Torn (The McKerricks Book 1) Read Online Free

hear Gwen’s laughter bubble up, she never was able to stay angry at anything for very long. “Well it sucks to be on that side of the fence doesn’t it big brother."
    “ What the fuck are you talking about?” I snap angrily as I open the passenger door to my black Maserati. Regardless of how Gwen is acting, my mother instilled in me enough manners to open the door, if I don’t she’ll find out about it, and I’ve had enough for today the last thing I need is to open that can of worms.
    “ What I’m talking about is for once, someone finally left you instead of you leaving everyone else. I mean you can’t honestly tell me you stick around to make sure a woman gets off can you?”
    “ If they don’t get off how is that my problem?”
    “ Exactly she got off, now you’re not her problem and its pissing you right off isn’t it? This is so priceless I’ve gotta call mom.” Great just what I need. My whole family laughing it up at my expense.
    I tune her out as best as I can, my jaw clenching as I try desperately not to remember the little author. Tried not to remember the dark look in her eyes, fear maybe? What had she been so afraid of that she would run? Certainly not me, I had been enough of a gentleman not to warrant that. And she ran anyways. Gwen ’s laughter sifts through the fog of my mind and I cringe at the sound. Just what I need, my whole family laughing it up at my expense. Just great.
    My mind stayed on repeat like that, while my subconscious brain drove us through downtown traffic and out of the city. Her smile, her laugh, I should have minded my better judgment and ignored her. I should have climbed out of my chair and ran for my life. You don't fuck women like that, you have relationships with them, and I don't do relationships. Period.
    I try to pretend its over and done with now so there is no point continuing to think on it, by the time I finally work that through my brain, I'm pulling up to the gated house that for the first eighteen years of my life I called home.
    The wrought iron gates swing out slowly once I punch in the pass code, revealing the lush manicured gardens of the front lawn. If you were to ask me it just looks like an extremely expensive yard, but my mother insists it is an English garden.  She would also insist she owns an English cottage, but I don't know of any people that associate the sprawling five bedroom home with the word cottage either.
    Pulling up in front of the house, I step out onto the cobblestone drive and make my way to my sister's side of the car. The rules that were instilled practically since childbirth still apply. Always open the door, always hold your hand out to help the lady out of the car. Even though it's Gwen, and she is going to give me the same lame excuse, and climb out on her own, it's our own comfortable routine. If I don't at least offer my mother will give me shit for it. She always does.
    “ I'm not touching that,” she says as usual when she climbs out of the car avoiding my hand. “I don't know where its been.”
    “ Up your favorite author's skirt,” I respond dryly, still decidedly pissed by today's turn of events. Which leaves Gwen laughing as she walks toward the front door.
    “ And here I thought what with the way your panties are twisted, surely it was her hand up your skirts big brother.”
    And just like that all the anger I had managed to push aside jumps back to the surface, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from snapping back as I follow Gwen inside.
    The inside of my mother and fathers home is much like the outside, warm woods, rich colors, homey and inviting. It was pleasant to grow up here, but even the nostalgia can’t wipe away my current mood.
    “ Mom!” Gwen is calling out excitedly, no doubt to go over my lunch time activities in great detail.
    I follow Gwen into the kitchen where my mom is no doubt baking away, her favorite hobby lately it seems. Seeing Gwen and my mother embracing brings a smile to my face