Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I almost tear the letter to pieces right there.
“It’s okay,” I repeat grimly. “How the fuck do you know, Zoey?”
But I can’t stop, not now that I’ve started.
I know I’m probably rambling. I’m sorry. But I want you to know that what you do, with your self-defense gyms, it’s a wonderful thing. I know it’s probably a business. I know you make a living from it. But don’t you see? The fact you chose THAT business proves that you’re a good man. You want to help people. You want to make them feel strong, empowered, less like victims.
My chest tightens as she once again hits the nail well and truly on the head.
There were lots of businesses I could’ve pursued after I left the SEALs with the sound investments I’d made over the years, from management consultancy to protection, but starting a series of gyms called out to me the most. It’s like she said. I remember being a kid and feeling weak and victim-like, and I remember how martial arts changed that.
So I guess what I’m saying is… thank you, you know, for your service. But not just for your service overseas. Thank you for being a good man in civilian life. Thank you for fighting even though your battle is over.
I stare at the letter, the words shifting…
No, my hands are trembling, the shaking starting deep inside of me, in my core, and then moving through my body like a goddamn tidal wave. I don’t know why her words are having such a massive effect on me. I don’t know this woman, this Zoey, and yet something blares through me, a voice rising above all the simmering rage.
I have to see this woman. I have to meet her.
That’s not supposed to be possible, but for some reason, she’s left her address. I thought it might be because she wanted something from me. But she hasn’t given any indication of that in her letter.
What, then?
What the hell does she want?
I drop the letter and walk over to the coffee machine, making myself a strong cup of black coffee, and then pick up the letter once again.
“It’s okay,” I growl, shaking my head.
She has no damn clue if it’s okay or not. She has no right to presume that it is. What sort of irresponsible shit is this?
She doesn’t know who I am, what I’ve done, who I’ve seen die in front of me. She doesn’t know if it’s okay, so saying it is – over and over – is a dangerous thing to do.
I search for the anger inside of me, eager for it to replace this other emotion, this strange and new whispering that this woman, this Zoey, is a woman I have to meet.
I have to see her, to lay my eyes on her, because…
I don’t even know why.
It’s a deep and primal need inside of me, like an alarm blaring through me, telling me that if I don’t find this woman my life will be the worst for it.
It doesn’t make any sense. They’re just words on a page – presumptuous words at that – and yet I can’t find my usual anger to cling to.
What is it about Zoey Baker, this mystery woman, that has tugged at parts of me I haven’t felt since I was a kid, probably? When I was naive and didn’t know how twisted the world was, maybe then this feeling would make sense.
But now I’ve seen how fucked humanity can truly be?
I lay the letter down and take a long swig of my coffee, enjoying the burning feeling as it moves down my throat.
I’m going to have to go and see her, if only from afar, so I can put to rest this weird need inside of me.
I don’t even know what she looks like, or anything about her, and yet her words have triggered something inside of me, like a ripple in a pool of water that causes more, and more ripples, until the whole surface is shimmering.
I can’t let that happen.
I can’t let myself care about a stranger.
So she wrote me a nice letter. That’s no reason to lose my head, to forget who I am.
I glance at the clock. It’s seven in the morning and I’ve got a long day ahead of me, multiple classes at multiple gyms around the city, and then a business meeting to top it all off.
This evening, then.
I’ll go and see Zoey Baker and put this fledgling...desire to rest before it can become something even more ridiculous.
I don’t know her, so how can I need her?
How can my heart hammer like a fist trying to break open my ribcage at the thought of her?
I take another sip of coffee, letting it scorch its way down to my belly, where it bubbles hotly. But nothing is hotter than my need to get today over with so I can see Zoey.