Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“God, Annabelle, I made a mistake, but why do you care so much about what other people think?”
“I care what you think, and you told the whole world in that interview! I’m done. Because clearly, there is no other way it could’ve gone. And you had to have known it would end like this, right here. With me in shattered pieces, heart fully, properly broken over a man who apparently was never truly mine.” My soul shuttered at my own words.
“You know me,” he said. “Whether you believe it or not. You’re not giving me a chance. You’re making me out to be him and I’m not! You’re not even going to try to find the truth.”
“Why should I?” I snapped. “You already admitted to saying those things! And the fact that they could leave your mouth speaks volumes about how you actually feel about me.”
“You know how I feel about you, Annabelle. I love you. I never loved anyone like I—”
“You don’t,” I cut him off before he could turn me to ash. I grabbed the box off the dresser, looking at him over my shoulder. “Because if you did? We wouldn’t be here.” Tears rolled down my cheeks at the distance between us. “I wouldn’t be broken and bleeding with no cure in sight, and more coming the minute that goes to print.” I choked back a sob, putting one foot in front of the other.
“Don’t do this. You’re supposed to be stronger than this. You’re supposed to weather the storms with me, not run at the first rain drop.”
“You don’t get to guilt me like that. Not when you’re the one who made the storm and then shoved me outside in it. Goodbye, Connell.”
“Annabelle, don’t do this. Give me a chance—”
“Goodbye,” I said again, the word clanging through me in an ice-cold finality as I carried my broken heart down his stairs, and out his door for good.
19
Connell
The doorbell rang, and I raked my hand over a week’s worth of beard growth as I walked to my foyer. A week. We’d played another away series and made our way home last night. A week without Annabelle’s laugh or her voice. A week without her kiss or even her scorn.
It had been the longest, saddest week of my damned life.
I swung the door open and sighed as Echo filled the doorway. Her hair was growing out at the roots since she was scared to dye it while pregnant, but that was the only change I could mark in Sawyer’s fiancee—besides the baby belly, of course.
“If you’re here to throw things at me, ye can just walk right back across the street because I don’t have the energy to duck anymore.”
She looked over her sunglasses at me and sighed. “You look like shit.”
“It’s a reflection of how I feel,” I quipped sarcastically, and then shook my head because that’s what got me into this whole mess.
“Good,” she said as she swung a bag from her shoulder.
“Woman, I just can’t with you today.”
“And what were your plans, exactly?” She tilted her head.
“Get so roaring drunk that I wake up tomorrow just so one more day goes by,” I answered honestly.
“So, you’re miserable?”
I bit back another sarcastic comment and sighed instead. “Aye. I’m fucking heartbroken because I said something careless that was twisted in a way that hurt the woman I love, and now she won’t so much as speak to me. Is that what ye wanted to hear?”
“Yep. Now move. I’m coming in.” She nodded toward the door.
I backed away out of sheer confusion. “Echo, if I wanted to see you, I would have gone to the bar.”
“I know,” she called over her shoulder as she walked by. Then she took out a bottle of scotch and held it high. “That’s why I brought the bar to you.”
After closing the door, I followed her into my kitchen, where she already had a shot poured into one of my juice glasses.
“What are you doing?” I asked as she rummaged through my refrigerator.
“Looking for—awh, these are the little teas that Annabelle likes,” she held one of the teas above her head for a second and then stuck it back in the fridge.
“Aye, I kept a lot of things that she liked. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“Here we go.” She pulled out a bottle of flavored water and shut the door. “I was looking for something non-alcoholic or caffeinated so I could drink with you. Now sit.” She motioned to the barstool at the end of the island.
I did.
She took out a small figurine of a grim reaper and put it on the island, then pushed the shot into my hand. “The second location of Scythe is now open for business.”
I arched an eyebrow at her, and she simply let her gaze flicker between mine and the shot until I took it.