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)
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out, only to see Private Caller flash across the screen. Unease prickles my spine. This is a brand-new number. Eric, my ex-boss and part of the reason I left, bought my old phone. He didn’t like not being able to keep tabs on me, but I threw the phone away just before I left town. I used most of the money I had saved to buy myself a new one and added a line for Jess. They had a deal, and I ended up getting him a phone for ninety-nine cents.
There’s no way Eric would know my number. The only people who do know it are Jess, my mom, and now Henry. But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s him. It’s not like I’m afraid of Eric. He’d never physically harm me—psychological manipulation and intimidation are more his style—but the thought that he somehow got my number is…unnerving. I roll my eyes at my dramatics and shove my phone back into my pocket. There’s no way it was him. Probably a solicitor.
“Lo?” Jess asks with a cautious lilt to his voice. “Everything okay?”
Jess may be my kid brother, but he worries about me like a parent would. That’s what happens when your mom is a deadbeat and your dad is MIA. We are all each other has.
“I’m good!” I say, maybe too cheerily, because he casts me a suspicious look. “How was school?” I ask around a bite of my eggs, if only to change the subject.
Sometimes we have what I call Upside-Down Days, where we have pancakes and eggs for dinner instead of breakfast. I made it up when Jess was a little younger. It was more fun than saying, “Listen, we are too broke for real food, and all we can afford are eggs and pancake batter, if you’re lucky.” Years later, we’re still broke as shit by most people’s standards, especially at this moment, but it sort of became our thing. Even when I was working for Eric, making enough to support us and still have leftover spending money, we still had Upside-Down Days.
Jess walks over to the sink to fill his cup with tap water before taking a drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Got head in the girls’ bathroom at lunch, so I guess you could say it was a successful first day.”
I scrunch my nose. “What did I tell you? Play it straight, and for God’s sake, keep your pants zipped. Just for eight more months.”
“Relax, we didn’t get caught.”
“Yet,” I warn. “I guess I should just be glad it wasn’t the school secretary.”
“I never said it wasn’t Lacey,” he says mischievously.
“Jesse, I swear to God…”
“I’m just fucking with you. It was some girl from my math class. Who called your phone a minute ago?” In true Shepherd fashion, he flips the topic back to me to take the heat off him.
“What?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“Was it him? Eric? Is he fucking with you again? I swear to God, if you go back to him…”
I get his concern. Every single time he warned me about Eric, I brushed it off. At first, it was the money. He had it, and we needed it. He gave me whatever I needed. But then, it became more complicated. Lines were crossed, and morals were blurred. It wasn’t pretty, and I’m not proud, but I am done. I never want to be the person I was when I was with Eric again.
“Nah, I think it was one of the places I applied to earlier.”
“Weird, because you got that same panicked look in your eyes that you get whenever that piece of shit is involved.”
“It wasn’t him,” I say firmly. I stand abruptly, causing my chair to scape across the cheap wood flooring. “Why is it so goddamn cold in here?” I change the subject once again, pulling my shirt closed. “I gotta take a hot shower. My tits are going to freeze off.”
Jess shakes his head, and he doesn’t believe me for a second, but he doesn’t say a word as I make my way up the steps.
Once I peel off my clothes and stand under the scalding hot water, my mind drifts back to the hot guy with tattoos. And I allow my fantasy from earlier to run wild, in the privacy of this bathroom, because it can’t happen in real life.
The buzzing under my pillow cuts through my dreams, forcing me into reality. I open one eye, waiting for the sleep to clear to be able to focus on the words on the screen.
You’re late.
Late? It’s from a local number. It takes a minute for my brain to catch up and remember that I’m supposed to pick Dare up. How the hell did he get my number? Tired eyes drag up to the time displayed in too-small numbers on the top of my screen. It’s nine twelve. Shit. Jess is late for school. I scramble out of bed and dig through my bag, only to realize I don’t have any clean jeans. Or leggings. Or underwear. Or anything, really. I really need to ask Henry if he has a washer and dryer. I haven’t seen one, and this place isn’t exactly a palace, so it doesn’t look promising.