Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I knew all about love and grief and betrayal. On top of that, the Vitellius and the code that had started our hunt was the thing that had broken us apart in the first place. Forrest probably had a lot of sticky, ugly, complicated feelings about all of this.
He had made it clear then and clear now that he didn’t care about the money. Maybe it was time I believed him.
I kept forgetting that I hated him, that I didn’t want anything to do with him. Staring down at him, my hands propped on my hips, my eyebrow raised in irritation, I had to admit there was a part of me that wanted to forget about everything that had gone wrong. There was a part of me that wanted to do this together. As a team.
But that part of me needed to shut the hell up. We didn’t need to be a team. I could solve Alan Buckley’s clues with minimal input from Forrest. I’d get my payday and walk away. If he’d lied to me once, he’d lie again. I’d told myself that about a million times. But lately, a little voice had been asking, Would he? Would he really?
I’d made so many mistakes I couldn’t count them, and I was getting a second chance. Didn’t Forrest deserve the same?
I couldn’t answer that. I didn’t want to. If I did, I might have to forgive him, and I wasn’t ready for that. I was ready to solve this thing, and I wasn’t walking away because things were getting complicated. I was tougher than that.
“Don’t you want to find the next clue?” I demanded.
“We don’t even know what we’re looking for,” he shot back. “All it said was boathouse.”
His tone made it clear he was more than a little ticked at me. I didn’t care. “Then let’s go to the boathouse and see if we can find anything.”
Forrest crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to take root on the bench. “So, we’re breaking and entering now?”
His obstinance was making me crazy. Did he want to give up? Now? I wanted to throw something at him, but my ice cream cone was gone. “I don’t know how we’re going to get in. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”
He sighed and looked around, evidently deciding that I had a point. “At least it’ll be hard for them to follow us on the country roads,” Forrest said, standing and balling his napkin in one fist. “Let’s go.”
He stalked across the park to the car, his eyes moving from right to left. I did the same, but all I saw was a normal summer day in a small town. No Learys in sight. That didn’t mean they weren’t out there, or that they didn’t make me a little nervous. I knew what they were capable of, and despite his assurances, I didn’t trust Callum Leary. Still, I figured we were safe in the meantime—Callum needed me to solve the clue, and I needed Forrest. We all had the same goal: solve the puzzle. Taking us out, or whatever hit men did, didn’t help further that goal. Still, I didn’t love the idea that we were relatively safe right up until we found Alan Buckley’s money. I wanted the cash, but the second it was within reach, Forrest and I would have targets on our backs.
Forrest put the car in gear, and we headed out of Willow Springs. The drive to the lake house was quiet. Blue skies and green trees whipped by the windows, the bright summer sun beating down on the car. By noon, we had the AC at full blast.
On the way to Willow Springs, I’d been the one with her mouth glued shut. This time, it was Forrest, and I found myself wanting to know what he was thinking. Was he grieving his father? Was he working on a strategy to break into the boathouse? Was he thinking about me?
Stop it, I ordered myself. I don’t want him thinking about me. We’re over because I hate him, remember?
I did. I remembered.
And still, I wanted to know—how much of the sadness in his eyes was about his father and how much was about me?
Oh my God, Sterling, my inner voice chided in exasperation. Are you competing with his dead father for who hurt him more? Grow up. It’s been a year since you dumped him. Get over it.
I snuck a glance at Forrest, who had one hand on the wheel, his eyes haunted as he watched the road ahead. My questions were immediately answered. Fuck. None of this was about me. I was being a self-centered asshole. My broken heart wasn’t at the center of the universe. I let out a sigh and leaned my head against the window.
It was mid-afternoon by the time we pulled off the state road onto a nondescript, winding country road. Long miles later, we popped out from beneath the trees to see a small lake, the shoreline dotted with cottages. The road turned, and we disappeared into the trees again, winding our way around the lake.