Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“By letting her back into The Manor?”
“By letting her back into The Manor,” I mimic.
“And your life,” Drew adds quietly.
“Exactly. I can’t do it, especially not now.”
Drew’s smooth face wrinkles. “Especially not now, what?”
I chomp on my lip, trying to hold my tongue, trying to . . . not trying at all. “Especially now that Ava’s pregnant.”
This must be one of a handful of times that I’ve rendered Drew Davies speechless. His blue eyes blink rapidly, and then as if his brain has caught up and reminded him of a previous conversation we recently had, he gasps. “That’s fucked up, Jesse.”
Shame eats me alive. “I appreciate the circumstances aren’t ideal, but—”
“Ideal?”
“What’s ideal?” Sam asks, appearing at the bar, looking between us.
“Are you going to tell him, or am I?” Drew asks.
Fuck me, am I on trial? I motion to Drew with a limp hand on a tired breath. “Go for it, Dad.”
“Ava’s pregnant,” he declares.
“Oh, my man, that’s awe—” A frown hops onto Sam’s forehead. “Wait.” A recoil. “She’s pregnant because you stole her pills.” A gasp. “Fucking hell, Jesse.”
I fold over the bar and bury my face in my palms.
“Yes, you hide from the judgments,” Drew says. “As you should.”
“I’m not proud,” I mutter. “I realize I’ve done wrong.”
“Do you?” Sam blurts. “Do you really?”
“I don’t think he does,” Drew pipes in.
I stare into my darkness.
“Me neither,” Sam breathes.
That’s it. Enough. “You’re both barred,” I bark, standing abruptly and marching out of the bar. “You can leave now.”
“Wait, what?” Drew’s chasing my heels instantly, Sam not far behind. “You can’t bar us.”
“Yeah, you can’t bar us.”
“I just did.” I stalk through the summer room. “Shut the door on your way out.”
“Jesse,” Drew says on a nervous laugh. “Be reasonable.”
“I’m not long off the back of a breakup, mate,” Sam says, urgency in his tone. “Have some mercy, for God’s sake, man.”
John’s still sifting through paperwork when I push my way into the office, looking for those boundary plans. Anyone would think he wants me to sell The Manor. He glances up at the three of us.
“He’s barred us,” Drew barks. “Talk some sense into him, John.”
“There’s no talking sense into that man.” He returns to his task, unfazed by my two panicked mates.
I get myself some water and text Ava again.
How are you feeling?
Better.
I roll my eyes and tip the bottle to my lips. “If you two can find the plans John’s looking for, I might reconsider.” I point to the piles of paperwork. Four sets of hands are better than one.
“What do you think of this?” Drew asks John. “Really, what do you think?” He plonks himself on the couch, sitting forward, elbows on his knees, interested.
John looks over his shades. “What do I think about what?”
“Him,” Drew practically screeches. “Stealing his girlfriend’s pill—”
“She’s my wife.”
“She was your girlfriend when you stole them,” he says, and I pipe down, in no position to retaliate.
“I think you’re being rather judgmental,” John muses, still fingering his way through endless paperwork, “considering you restrain women with chains.”
“What?” Sam looks at Drew, stunned. “Chains? Since when?”
“Is anything around here confidential?” Drew barks, throwing his hands up.
“It’s The Manor,” John says to the papers in his hand. “Not a fucking STD clinic. Which reminds me”—he picks up more paperwork and waves it—“you two are a week late on your routine tests.”
“Oh, then you’re definitely barred,” I say, lowering to the couch and crossing one leg over the other, all casual. “Maybe I’ll reinstate you when you confirm you’re clean.”
“I didn’t think I’d need tests if I was sticking to one woman,” Sam mutters.
“But she’s dumped you for Ava’s tosser of a brother,” Drew says, making everyone in the room flinch, including Sam. Harsh.
“And what about you?” I ask Drew, making him shoot a surprised look my way. “Why are you late?” Drew is never late with his tests. Absolutely never.
“Yeah, what about you?” Sam sings like a fucking brat.
“Fuck off,” Drew spits, standing, outraged. “I’ve been . . .” He scowls. “Distracted.”
“By what?”
“Just . . . it’s . . .” He trips up all over his words, getting more and more worked up. “Things!” he barks, storming out, making a good job of slamming the door behind him. We all flinch at the sound.
“What’s eating him?” John asks calmly.
“He’s fine,” Sam mutters, leaving too. “I suppose I ought to go get those tests.” He stops at the door and grabs his dick, thrusting into his hand. “I’ve got some catching up to do.”
He opens and slams too, and I look at John, eyebrows high. “Think I upset them?”
“Maybe.” He returns to his search but we both look up again when the door swings open and both my mates stand on the threshold with dirty, confused frowns on their faces.
“What plans?” they ask in unison.