Let It Go Read Online Free PDF

he’d learned how to manage on little to no real sleep years ago. The stress that was killing his neck came from Eli Mason and his constant need to call him out.
    Every goddamned time their paths crossed it was the same. Even after Eli switched to bulls, even when they stopped competing against each other, he still forced this damned conflict. And now Creed was stuck with him. Alone, it seemed. Out in the middle of fucking nowhere Florida. It was still hot for late September. And dry; dust everywhere. Miles from town. With Eli. Alone.
    Creed groaned when the hot water slammed against his skin. He leaned against the wall, letting the pulsating showerhead pelt his neck and shoulders. He was alone with his worst enemy. With about a hundred dollars to his name, no means of transportation, no connection to the outside world. Yeah, he was about as fucked as fucked could get.
    He straightened; letting the water pour over his head, he pushed his hair out of his face. The smell of beer began to ebb along with the ache in his neck. There was an unused bar of soap in the dish; Creed swiped it up and rubbed it over his body. Winced when he hit the band around his ankle. He’d actually forgotten up to that moment that it was there. He remembered how Eli had smiled in the back of the cruiser. The image felt like a fist to the gut. Eli’s face relaxed, a few freckles spattering his nose, those mean as hell brown eyes closed, a real smile on his face. There was the feeling again. Creed grabbed the wall to keep from doubling over. What the hell?
    He was hungry. It was hunger. That’s all. This swirling, churning feeling. Or vomit. Just thinking about Eli being un-Eli-like. Like out in the living room when he’d stopped to look around. His gaze on the portrait over the mantel. He’d gone so pale his freckles had stood out in stark relief. His bright eyebrows became brighter against his pale skin. And then the mean came back. Eli fucking Mason had no goddamned heart. Two minutes of him acting as if he was more than plain evil was nothing to get worked up about.
    Creed fought to put things into perspective. Eli with the pretty strawberry blond Mohawk standing beside that old paint pony all those years ago. He’d just had to ride over and talk to him. Eli was the star. Eli, nothing but Eli for as far back as he could remember. Eli was the best pole racer. Eli was the best calf roper. Eli was nothing but a freckled-face ginger tomcat with a square jaw and a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. He remembered feeling like one of those prepubescent bunnies in training as he rode up to Eli. Eli was agitated. His uncle was saying something Eli didn’t want to hear. Creed remembered watching him turn a deep shade of red, and he decided he’d probably better ride on by. He’d wanted to see him up close. He’d wanted to let him know he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to beat him. Eli was supposed to win that race, not Creed. But he hadn’t, and he was a sore loser on top of everything else. Still beautiful. But Creed knew from hard experience that beautiful men were a dime a dozen, and Eli wasn’t worth one red cent.
    Creed cleared his mind, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. The air in the house was cold and a little musty. The bathroom was spotless like the other rooms he’d walked through, but Creed couldn’t help feeling desolation in the place. He’d tried to shrug it off. But it was there. Old furniture. Old memories floating on the air. He’d heard through the rumor mill that Eli lost his parents when he was young, but he’d never known he had a brother until he saw the younger version of him with an even younger double standing behind a dark-haired mother and blond father. Two little Elis smiling and happy, and now there was only one angry Eli left behind.
    Until that moment, Creed had never thought to wonder why Eli was the way he was. Maybe he wasn’t the golden boy with the best gear and the best trailer and