Read Online Seasons of Change by Olivia Stephens - Free Book Online
Authors: Olivia Stephens
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guy; he’s just trying to make his way in the world like everyone else. He’s trading on the commodities that he can—no more, no less than that.
“How’s Big George?” Noah asks, looking at me from underneath his bushy eyebrows, confirming that he’s already heard the news from the local gossip-mongers.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell him calmly, not wanting to go into the nitty gritty of it.
You learn to be careful what you say and to be careful who you say it to. To be honest, I don’t even want to think about the events of the night before or how things could have got even more out of hand than they already had. The thought of those bikers and the way they actually seemed to enjoy hurting George and scaring me makes me feel physically sick.
It had been a while since I’d witnessed, or even been involved in, a run-in like that between the Angels and us normal people. I’d almost forgotten how easy it was for them to act like they were the law in this town.
It’s the sense of entitlement that always gets to me, like they truly believed that we should all just sit back and let them do whatever they want. It makes me so mad, but that’s how things are and they don’t show signs of changing anytime soon. My dad had always taught me that “might doesn’t make right,” but over the years the Angels had managed to disprove that theory pretty effectively.
Noah seems to read my thoughts and gives me a “chin up” kind of smile. “What’ll it be then, kid?” he asks, nodding helloes as a few regulars drift into the bar.
“I’ll have a beer Noah, thanks,” I tell him. Although Noah runs a reputable business, he’s never been overly concerned with enforcing the minimum legal drinking age. It was one of the few things in the lawlessness of Painted Rock that actually worked out for me.
“Sorry I’m late, what I miss?” Jake asks, breathing a little heavily like he’s been running as he pulls up a bar stool next to me.
“You’re always late,” I remind him, nodding my thanks to Noah as he passes me a cold one and Jake signals for another. “If you weren’t late it would be a miracle, and since we’re all out of miracles in this town, here we are,” I take my first swig and savor the cool liquid as it hits the back of my throat.
“But aren’t I worth waiting for?” Jake teases, his dark eyes mischievous, and I try not to read too much into his words.
“One day you’re going to turn up and I’ll have taken off already and it’ll serve you right, Jake Summers,” I tell him forcefully, but the smile on my face tells him I’m joking.
“You’d never leave me, would you Aimee?” he asks teasingly, and our eyes lock for a few seconds before what he’s said sinks in and the awkwardness of the moment is instantly palpable. That’s exactly what he’d been telling me to do—to leave him behind. “So, what’s new?” Jake asks hurriedly, taking a sip of his beer as he virtually falls over himself trying to change the direction of the conversation.
“What, you mean apart from the craziness of last night? I think that’s all the new news I have,” I tell him, taking another lazy swig of my drink, but I stop when I see the expression on Jake’s face.
“What happened last night?” Jake asks warily, putting down the bottle he’d been holding and fixing me with a stare that makes me squirm in my seat.
“Sorry, I figured you’d already heard. Everyone else in this town already seems to,” I mumble, waving vaguely at the other customers in the bar.
Jake doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me as if to signal me to go on, so I give him the summarized version of the night’s events. I have to take a few deep breaths before I describe how they stabbed George through his left hand and I see it all play out again in front of me. Jake remains silent throughout, listening intently.
“Holy shit,” he breathes once
“How’s Big George?” Noah asks, looking at me from underneath his bushy eyebrows, confirming that he’s already heard the news from the local gossip-mongers.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell him calmly, not wanting to go into the nitty gritty of it.
You learn to be careful what you say and to be careful who you say it to. To be honest, I don’t even want to think about the events of the night before or how things could have got even more out of hand than they already had. The thought of those bikers and the way they actually seemed to enjoy hurting George and scaring me makes me feel physically sick.
It had been a while since I’d witnessed, or even been involved in, a run-in like that between the Angels and us normal people. I’d almost forgotten how easy it was for them to act like they were the law in this town.
It’s the sense of entitlement that always gets to me, like they truly believed that we should all just sit back and let them do whatever they want. It makes me so mad, but that’s how things are and they don’t show signs of changing anytime soon. My dad had always taught me that “might doesn’t make right,” but over the years the Angels had managed to disprove that theory pretty effectively.
Noah seems to read my thoughts and gives me a “chin up” kind of smile. “What’ll it be then, kid?” he asks, nodding helloes as a few regulars drift into the bar.
“I’ll have a beer Noah, thanks,” I tell him. Although Noah runs a reputable business, he’s never been overly concerned with enforcing the minimum legal drinking age. It was one of the few things in the lawlessness of Painted Rock that actually worked out for me.
“Sorry I’m late, what I miss?” Jake asks, breathing a little heavily like he’s been running as he pulls up a bar stool next to me.
“You’re always late,” I remind him, nodding my thanks to Noah as he passes me a cold one and Jake signals for another. “If you weren’t late it would be a miracle, and since we’re all out of miracles in this town, here we are,” I take my first swig and savor the cool liquid as it hits the back of my throat.
“But aren’t I worth waiting for?” Jake teases, his dark eyes mischievous, and I try not to read too much into his words.
“One day you’re going to turn up and I’ll have taken off already and it’ll serve you right, Jake Summers,” I tell him forcefully, but the smile on my face tells him I’m joking.
“You’d never leave me, would you Aimee?” he asks teasingly, and our eyes lock for a few seconds before what he’s said sinks in and the awkwardness of the moment is instantly palpable. That’s exactly what he’d been telling me to do—to leave him behind. “So, what’s new?” Jake asks hurriedly, taking a sip of his beer as he virtually falls over himself trying to change the direction of the conversation.
“What, you mean apart from the craziness of last night? I think that’s all the new news I have,” I tell him, taking another lazy swig of my drink, but I stop when I see the expression on Jake’s face.
“What happened last night?” Jake asks warily, putting down the bottle he’d been holding and fixing me with a stare that makes me squirm in my seat.
“Sorry, I figured you’d already heard. Everyone else in this town already seems to,” I mumble, waving vaguely at the other customers in the bar.
Jake doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me as if to signal me to go on, so I give him the summarized version of the night’s events. I have to take a few deep breaths before I describe how they stabbed George through his left hand and I see it all play out again in front of me. Jake remains silent throughout, listening intently.
“Holy shit,” he breathes once
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