Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I returned the favor with just as much enthusiasm, starting with a hungry dick suck and ending with a tongue fucking that had him biting his bicep to keep from scarring my mother with his cries of pleasure.
Fifteen minutes later, we stumbled out of the bathroom, dressed, sated, and ready to caffeinate so we could survive a long day of hanging around the hospital waiting room.
The hallway already smelled of coffee, which meant my mom had been able to get up and into her wheelchair by herself. It had been getting harder for her as the wounds on her feet progressed. Ryder pressed a kiss to my cheek and winked as though he understood without words what the delicious smell meant.
“Morning, Mom,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen, only to stop and frown at the scene before me.
Mom sat in her wheelchair at the table wearing the matching lilac sweat set I’d gifted her for Christmas. Her hair needed to be brushed, but that task had become difficult over the past few months, so I typically needed to help. Kenny sat at the table with her, wearing a wrinkled wife-beater and black flannel sleep pants. The bruising he’d suffered at the hands of a furious drug dealer had finally faded. That didn’t mean he looked good. Over the past weeks, he’d lost a lot of weight and had permanent dark rings under his eyes from long nights of drugged-out partying, minimal sleep, and crappy nutrition.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I took in the way they glared at each other across the table. Most of the time, Mom stayed out of Kenny’s messes. I tried to protect her from his antics as much as possible, but whatever she heard, she ignored for the most part, claiming he’d grow out of his ‘rebellious streak’ one day. To see her shooting daggers at him with her eyes had my stomach twisting. “Hello?” I said again when no one answered me. “What is going on?”
Ryder stayed quiet but didn’t leave. Maybe some would have thought he should have stepped out to give our family privacy, but the way he slid his hand against mine and linked our fingers, giving me his silent support, would forever stay in my mind. He was there for me, by my side.
I squeezed his hand as I said. “Someone needs to start talking right now.”
Mom shifted her gaze away from Kenny. “Your brother got arrested last night.”
My eyes widened. “Wha—”
“Again.”
“Oh shit,” Ryder whispered as my jaw hit the floor.
“What do you mean again?” I stared at my brother, who rolled his eyes like he was fifteen and caught staying out past curfew, not nineteen and spending time in jail. “Kenny, what is she talking about?”
He huffed an indignant sigh. “It’s nothing. The cops are fucking assholes. They have it out for me.”
My mom flinched at his language but didn’t interject.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What did you get arrested for?” Maintaining an even tone required considerable effort.
Ryder guided me to the table, pulled out a chair, and gently nudged me into it. Then he went to the coffee machine, where he pulled two mugs from the cabinet above our decade-old drip machine.
Kenny snorted and shook his head.
“Got something to say?” I asked as I narrowed my eyes.
“Excuse me. I’m going to finish getting ready.” Mom wheeled her motorized chair away from the table and down the hall toward her bedroom.
Part of me wanted to scoff and call her out on how she fled the scene every time her son caused a problem, and we needed to have a challenging conversation with the nineteen-year-old man-child who contributed jack squat to our little family. But as usual, I bit my tongue. She had enough on her plate without me pressuring her to discipline her adult son, especially on a surgery day.
But I never had a problem putting Kenny in his place. Not that it mattered to him. “Well?” I said as I folded my arms across my chest while Ryder sat next to me, setting my coffee in front of me. He’d picked up on how I drank it—one packet of sugar, no cream—before we’d even started dating and never failed to hand me the perfect cup. He, on the other hand, preferred a million shots of espresso, something we did not have in my house, but he’d never once complained about a mug of Folgers.
“Why’s he always gotta fucking be here?” Kenny asked with a near snarl. “Tired of hearing you two licking each other’s fucking assholes.”
My face burned, and anger simmered in my veins. “Jesus, Ken…” I knew this was his deflection, lashing out to keep us from talking about the real problem—his arrest. But still, I’d rather knock his teeth out than have Ryder subjected to this.”