Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“I know,” she agrees quietly, letting out a deep breath as she looks up at him and stands as I grab my purse.
“Thank you for taking us out tonight,” Harris says as we head out of the bar that happens to be Molly’s favorite on Main Street. Not because it is known for great drinks, music, and dancing, which it is, but because the hamburgers, french fries, and milkshakes are some of the best in town.
“You know I love spending time with you guys,” I say as we make our way through the now-crowded space, with the two of them walking ahead of me.
As we near the exit, I see it before it even happens. Two guys stumble holding drinks, and Harris bumps into one of them on accident, causing the guy closest to him to spill his drink down the front of his shirt.
“Are you okay?” I hurry to Harris’s side, and he nods.
“What the fuck, retard?” the guy with the beer soaked shirt says, and I spin on him, shoving my hands against his chest.
“What did you just say?” I ask as rage courses hot and fierce through my system.
“Get out of my face, bitch,” he slurs as his friend pulls him back, and a hand wraps around mine, which is balled into a fist.
“I-t’s okay, April. Take us home please,” Harris says, getting close to me.
“April,” Molly whispers, sounding distressed, and I break my stare-down with the guy but only after taking in every single detail about him.
“Let’s get you two home.” My voice sounds tight even to my own ears as I take Molly’s hand, and Harris lets me go. When we get outside, I’m thankful for the cool evening air, because I need it to help tamp down my temper. Especially when all I really want to do is go back into the bar, jump behind the counter, grab the biggest bottle of Jack there is, and knock that idiot over the head with it. I know it doesn’t make me a very good person, but there are times in life when being good is overrated and people need to learn a lesson.
We get to my car in half the time it took us to make it inside the bar, and after Harris and Molly are both buckled in, I head out of the parking lot and take them home, wondering if maybe Molly’s mom is right. Maybe this judgmental, cruel world is too ugly for souls like theirs. Maybe it’s best that they are protected and sheltered from it.
When I get to their building, I walk them to their door and make sure they are inside before I get back in my car and head home, my chest still feeling heavy with anger. I reach my house a few minutes later, pull into my driveway, shut down the engine, then stare at my front door. Knowing that nothing but silence will greet me once I get inside, I debate going to my parents’ house for the night. My mom still keeps a room set up for me and my sisters, and I could use some company.
Just when I start to place my hand on the key that is still in the ignition, my front door opens, and I blink, sure that I’m seeing things when Maxim leans against the doorjamb, his eyes meeting mine through the windshield. His head tips to the side, his expression going soft as my heart starts to beat out of control, then he pushes off the frame and starts toward my car. I hold my breath as he gets closer, and my nose stings as he opens my door, reaching for me.
“You’re here,” I say like an idiot as he pulls me out of my car and wraps his arms around me.
“I told you I wouldn’t be gone long.” He kisses my neck, my jaw, then my lips when I tip my head back so I can see his face. When his eyes lock with mine, his fill with concern. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I admit, pulling my gaze off his so I can burrow into his chest and wrap my arms around his waist. “I had a bad day.”
His body against mine grows stiff while his hand slides up my back and into my hair, then his fingers wrap around the strands, and he tugs my head back so I have no choice but to look at him.
“What happened?” The worry mixed with anger in his voice and expression lets me know I should tread carefully.
“It was nothing really.” I place my hands against his chest, not sure how he will react to me telling him that Cohen showed up at my showing today or what happened at the bar, even though he doesn’t really know Harris or Molly.
“You look like you want to cry, so it has to be something.” The back of his fingers smooth along my cheek, then around the tip of my ear.