Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 80664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
It was my turn to chuckle.
Maybe it would be a long ride for Bear, too.
He started off slowly, easing us down the driveway at a snail’s pace and keeping his movements slow. That’s when I noticed Pancakes keeping pace beside us until Bear twisted the throttle and we rocketed forward, leaving poor Pancakes to watch us leave from where he’d stopped at the end of the driveway.
Riding on the bike was nothing like I’d expected.
The wind. The speed. The adrenaline.
It was too much and not enough all at the same time. “Wooooooohoooooo!” I shouted, unable to help the excitement bubbling up inside of me.
It ended as quickly as it started as I quickly recognized the route Bear was taking. I’d hoped it was just a coincidence and that at any moment he was going to take the next exit. But when we passed the familiar cross on the side of the road and the WELCOME TO JESSEP sign, the dread settled in.
It was the last place I’d ever thought Bear would take me. As we sped down the dirt road that led to the even smaller dirt road where the Andrews Farm Road sign had been eaten entirely by the overgrown orange tree behind it, my stomach began to twist. I clutched onto Bear’s stomach tighter, digging my nails into his abs so he could feel how his choice of outing was affecting me. It was on this road where Bear had been shot and where he’d crashed his bike and killed two of his former brothers.
By the time we made it down the long gravel drive and parked in front of the little white house from my childhood, I felt downright nauseous.
The paint peeling off the siding seemed to have spread from just the side of the house that faced the sun, to every side. Most of the shingles were now missing. The grass below the front window now covered most of the dirty glass, completely blocking the fact that a window existed behind it. It seemed so much more rundown than the last time we’d seen it, but that wasn’t possible.
It had only been days.
“Why are we here…again?” I asked, ready to move forward and so tired of being stuck in all the crap that the house represented to me. I didn’t want to be there.
Bear got off and untied his chinstrap, setting his flimsily little helmet on the seat in front of me. He held out his hand for me to grab and I shook my head. “Nah uh,” I said, unwilling to move off of the bike and fogging up my helmet from the inside. “Tell me why we are here first.” I rung out my hands and nervously pulled on my fingers.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Bear asked.
“Honestly? I don’t know.” I looked at the broken screen of the front door and took in the uneven front porch. “I hate this place,” I said, and I meant it. There were very few things in the world I could say I honestly hated, and that poor excuse for a home, which held nothing but bad stacked on top of bad, was one of them.
“I know you do,” Bear said, grabbing my hand and dragging me off the bike. I took off my helmet and set it on the seat next to his. “When you told me about Rage suggesting that you two burn it down, you seemed to like that idea.” He shrugged. “So let’s fucking do it.”
“What?” I asked turning to him and searching his face for any signs of a joke.
There weren’t any.
“This is your idea of normal?” I asked, suddenly feeling the heaviness start to lift off my shoulders.
Bear lit a cigarette and tossed me the lighter, which I caught in my right hand. “Yeah,” he said, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out through his nose. Smoking isn’t supposed to be sexy, but holy mother of sin did Bear look hot doing it. “You know. A little lunch. A little fooling around. A little arson. It may not be normal, baby, but I’m thinking we shouldn’t use that word when it comes to us. ’Cause I’m thinking normal ain’t something the two of us are ever gonna be.” He was unusually quiet for a second, looking to the house and then back to me. “Let me ask you something, Ti.”
“Yeah?” I asked as he came to stand in front of me.
“Is that what you want? Normal?” he asked, scratching the shaved part of his head with the heel of his hand that held his cigarette.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t even know what normal is.”
He pointed to the house. “I imagine that it’s a house with a picket fence where the woman has dinner on the table every night at six thirty, and a man who is never late to eat that dinner and always places his napkin on his lap.”
I scoffed at the idea. “I hate to tell you, Bear, but your idea of normal is like the fifties. Also, it’s kind of sexist, and that entire scenario sounds really fucking boring.”
“You know what I mean. I can’t give you that. I don’t even know what that looks like,” Bear said, a crack of vulnerability breaking through the surface. “So tell me what you want. Be honest, because this might be the only time I ever ask you.”
I shrugged because the answer was an easy one. “You. I want you.”
Bear stubbed out his cigarette in the dirt and looked up to meet my gaze. “I’m no good for you, Ti.”
The words rang in between my ears and bounced around in my brain, yet no matter how many times I registered what he’d just said, I still couldn’t believe what I’d heard. “No good for me?” I asked. Heat crept up my throat as I stalked toward Bear, staring him down with everything I had in my little pink head. “Don’t you think I’m the one who gets to decide what’s good for me and what’s bad for me? And why is good or bad even a factor? Good, bad, right, wrong. How about I’m a fucking adult, and the only person who needs to be good for me, is me. You’re the man I love.” I pushed against his chest. Hard. But he stood firm, his face expressionless. “You may not make me a better person, but you make me the me I want to be.”