Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“They’re … uh … not around.”
“That sucks. Want to walk together? We’re going the same way.” He points in the direction Rhys ran.
Again, the urge to shoot him down is there, but I suddenly have no voice at all. All I can do is gesture for him to lead the way. I can do this.
I made friends last year … well, friend. But I can do it again. Maybe. Cohen seemed to like me in spite of my attitude. I tested him and his boyfriend repeatedly with my stupidity. They both took it in stride, though I’m fairly certain Cohen’s boyfriend wanted to punch me a few times. I would’ve welcomed it if he did.
That said, making friends with Kole, specifically, seems like a recipe for disaster. I’m a fuckup. Sometimes on purpose. And fucking up with Kole is risky when Coach holds the entire season in his hands.
“Asher?” Kole asks, and I realize I spaced out.
“Right. Walk.”
Just a walk.
With Coach’s son.
4
Kole
Asher Dalton is … unexpected.
His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and his shoulders are drawn up like he wants to retreat inside them like a shell. Everything about him is coiled tight. Defensive. It’s a difference from earlier in the locker room. Before, his green eyes were intense and dark. Out here, under the streetlights, they’re dull and weighted with defeat.
His lips are turned down, and we slip into silence as we leave the dog park.
When I’d seen Asher tonight, my first thought was that he was meeting a dealer or something. The way Coach Dalton asked for help, my immediate thought went to him being into the kinds of things that could get him kicked off the team, and with the way he was antsy and pacing … Well, yeah, him looking for his little brother was the last thing on my mind.
Knowing the real reason behind his anxious twitching, I can’t help being intrigued.
This afternoon, I labeled him as a troubled asshole. Now, he’s … loving brother?
It doesn’t add up.
I try not to smile as he glances my way again. “Do I have something in my teeth?”
“I’m wondering how long it’s going to take you to explain—” he waves a hand toward Hades “—that.”
“My dog?” I play dumb but know exactly what he’s asking.
“Yeah, what happened to the poor guy’s face?”
I’ve had him for years, so I’m mostly unaffected by it, but every time Hades meets someone new, the questions start. “He was a shelter dog. All they could tell us is he has bull terrier in him, but it’s obvious he’s a mix of a million different breeds too. He’s a true mutt. When animal rescue saved him, he was in a pretty bad way.” Clearly. “They mentioned it was acid burns.” It’s not often I get angry, or want to hurt people, but thinking about what poor Hades went through always sets off a twist deep in my chest. He lost an ear, and one whole side of his face has been burned, so his eye is fused shut and teeth are exposed in places. They were worried his experiences would mean he’d be too aggressive and untrusting to be rehomed, but he’s just your average puppy wanting love and affection—who happens to have a mangled face.
“You named your dog, who’s had his face burned off, after a cartoon character with fire on his head?”
The disbelief in Asher’s tone brings me back to the moment. “Hades was god of the underworld. If my dog hasn’t mastered death, I don’t know who has.”
“Still think Hellhound suits him better.”
“You sensing a kindred spirit?”
“Mutual troublemakers. He looks like he hates being told what to do too.” He points at where Hades is tugging hard on his leash. He’s never been great at walking. “What made you pick him out of all the other dogs?”
“Not sure, really. It was a feeling. There were a few others I wanted, but you know that moment, where you set your eyes on something and just know? We were meant for each other.”
Asher stares at Hades. “Can’t say I know the feeling.”
I can sense his mood taking a dive again. “So, do you get all your general knowledge from cartoons?”
“Pretty much. They’re about my intellect level.” Asher grins. It almost reaches his eyes. “But, uh, having a heap of younger siblings will do that.”
“Are they all younger? There were … four, did you say?”
“Five. Plus me and West.”
“Wow.”
He shakes his head roughly. “What about you?”
“Only child. Wish I had siblings.”
He opens his mouth to throw something back but stops himself. “They’re mostly okay.”
Silence slips between us again. Normally, I’m great at small talk. I can hold a conversation with anyone. Professors, my friends, the researchers at my internship. When you grow up ugly, you learn to accommodate. He has a great personality applied strictly to me until senior year of high school.