Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
I squeeze his hands and rub them to chase away the chill in his fingers. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve never been mad at you for what happened. Only grateful you put a stop to it and let me live with you.”
“I would’ve sooner if…”
“You were busy taking care of Grandpa right up until the end.” Tears prick my eyes. Remy’s had to deal with a lot of death. We both have. But since he’s older, and our mom was an only child, the responsibility of taking care of our grandparents fell on Remy’s shoulders.
“You helped me.” He pats the back of my hand. “More than you realize, kiddo. Grandpa loved having you around after school. Just sitting with him, talking to him, made him really happy.”
I shrug and shift my gaze to the windshield. “I hope so. I still miss both of them so much.”
“Me too.” He lets out a sad, strangled sound and releases my hands. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
We get out of the truck and Remy waits for me by the front bumper. He stares at the ground and toes his boot against a loose piece of gravel.
“I feel like I’m constantly fucking shit up here.” He tips his head back and squints at the night sky. “I wish so bad Grandpa was around to tell me what the fuck to do sometimes.” Remy’s rarely ever so raw and honest with me.
I sigh and touch his shoulder. “Why don’t you let me help? I could be working at night and helping my own family instead of the Miller family.”
He slings his arm over my shoulders and hugs me to his side. “Honestly? I can’t afford to pay you.” He glances at the closed door and lowers his voice. “I gotta keep Lynette on. I promised Grandpa she’d always have a job. And I can’t lose Anderson, otherwise I’d never get a night off.”
Well, shoot. I didn’t realize things were that bad. “You don’t have to pay me. I’m family. I’ll come in after work and—”
“No.” He releases me and opens the back door, holding it open for me to go inside first. Dim, yellow lighting gives the hallway leading to the main part of the bar a dated but homey feel.
Remy steps in behind me and closes the door tight, then motions for me to follow him into the office on our right.
The second Remy snaps on the overhead lights, I’m flooded with memories of our grandparents. The double desk Nana and Grandpa shared is still covered in papers, although Remy keeps Grandpa’s side neater now. Nana’s side has cardboard file boxes lined up in a row. I spent many hours entertaining myself in this office when I was little. Sadness threatens to pull me away, but I drag my attention back to what Remy’s sharing with me.
“…This thing we’re setting up with the Lost Kings MC, it’s already helping the bar a little.” He glances at the paper-strewn desk and waves his hand over the clutter. “They’ve had a few…events here. Sent us new customers and stuff. Their treasurer is a really smart business guy. He’s going to help me out with a few things.” He rolls his eyes, but a smile curves his lips. “If I can stand listening to all his other life advice.”
“Oh.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. “So all these visits and road trips with the Lost Kings haven’t just been about partying with a motorcycle club? It’s business?”
“Yeah, some of it.” He frowns and glances at the door behind me. “And that’s more than I should tell you. Do not repeat any of what I said. To anyone. Not Hayden—no one.”
“What about Griff?”
He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth turns up. “Yeah, you can tell him. But don’t give him a hard time if he doesn’t share a lot of details, though, okay?”
“I won’t.” I hesitate. Maybe I should drop this since Remy doesn’t seem to want to tell me too much. “I like the Lost Kings. I mean, you haven’t let me hang around with them a lot, but when I have, it’s been fine. Heidi’s always been kind to me. And Shelby’s so cool.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “Heidi’s never questioned you or anything?”
“Questioned me?” I cock my head and stare at him. “About what?” I frown, trying to remember our brief conversations. Cars, boys, school. Normal stuff. “No. She’s fun to talk to.”
“Good. I’m sorry I haven’t let you come to more events. I just want to keep you safe.” He pauses again. “It’s a motorcycle club, you know.”
“Because…a motorcycle club is more dangerous than all the cage fighters and degenerate gamblers you associate with?” I don’t even bother to keep the sarcastic disbelief out of my tone.