Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Sophie
I don’t want to do this, but I can’t face this alone, either. There’s another factor that might make this a good idea. Or not good, but the right choice. When Kaleb knows about my crush, he’ll probably freak and want nothing to do with me. That makes my chest tighten just thinking about it, but it’s the best choice for Paul.
“This laptop belongs in a museum,” Kaleb jokes when I take him into my bedroom, waving him into my computer chair.
I stand at his shoulder. He glances up, his intense eyes narrowed. Any second, Paul could wake up. Or Riley could get here. We have to be quick about this.
“There was another letter, but it was addressed to me this time. It’s a threat.”
“A threat?” he growls, sitting up like he’s ready to hurt anybody seriously who’d dream of threatening me. I used to imagine what it would be like having Kaleb in my corner, ready to fight my battles with me and always do the right thing. It used to fill me with such a misplaced sense of belonging, just dreaming of it.
I gesture at the laptop. “Seriously. Watch it. Then we can talk, but keep the volume low, okay?”
The bedroom door is closed, but I still don’t want to risk Paul hearing it. I sit on the bed, wringing my hands together like I’m trying to break my fingers, as he turns to the laptop and opens it. It takes forever to boot up, giving me all the time in the world to torture myself, to fall into a pit.
This is the right choice, I remind myself. I need his help. I can’t fight whatever this is without Kaleb’s resources.
I cringe when my voice comes onto the laptop, as thirteen-year-old me starts talking about Kaleb, about the crush. “One day, we’re going to get married,” the naïve, younger version of myself says. “Maybe we’ll even have a family together. I think we’d make a good team.”
“What the fuck is this?” Kaleb whispers under his breath.
I cringe at the disbelief in his voice, the anger, the disgust.
“He’s the man of my dreams, so obviously, it would be a dream come true.”
He turns to me, his eyes dark and filled with disgust. It’s like he’s going to yell at me. He looks seriously pissed.
“You have to keep watching,” I tell him. “You have to see the end.”
He turns back to the laptop. His posture is tight, his shoulders tensed up. When the message appears on the screen, he lets out a long, trembling breath, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at. He groans and spins in the computer chair, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks closely at me. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Explain,” he snaps.
“I don’t know who sent it. I don’t know what they want. I don’t even know how they got that video. That’s why I showed you. I need your help.”
“I’ll help you,” he growls. “Of course I will. There’s not even a question about that, but that’s not what I’m talking about. What the hell is this video? What the fuck, Sophie?”
I cringe, wanting to latch onto the “of course I will.” He’s matter-of-fact about helping me. He thinks it’s obvious because of the bond we share. It’s not obvious to me when there’s that sick look in his eyes.
“You saw the video,” I mutter.
“You had a…” He stands up and goes to the window, shaking his head. His fists are clenched at his sides.
“A crush. You can say it.”
He spins on me, a vein bulging in his neck, his temples pulsing as he glares at me. There’s so much anger in him, so much disbelief. He’s glaring like he’s ready to tear my head off.
“I don’t understand,” he says.
“It’s not complicated.” I raise my voice, then quickly lower it. As far as Paul, Riley, or any other nurses know, I’ve got no reason to argue passionately with Kaleb Kennison. “You saw the video, Kaleb. Don’t make me explain the obvious.”
“You have a crush on me,” he says.
“I had a crush.” I jump to my feet and walk over to him, but stop before I go too far and cross a line as if we haven’t crossed several already. “I’m a little too old for that now. Anyway, that isn’t why I showed you the video. I need to know—”
“A crush,” he cuts in, seemingly not hearing anything I’m saying. He shakes his head slowly. “Jesus Christ, how old were you in that video?”
“Thirteen.”
“And when did the crush end?”
Never. “Why does it matter?”
He steps forward, barely inches from me, making me want to throw myself at him, cling onto him just like I did at the beach. Okay, maybe not just like that. We can’t go to that steamy, tantalizing place here in the house.