in a curly, gnarled mess that surrounded her face. She also had tears staining her cheeks.
Grabbing her hand and pulling her into my arms I asked, “What’s wrong, Winnie?”
Her breathing was a little fast, and I could feel her heart pounding against the wall of her chest. Tears started to slide down my bare chest, and I started to really get concerned.
It wasn’t like Winter to cry. She was a strong, proud girl and she saw crying as a weakness. She told me of the times she had to keep her tears at bay or her psycho mother would flip her switch and start in on her. Consequently, Winter learned to suppress any and all emotion. She buried her reactions so deep that it was hard for her to show them at times.
“I had a nightmare. I don’t really want to talk about it, but I was wondering if I could sleep on the floor, or something, in your room. Please.” She whispered desolately.
Leaning my head down, I let my forehead rest against hers. “You can sleep in my bed. Fuck. That’s what I’ve wanted for what feels like a lifetime. To have you steal the covers in the middle of the night. For you to put your cold ass feet in between my thighs. For you to accidentally knee me in the balls. For you to flail and kick. God. I even miss hearing you talk in your sleep. I’d give you the world if you wanted me to.”
“I don’t talk in my sleep!” She said indignantly.
I noticed she didn’t deny any of the other accusations.
Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I tugged her behind me to the bed and held the covers up for her to crawl under. “Sure you don’t. In you go, Winnie.”
As I released her wrist, I felt the scars that ran up the inside of her wrists, and my heart clenched. I didn’t want to ask her about those either, but I knew those didn’t come from her surgeries. They came from something that tore my heart out and ripped it into a million tiny pulverized pieces.