Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Fuck you, Rumi.”
“You know what I’m sayin’,” he argued, throwing up his hands. “This chick you’ve been pining for since you were a kid is back in your life. You gonna look up that gift horse’s ass?”
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.” He knew all the bullshit idioms he spouted. He fucked them up on purpose.
“I’m right,” he shot back. “This is what you’ve been waitin’ for, right? For fuck’s sake, little brother! She’s here, man! So, what if she’s got a couple kids?”
“I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if she has kids,” I snapped back, dropping the cigarette so I could crush it under my booth.
“Then why are you actin’ like a little bitch?”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, turning away from him. It was either that or hit him, and I didn’t feel like getting into a fistfight with my brother on the side of the highway. Someone would definitely call the cops.
“Not seein’ why you’re so worked up,” he said with a huff.
“She didn’t fuckin’ call.” I didn’t bother looking at him. I could feel his stare on the back of my head. “She knew that we’d come get her—no questions asked—and she still went along with all of it. Married some dude. If the fucker wouldn’t have bit it, you think we’d be havin’ this conversation? She’d still be up there, livin’ in her fifty-year-old trailer, poppin’ out kids that none of us even knew existed.”
“But he did and she’s here now,” Rumi said simply, clapping me on the shoulder. “So, what are you gonna do?”
I sighed and realized why they’d sent Rumi. Any of my other siblings would’ve listened to me rant. They’d be fucking sympathetic—something Rumi struggled with on a good day. He’d rather cut through the bullshit—which was ironic considering how long he’d been deliberately blind about his own love life. None of my other siblings had ever been able to get me out of my head the way Rumi did.
“I’m gonna get drunk as fuck and pass out in my gigantic fuckin’ house.” I walked back toward my bike.
“I mean, that’s not handlin’ the situation whatsoever,” he mused, following me. “But I’m down. I’ll see what Nova’s got goin’ on.”
“Who said you were invited?” I groused, pulling my helmet on.
“We’re family.” He grinned. “No invitation needed.”
Hours later, he was right—I hadn’t solved a single fucking thing, but thankfully, I could pretend that didn’t give a shit. The house was loud as fuck, someone had taken away Bas’s rights to the sound system, and I was laughing as Cian detailed a raunchy and seriously fucked up sexual encounter he’d had on his twentieth birthday.
“I didn’t know you were such a freak!” Frankie laughed. “Wait, do we know this chick?”
“You don’t,” he replied, pointing at her.
“What’s her name?”
“No names,” he said seriously, burping. “That shit’s not cool.”
“I bet we know her,” Frankie said to Lou, whose face was beet red with laughter.
“Doubt it,” Cian said, waving her off. “You guys are babies.”
“We’re not babies!” Lou argued.
“You were then,” he countered. “Middle schoolers or some shit.”
“Oh god.” Frankie fell back against the couch. “I forgot how old you guys are.”
“Hey,” I called out, pointing my beer at her. “I’m only two years older than you.”
“And we’re only a few years older than that,” Bas added with a laugh.
“And we’re older than all of you,” Nova grumbled, snickering as Rumi wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“Agin’ like a fine ass whiskey, sugar,” Rumi told her, grinning.
She whispered something to him, making him pull her onto his lap. The girls booed.
“None of that,” Myla ordered. “I haven’t puked yet and I’d rather wait until later.”
“Why would you say yet,” Lou asked, laughing. “You just jinxed yourself.”
“I was taking shots with Titus earlier,” Myla replied with a shrug. “It’s going to happen.”
“Not it!” Frankie yelled.
“Not it,” Lou said, almost as quickly.
“I don’t need either of you to hold my hair back,” Myla scoffed sticking her nose in the air.
“Right, because you know Cian will do it,” Lou joked before slapping her hand over her mouth.
“She’s on her own,” Cian joked, his lips twitching. None of us believed him, not even Myla who shot him a small smile.
“I don’t want your help anyway,” she shot back. “Who knows where those hands have been?”
“All of us know,” Bas cut in dryly. “He just told us and it was unpleasant.”
“Come on, Bas,” Frankie teased. “Tell us a story. You must have at least as many stories as Cian. You’re way hotter.”
“Hey,” Cian yelled.
“He’s got that bad boy thing going on,” Frankie said, waving her hand at Bas. “With the piercings.” Her eyes lit up. “Hey, Bas…do you have any other piercings in exciting places?”
“Sorry, doll,” he murmured in amusement. “That’s not a subject we’re discussin’.”
“You do!” she yelled, pointing at him. “You totally do!” She turned to me. “Doesn’t he?”