Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“Quite a damn while.” I’m sure the reason for his salt and pepper hair turning grayer by the day has a lot to do with the two females in his life. Mom and I are a force to be reckoned with. We look alike, we talk alike, and we act a lot alike, too. We also march to the beat of our own drum. You can’t tell us what we’re doing is wrong even if it’s true. What can I say, we’re the type of people who have to learn from our mistakes, much to his chagrin.
“I figured. Hey, Dad, I have a question for you.” I’m probably showing my hand when I shouldn’t, but it’s been a few days. A few days that I’ve driven by the station on my way to run an errand, going a bit out of my way to look for his truck like a freaking stalker. I’m not this person, not usually, but when I tell you his dick has me hooked, I am hooked. Fletcher Wild also has a personality women dream of, dark brown hair mixed with shots of blond from the sun, warm green eyes that can change in intensity depending on what is going on around him, taut muscles, and the man has no problem holding you after knocking your socks off.
“Yeah?” He brings me into his side with his arm wrapping around my shoulder.
“Fletch, is he around? I’d like to thank him for helping me out of the jam I was in earlier this week.” Not a complete and total lie, maybe pushing the truth a bit. Luckily, I know how to keep my body language loosey goosey, or Dad would see right through me.
“He’s out for the week. The town is putting together a memorial for his parents, and he asked for some time off.” Well, damn. Now I feel worse. Here I am, thinking with my vagina, when everyone knows the Wild’s parents were taken tragically by a car accident. It was all too soon, and they were way too young to lose family like they did.
“Ah, well, I’ll have to figure something out to thank him,” I suggest, poking the bear into giving me some useful information.
“Hmm, not sure what he’d like. Your mom might. She brings all kinds of stuff to the station.”
“Thanks, Dad, I’ll ask her and go from there.” I give him a sideways hug and start to open my door when he steps in front of me.
“Anytime. Don’t be a stranger at the dinner table this weekend, okay?”
“I’ll be there.” I had to work one weekend, and he’s yet to let me live it down. I’m a freelance accountant. Numbers are my thing, plus I like to work for myself, which means sometimes your hours are when you make them.
“I’ve heard that before.” He holds the door open until I slide into the seat.
“Once, I’ve missed a dinner, and you’re going to hold it over my head. Wasn’t it you last time who missed it?” I joke with him.
“You got me there, sweet pea. Drive safe, and I’ll see you soon.” My finger hits the push start button on the ignition, we finish our goodbyes, and I’ve got a game plan set in motion.
Chapter 2
Fletch
Damn, I was hoping this year would be the year I wouldn’t drink myself into a fucking stupor. Since the day I turned eighteen, you could find me taking the day off, sitting on my back porch overlooking the trees with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, taking long and deep pulls until it was empty. When I wasn’t home, I’d continue my journey into self-destruction wherever my feet landed. It didn’t matter the location as long as I had solitude. I allowed myself one day a year to mourn the loss of our parents. Six boys left behind when they were too damn young and taken away from us too fucking soon.
Asher and Beau asking me to meet them at the bar with the news of our parents having a monument of sorts donated in their name twenty years later, and grief still has the power to allow the darkness to creep inside. We had a few drinks. I had more than my brothers, and I damn sure didn’t drive. I sent a text to the Chief the next morning to let him know it would be another few days until I’d be back at the station. I’m fortunate in the sense of the word that I’ve yet to take a long period of time off except a day or two here and there, or I’m sure he’d have told me to get my ass to work. Now I’m hanging at home until I feel like I’d be worth enough to actually work. They brought me back home the other night, where I continued drinking. It was my own fault to be suffering the consequences of my own actions. I’m old enough to know better but still too young to care.