Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Two women moved into the apartment. One was on the shorter side, thin, with blonde hair. Britney, I figured. The other was taller and a bit stockier. She was masc-presenting with short dark hair, loose jeans, and a flannel shirt over a white tee.
“Britney, Sam, this is Callow,” Sabrina introduced us. “He helped get us all set up with new locks,” she said as Britney looked between the two of us with bright eyes and a barely-contained smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said, extending her hand to shake mine. “Thanks for taking care of them.”
I gave Sam a nod as her gaze slid over to the pepper spray and taser on the table.
“I can show you how they work,” Sabrina offered. “For while you’re here.”
“No need,” Britney said, giving her partner a smile. “Sam, ah, brought something of her own. For, you know, protection.”
“Oh. Oh. Okay that’s good.”
“I’ll get out of you guys’ way,” I said, reaching out to give Sabrina’s upper arm a little squeeze. “You know where to find me if you need anything,” I said before making my way to the door.
I was still closing it when I heard Britney’s excited voice drifting through it to me.
“You didn’t say he was that hot.”
Not wanting to be a creep and linger, I walked off before I could hear Sabrina’s response.
I expected to crash the fuck out after picking up breakfast for the club.
But after dropping into bed, all I did was stare at the ceiling, worrying myself to a stomachache about Sabrina and Daphne.
It was right about then that I realized how fucked I was.
And all I could do was hope that Sabrina was feeling the same way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sabrina
The guilt was going to eat me alive.
I’d actually snapped at my boss at work because I’d been so consumed with my regrets for leaving Daphne alone at night, allowing her to be a victim to some random assholes who wanted to hurt her.
Sam had tried to talk me down about it as I got ready for work, filling them in on all of the details. She reminded me that being home might not have changed anything at all. Except that both of us may have become victims. And one of us might not have gotten away as relatively unharmed as just Daphne had.
She was probably right.
If I’d seen someone coming in, I would have rushed in front of my daughter. I would have done everything in my power to keep them away from her. Which likely would have resulted in the same outcome. Daphne on the balcony with no choice but to scale down. Only she would have to witness whatever sick shit those men would have done to me first.
And then what?
Been all alone in the world?
Objectively, I knew that Sam and Britney would fight like hell to take her. But still.
I made it a point in the day following the attack to sit down and fill out a will. I didn’t have much to speak of by the way of possessions. But Daphne had a college savings. And I wanted it to be in writing somewhere that my daughter went to the only other women who had been like family to her.
The day after that, I went to get that document notarized. Then made a copy and left it with Sam and Britney.
I also looked into the process for getting a gun in New Jersey. As well as researched what kinds of guns were best for novices.
I didn’t know if anything would actually come of that for me. But I wanted to know my options.
It was likely something I would bring up to Daphne once things were calmer. See how she felt about it. It was her home too.
Daphne was a trooper with her cast. The only time she complained was when we had to wrap her up to shower. Eventually, she had to give up on the idea of washing her own hair. Which meant I was now her hair washer.
I was also her back scratcher.
And her lunch packer.
Anything I could do to try to make her life easier while she was especially sore after the break.
It was on the Wednesday after her attack that I picked her up from Sam and Britney’s that she demanded we stop at the grocery store.
“For what?” I asked, having just shopped the day before.
“We have to bake Callow those cookies you promised him,” she said, glancing over at me.
It was not the first time she’d brought up Callow since the night he’d left our apartment.
It wasn’t even the twentieth time.
The girl was relentless.
And I’d been, I don’t know, hesitant.
First, because of the guilt. I mean, I’d been out with Callow on a damn island when my kid needed me.
Besides that, I don’t know. I felt weird about it. Not embarrassed exactly. I refused to feel bad about how upset and not myself I’d been. But there was some internal discomfort over the way I’d reacted to Callow’s goodness.