Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
42
BILLIE
The night had only started.
Dusty tried to intervene, but Doubard’s date ignored her, shooting her hand instead toward me. “Goodness me. Where are my manners? I’m Brandi. How are you? Well, maybe don’t answer that one. We all know how you’re doing. Not good, right? I wouldn’t be good if I were you.”
She was beautiful. All the women here were gorgeous, each in their own way, but Brandi’s beauty was forced. It felt brittle. She didn’t have the natural glow like Kayla or Dusty. With long legs and slender arms, she was thin, but it wasn’t healthy. Not like with Emma, who was also slender, but whose skin was a lovely cream. Both women were similar weight, but one glowed from the inside out and the other’s glow was forced. Brandi’s voice was husky, a sexy deep-throated sound that teased a slight Southern accent. Curly brown hair, green eyes. She had a little bit of a round face, and her makeup was done flawlessly.
At first glance, there was nothing that made her stand out from the other women.
At a second look, she was nothing like the other women.
Scanning around the backyard, it seemed everyone was aware except Colby Doubard. He was holding tightly to a beer and scowling in the distance.
I shook Brandi’s hand. “Yes. Hi. I’m Billie.”
“Billie.” Her lips drew into a wide smile. “God. I love it. Not Willow? Billie is such a heartwarming but hick-sounding nickname, isn’t it?” She looked to Kayla and Emma for confirmation but didn’t wait for it. “Tell me everything. You were, like, extremely poor, right? That’s what the last documentary on the Midwest Butcher was saying. Did you interview with them? Do you get paid for that? How much do you get paid for each interview? Though, I suppose it’s different with each one. I really liked the last documentary done on your life. They went more in depth about you and about, God forbid, what happened with your mom and brother. And no father? They never mentioned a father. Didn’t your mom drive into a river? Were you in the foster system ever since then? Do you think your mom went into the river on purpose?”
“Brandi!” Dusty shoved to her feet, glaring.
I stilled.
She didn’t notice. “The documentaries always say it was an accident, but they imply there was more to it. Was there? She was probably in such shock from what her daughter went through and wasn’t paying attention. And your brother too.”
“Oh my God.” Kayla got to her feet. “Stop talking.”
So still now. I was almost a statue.
She wouldn’t stop. “I grew up with my grandmama. My mom, bless her heart, she gave me up to meth when I was twelve. The same age when you went through all your stuff.”
My stuff.
My stuff?
Dusty yelled, “Shut the fuck up!”
Brandi wasn’t reacting, like this sort of reaction happened all too often. “I’ve always felt that we were connected. You and me. We both went through similar things at the same age—losing our moms.”
This was another reaction that I got in foster homes, at school, from neighbors.
I felt Kayla and Emma’s horror. When I looked up, they were shell-shocked, and the old Billie—the person I’d been able to be when I got here, the fangirl, the awkwardly shy one, and the one starting to feel like maybe she’d met some new friends—that Billie shifted to the back.
I became Willow Harm.
I hadn’t wanted to be Willow Harm tonight.
Then Brett was moving my way, and my body warmed, needing him, knowing he was coming to help in some way.
His eyes were stormy, his jaw tight, but Brandi preened as he stopped behind me. His hand went to my back.
I leaned into him. I couldn’t have even stopped myself. My body jerked toward him, and he shifted, moving so his side was against me and I rested all my weight into him.
Brandi paid no attention to any of this, but she should’ve because Brett spoke, his tone flat, “Doubard.”
Their quarterback’s head snapped in our direction. He’d been in the back with the others, and they were all now taking in that something had happened. A dark look flickered in his gaze, but he stomped it down as he made his way to the table. “What’s up?” He was eyeing the other women.
Brett’s hand was solid on my back.
A little trickle of awareness spread down my back from his touch. It was pooling at my spine. It was waiting.
Stone moved closer. “Babe?”
Dusty seethed, “We’re okay.” He still went to her, and after a second, she leaned against him. He smoothed some of her hair back and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m aware this is more your friend group, but if you don’t get your woman to stop talking to mine, I’m going to fix this situation my way. I don’t think anyone wants me to do it my way.” Brett’s voice was low, but the warning in it got everyone’s attention. His gaze went to Brandi and his voice matched his eyes as he said, “When I shut women up, I don’t tend to be nice.”