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“Please, Dad. I need to do this.”
“It’s that bad, huh? At school.”
I don’t need to answer that. He knows. I told him bits and pieces. I had to explain my scrapes and bruises, the tears. The shredded books, the destroyed backpacks, the torn clothes. The descent into depression.
“I’ll talk to Josh,” Dad says. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s for the best. And afte
r that... after this year, please come back to us, Luna. That boy can’t rip you away from us. You can’t let him win.”
But I feel like he already has. Because, in spite of everything, even though he’s made my life so dark here that I’m leaving my family and my home, in spite of it all...
... I still can’t stop thinking about him every night.
I still see his face every time I close my eyes.
And worse, I still crave his kiss, his touch.
What will happen when I come back and see him again one day? Will I shatter all over again, or will I be able to ignore him? Will I still dream of him or will I forget him?
I guess only time will tell...
Read on and find out what happens next in NO SAINT (Wild Men 6).
Preorder links here: https://joraven.com/no-saint-wild-men-6/
Meet the infamous Ross, black sheep of the family and bully extraordinaire...
I drink too much, smoke too much, screw around. I’ve hurt people, been in and out of prison. I’m a bastard, a beast. I’m a bundle of joy.
I mean, my own dad tried to kill me, what does that tell you?
Then again, my dad did kill my mom, so maybe it isn’t just me. Who the hell knows. The world sucks and I’m giving it the finger in every damn way, except...
Except there’s a girl. Pretty. Hot. Clever. She didn’t get the memo—that she should hate me, shun me, kick me when I’m down. That the world screwed us all over. She believes in the future—and sometimes she seems to even believe in me.
Big mistake. I’m bad news. I made her suffer in the past, and nothing has changed. I’m not an angel, not a saint. I’m just no good.
But for some reason I don’t get, I can’t let her go down with me. I find myself trying to be better for her, pretending to be someone I’m not.
And if that doesn’t ring some damn big alarm bells regarding my sanity, well... then I’m done already.
Excerpt from NO SAINT:
After my penitence for the day has left a small puddle of blood on the street behind the grocery store—from my split lip and a cut I got on a shard of glass as I was kicked about—my road takes me, limping and cursing, between thinning houses and gardens, toward the river.
Just another fine day in the life of Ross Jones. What do I win from bleeding out? From letting them lay into me every day? Do I regain a measure of peace? No. Does it make me a better man? No.
Do I feel like an idiot? Yeah, mostly.
Then why the fuck can’t I stop? I should fight harder, introduce my fist into their ugly mugs properly, show them who is boss around here. Show them that they should be fucking afraid of me, just like they were years ago. You can chain a tiger, but you should never trust him. Dad taught me that. Taught me about cruelty and hopelessness.
Only fucking problem is, that’s not me anymore. The boss. The leader.
I don’t know who the hell I am.
A cooler breeze is blowing here, laced with other smells: water, mud and shit and rotting things. I wipe at my bleeding lip with the back of my hand, wince at the stab in my kidneys, and curse again, remembering I have no way of numbing the pain tonight, the last of my money having gone into that bottle that’s now lying in pieces on the asphalt. I should be getting paid soon, but still.
Sucks ass.
