She’s suddenly hurled forward, being replaced with a blonde vixen who’s more my type and won’t keep her ass out of my shit. The bag in her hands is propelled into my rib cage as I meet Emmy’s honey eyes that are behind white and floral-rimmed glasses.
“Here’s lunch, douchebag,” she sneers then proceeds on, obviously not missing Blue’s pointless comment.
My dumbass doesn’t allow the opportunity to go by without checking out how her jeans cup her voluptuous backside and thighs as she angrily stomps inside my place. Somewhere she’s never been before.
However, before I’m even to let that thought form entirely, Mills interrupts and tries for another hug before I palm his forehead and drive him back.
“Always the dickhead,” he disappointingly mutters.
Then Marty.
“Thanks for the wedding gift,” he imparts. “Just know your money was well spent.”
Ah, yes, my wedding gift.
Since I had to split from helping Marty with his own personal issues, I sent up a guy I knew that liked virgin ass—literally. My B723 brother had a bone to pick with the asshole who laid fingers on his now wife. So, I made up for my absence.
“Anytime,” I deadpan. “Congratulations on the nuptials.”
“Which you should’ve been at.” His green eyes morph into displeasure then understanding. “But I get it now. We’ll hit the bar when this shit is all over. You owe me a bachelor party.”
He smacks my shoulder then joins everyone else before Kyson begins to walk up. I block his entrance.
“What the hell did I tell you to do?” I sneer. “Since when do you have such a big fucking mouth?”
“Since your family was worried sick,” he retorts, not reflecting an ounce of regret in his shitty decision making. “So, if you don’t want them to be here or keep calling you, they’re all in there, buddy. Tell them yourself. If not—” He steps up another step. “—get the fuck out of my way so we can end this shit.”
“What shit? I already handled Bubba.”
“Didn’t you want to check in to make sure there are no loose ends?” My eyes narrow. “Thought so.”
Kyson hits the back of my head—hard—to express his feelings about keeping my location on the DL.
I allow it.
Busting his lip open will only cause more time with all of them here and Emmy bitching at me for being ungrateful and a class-A prick.
“Why the fuck did you bring them to the trailer?”
“Did you want me to bring them to the house so they could meet Hardy and Scar? I figured you’d be here hiding away from them.”
“Fuck off.”
He smiles at me because he’s right. “Thought so again.”
I glower at him. “I can’t wait to learn your little secret that you’re holding from everyone,” I mutter. “It’ll be fun bringing the fam there.”
Kyson stares back at me with confidence glossed in his eyes. “Good luck, brother. Make sure you bring me lunch.”
With seven people in the trailer, it’s crammed, but everyone seems to be doing something to help.
Marty and Mills are hovering over Chuck at the dining room table like a pack of wild dogs ready to rip his throat out. Blue casually watches, legs crossed on the mint green couch with faded and ripped embroidered roses. Emmy sits on the other side, quiet and pounding away at her laptop. The screen lighting up her features, causing me to steal glances.
Thankfully, she hasn’t stolen one at me or spoken since she’s arrived. And it’s more for my sake than hers because I feel guilty about what I said yesterday.
I don’t want to hurt Emmy, period. Regardless of what she make think or believe.
I’ve never wanted to.
But I did anyway so that she couldn’t batter and bruise me any more than she has and did. The further Emmy stays away, the more I can function freely because I haywire when she doesn’t.
Meanwhile, she made me so anxious to the point of feeling like a complete failure in her warm eyes. Obviously, my shitty words about her failing Marty must’ve hit the mark I was aiming for, but it didn’t solve my problem of her going home.
Emmy does not belong in a trailer park.
She doesn’t belong in my life.
And as much as I want her to reside in my bed, it comes with additional actions that aren’t just us fucking and remaining quiet.
Nah, my blonde bombshell likes to pillow talk and ask questions.
Kyson shifts next to me, arms crossed along his chest and the most normal thing in this place. His being here settles my already tested nerves because this is our home. He knows what Shady Grove is made out of and the people that come through or live in it. That the moment you step outside, your ass could get shot, stabbed, or called out for a fight.
“Sooo...this isn’t working,” Kyson drawls low at my side. “He’s high as fuck, and nothing Mills or Marty does is going to make him talk.”
“We should send in something prettier then.” I look over at him then jerk my head to Blue. “Bet she gets him to spill. Dude looks like the only thing he fucks is his hand.”
This so-called guy who calls himself Crackhead Chuck was the furthest description in my mind when I envisioned him. He’s the textbook definition of a nerd. Thick, black-rimmed glasses, scrawny and tall, appears to have accelerated in school and more than likely got his ass beat a few times just for being smart and socially awkward.
“Philly steak and cheese sub from Old Tymers, and you’re on.”
I hold out my hand for him to shake. “Deal.”
Kyson takes it, then plops down between the girls and extends an arm over both of their bodies comfortably.
Emmy glimpses over and away from her laptop for the first time in over an hour, giving him a smile at what my best friend just whispered before returning back to whatever she’s doing.
Speaking of geeks, Kyson is beyond lucky that he’s shown no interest in
