Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“That’s great, no wonder you’re a straight-A student. Always ahead.” Tracy smiles. “Maybe tomorrow after school we can do something fun? Get mani-pedis together? Go shopping at the mall? We could take Hope with us,” she offers, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Sure, that sounds fun.” I grin.
When I first came to live with Tracy and Steven, I didn’t know what to expect. I had heard so many horror stories about kids in the system. I figured I would be miserable here until I turned eighteen. My expectations were low, which made finding out how truly amazing they were even more special.
They could never have children of their own, so they were happy to take me in. Tracy quit her job as an accountant so she could take care of my every need. Steven is a car salesman at the local dealership. I don’t know their situation with money, but he must sell a lot of cars because they never seem to worry about funds.
If I just mention my need for new clothes, Tracy takes me shopping the next day. If I simply hint at wanting anything, it’s mine within the week, which is why I normally keep everything to myself. I’m eternally thankful for all they’ve done for me, how they took me into their home to care for me, which is exactly why I don’t want them to have to spend all their money on me. They’ve done enough.
“I’ll head upstairs then to—”
I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. All three of us look between each other, asking without words if one of us knows who could be at the door. I don’t have a lot of friends, and if it was Hope, she wouldn’t knock, she’d just come in.
“I’ll get it,” Steven finally says.
It’s not that late, only seven, but normally no one comes by. Curious, I peek around the corner to the front door. Steven opens the door, and right away, a large figure moves inside the house.
“Oh, hey… I didn’t expect you to come by.” Steven steps to the side, and Lucca’s face comes into view. My blood runs cold, and it’s not only because Lucca is here.
The way Steven opened the door and allowed him to walk inside… like he has been here before. There is a familiarity between them, as if they talk regularly. I can tell just by their body language, something I’ve become very good at reading over the years.
I don’t know why I didn’t piece it together before.
“Evening,” Lucca greets, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket that’s molded to his body like a second skin. His presence makes the room feel small.
A gasp builds in my throat, but I swallow it down. All I can do is stare. Absorbing every inch of the man before my eyes. It’s like I’m looking at a different person. I never remember him being like this. He’s huge, taller, and his body is filled out. Broad shoulders and a tapered waist give him the lean but athletic look. His amber eyes are very much the same, reminding me of a time when things were different. The contours of his face are angular, with sharp edges that could cut you with a single turn of his head.
His full lips press into a hard line, intensifying his darkness. There is an edge to him that terrifies me.
“How… how do you know him?” My voice wobbles, and my eyes dart between my parents. This is worse than I thought. The apologetic look that overtakes both their faces confirms my suspicion.
Tracy exhales. “We were going to tell you. I…”
My mind shuts down, and all I can feel is the heavy thump of my heart in my chest. Betrayal slices through me and the sharp dagger of it seems to get lodged in my chest.
“I should’ve known.” Disappointment bleeds through me like ink on a piece of paper, and I whirl around, rushing up the staircase to my bedroom.
I make it up three steps before Lucca is trailing me up the stairs. It’s stupid, but as soon as I reach my bedroom door, I slip inside and whirl around to slam it shut. That would work if I weren’t going against such a brute of a man. Placing his foot between the door and the jamb, he makes it impossible for me to lock him out.
“A flimsy wooden door will not stop me, butterfly,” he grunts as I push against the wood, willing the door to close.
My hands ache where I grip the wooden frame. I don’t know why I’m trying to stop him from getting in here. Just like that, I let go of the door and stumble backward. He advances, tugging the door all the way open before marching inside like a soldier heading to battle.