Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 81584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
By the time I was invited to the Aces end of summer party, I’d maintained the façade for so long without anyone saying anything that I’d thought I was getting away with it. Maybe I got sloppy about hiding it…or maybe everyone around me had seen it happen so gradually that they hadn’t even noticed that it was.
I should’ve anticipated that at some point someone was going to realize that I was hanging on by a thread.
And of course, that someone was Gray.
Chapter 8
Gray
“This might be the longest quiet we’ve had…ever,” my dad said with a huff, lifting his beer to his lips. “Fuckin’ brace, boy. If history is any indication, shit’s gonna go real sideways before too long.”
“You think?” I murmured, leaning against the wall as I looked over the crowd. Everyone had shown up for the end of summer party, and there were kids and wives and Aces covering the entire yard. The forecourt was filled with bikes and cars. Someone had even set up a kiddie pool and sprinkler in the grass, and the kids were screaming with glee.
“Wish it wasn’t true,” he said with a shrug as he met my mom’s eyes across the yard. “But it usually is. Never stays peaceful for long.”
“I’m not hearin’ anything,” I replied.
“Doesn’t mean shit. The smart ones are quiet.”
“No one is ever that quiet,” I countered. My network was precise and extensive. I had eyes and ears everywhere.
“We’ll see,” he mused, walking away toward my mom.
I was glad for the excuse to see everyone. The clubhouse was usually pretty busy on the weekends, but there was only so much bullshitting I could do with the old timers before I started feeling ancient myself. I didn’t have a ton of friends—at least not ones that I wanted to spend time with—and the group of younger brothers that I actually did like hanging with hadn’t been partying as much lately.
Fuck it. I was full of shit. I hadn’t heard from Frankie, and I was fucking jonesing to see her. I’d had plenty going on. I’d spent some time at Otto’s setting up a little bike track for his oldest two kids. I’d gone to the fair with most of the Hawthornes and all their kids. I’d hung out with Harper the night she was in town. It wasn’t like I’d been sitting at home by myself. I just hadn’t laid eyes on Francesca Marino in far too long, and it had started making me twitchy weeks ago. Cian had mentioned that they’d all be at the party, and I’d decided there was no way I’d miss it.
When they finally pulled up, I straightened and watched as they parked. Cian and Myla were on the bike and easy to spot, but I didn’t let out a little breath of relief until Lou and Frankie opened their doors and climbed out of Lou’s car.
“I fucking knew it,” my mom sang with a laugh, poking me in the side as she sashayed past with Aunt Rose.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Aunt Rose joked.
I waved them off without looking away from the women walking across the forecourt.
Something was off. I looked between Lou and Frankie. They were carrying drinks, and Frankie had a reusable grocery bag over her shoulder.
As they got closer, I realized that I was gaping at them and fixed my face. I couldn’t contain the fury that filled my chest though. That seemed to be out of my control.
She looked like hell. The shorts and T-shirt she wore were hanging on her, and I knew those shorts, I’d stared at those shorts, they’d cupped her ass like a goddamn work of art before.
Frankie laughed, and I nearly winced as I glanced at Lou to see if she noticed how brittle the sound was. She hadn’t. She was chattering away about something, grinning, like everything was fine.
I wasn’t going to make a fucking scene. People were always making a goddamn scene at these things, like no one would notice. Everyone noticed. They enjoyed that shit. Everyone wanted to know what was going on with everyone else, and they thrived on the drama of it all. It wasn’t even malicious. They just loved to see the shit play out instead of hearing it second or third hand.
“You made it,” Otto said, walking up beside me. “When did you get here?”
“About the time that Ansel shot you in the face with the squirt gun.”
“Which time?” Otto asked drolly. “What are you doin’ standin’ over here alone?”
“Was talkin’ to my dad, but he took off,” I answered distractedly, watching Frankie as she moved through the crowd saying her hellos.
“What are you lookin—oh,” Otto said as he turned to see. “Myla here, too?”
“She and Cian went inside with some food.”
“Why are we staring at Frank and Lou?” Otto asked curiously, taking a drink of his beer.