Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I turn for the door, bag of pastries between my teeth, hands full of food and coffee, when I see her walking through the door. Sarah. She looks exactly the same. Long, wavy blond hair. Bright, blue eyes. But there’s a sadness behind those eyes that wasn’t always there. And I’m the one who’s responsible for that.
Sarah gasps, and we both stop short, not knowing what to do. She hates me. Her parents hate me. I hate me. I haven’t seen her in almost ten years. Haven’t spoken to her since they took me away in handcuffs. Her family moved away a long time ago. She’s the last person I expected to see here.
Sarah’s wide eyes fill with tears and she glances behind her, as if she’s looking for someone. A second later, Mark appears. Sarah’s father. My old foster dad. These are the people who I thought might actually become my permanent family. But all of that changed in an instant, reminding me that I didn’t have a real family, and nothing could ever change that.
Mark’s eyes burn with a mixture of rage and pain when he recognizes me, and the same emotions consume me, as if it just happened yesterday. I feel my throat closing up. I feel the break in my arm and the stabbing cold of ice puncturing my skin as I jump in. I feel my oxygen running out, and I see the blood spilled along the ice above me.
The bag of pastries falls from my mouth, tumbling out of the bag on the way to the floor. The cherry danish splatters across the white floor. Dread slams into my gut like a thousand-pound weight as all three of us stand before each other, reliving the worst day of our lives in the span of three seconds.
“You’re still here,” Mark spits, voice full of disdain. If he could kill me where I stand and get away with it, I have no doubt in my mind that he would. He wanted me in prison. And he almost got his wish. But I can’t fault him.
Guilt, my only friend, is ever-present. It took the back burner when Lo came into my life, but right now, it threatens to swallow me whole. I don’t speak. I couldn’t find words even if I wanted to. I move around them, accidentally smashing another pastry underneath my boot. Somehow, I manage to hold on to everything else as I bolt the fuck away from there.
I was stupid for thinking I could have something real with Lo. These past few weeks, I thought something had shifted. I could almost feel the ice thawing inside me. But, nothing has changed. I’m still a fucking murderer. The guilt, the anxiety, the self-loathing…it’s all still there. Lo was just a Band-Aid. A distraction. And maybe that’s all she’s doing with me. Maybe we’re just using each other to escape reality. To feel good for once.
The only difference is, I deserve this life. Lo doesn’t.
* * *
“STILL NO WORD FROM DARE?” I ask Cordell and Matty. After dropping Jess off, I went straight to the shop, thinking Dare would be there early, like usual. I waited around for a while, but he never showed, so I went back home to see if he was there. No luck.
I didn’t think much of it. I told myself he’d show up when the shop opened, because I knew he had a twelve o’clock appointment. He never misses an appointment. But it’s now almost dark. His clients have come and gone, and still, no sign of Dare.
“Not since last night,” Matty answers, looking perplexed.
A knowing look passes over Cord’s face.
“What do you know?” I ask as unease pricks the back of my neck.
“I don’t know where he is,” he hedges.
“But…?”
“But this time of year, he always goes a little…quiet.” He’s being intentionally cryptic, and what started out as mild concern is quickly morphing into full-blown panic.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you should talk to him,” he says curtly, but his tone also has a hint of softness. I get the feeling that he wants to tell me, but his loyalty to Dare won’t allow it.
Just when I’m about to go check his spot in the pine trees, I hear the back door open. Three sets of eyes snap to the back room in time to see Dare staggering inside, leaving the door open behind him.
“Fuck,” Cord mutters under his breath.
“Is he…drunk?” I wonder out loud, as my heart starts hammering in my chest.
My phone rings, and I’m about to throw the damn thing against the wall when I see Private Caller. Again. I quickly answer, too angry to keep letting this go on. “Don’t fucking call me again or I’m filing a restraining order on you like I should’ve done months ago.” I hang up the phone, in a hurry to get to Dare, but it buzzes in my hand with a text a second later.