Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
No. It can’t be.
There’s no way.
I’ve had inklings of it before, but always dismissed them.
Pure coincidence. Right?
It has to be.
I suck in a breath, trying to decide whether to respond right away. I don’t want to make it obvious. And if I did… and then he started to respond?
I don’t think my heart could take that.
Nope. No. Not happening. I tuck my phone away and get down to business, trying to keep that horrific thought out of my head.
My kind-hearted, compassionate Stranger88 is nothing like Brooks Gentry.
18
It’s after midnight by the time I get home. Tenley refused to quit until she could hardly keep her eyes open, and even then, I practically had to lock her out of the conference room so she’d go home.
“Hey.” I set my keys on the table by the door.
Ellie yawns from the couch, where she’s watching some late-night talk show. “Hey.”
“Good day?” I ask.
“Same as always.”
I head to the kitchen. There are cereal bowls in the sink—Ellie’s go-to when I’m not around to buy or prepare dinner. But I’m choosing my battles here. At least she’s not up in her room, getting ready for a night on the town. This is a step in the right direction.
I go to the fridge, crack a beer, and stand in the doorway, watching television. “Jace okay?”
“Yeah. He’s back to his old self.”
“Good. You taking him to school tomorrow?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She wrinkles her nose. I don’t appreciate being gaslit or dismissed, but I don’t have the energy for a battle right now.
“Cool.”
I take a swill of beer when my phone buzzes. Fishing it out of my pocket, I find a message notification from the BLIND LOVE app.
Stranger7721: I don’t think you ever told me what you do. What kind of case is it?
I take the steps two at a time, eager to get upstairs so I can start another all-night-long conversation with my stranger. After checking in on Jace, who’s out cold, I power up my computer, strip off my button-down, pull off my belt, and get to work.
Stranger88: Can’t say much about it. Bound by confidentiality.
Stranger7721: Sounds important. What do you do anyway?
Stranger88: I can tell you but then I’d have to kill you and I really don’t want to do that because I’m really looking forward to you screaming my name in a couple of months.
Stranger7721: Ah. Well, since you don’t know who I am or how to get in contact with me until day 90… I’ll take that chance.
Stranger88: Sorry. My lips are sealed.
Stranger7721: That’s fine. So tell me about this ass-kissing coworker?
Stranger88: I don’t want to talk about her. I’ve been working all day and I’d rather talk about anything but work.
Stranger7721: Same. Actually, I can’t really talk. I’m exhausted. Just checked in to keep our streak going.
She might as well have just told me she hates my guts and never wants to talk again, because disappointment engulfs me like a blanket, and all I can think about is this long, lonely night without her. The little somersault my stomach does every time a new message pops up is like a fucking drug. I can’t get enough.
Stranger88: All right. Let’s talk tomorrow.
Stranger7721: For sure. Goodnight.
Stranger7721 has left the conversation.
I stare at those words until they blur in front of me.
I can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed, though I can’t imagine what it would be. Maybe she started dating someone in real life? I don’t meant to jump to conclusions, but she’s never been this distant. She’s never turned down a late night chat.
Things in Ellie-land have been icy ever since I got pissed off at her over missing the nurse’s call when Jace got sick. I need to smooth that over. No better time than now. Maybe it’ll take my mind off the feeling that I said something wrong to my Stranger.
I go downstairs, where Ellie’s sitting in the same position as before, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Collapsing on the couch beside her, I try to ignore how she stiffens, and ask, “So how do you like the pizza place job?”
“It’s a job.”
“Are they nice there?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
“You get a lot of tips?”
This time, I get a grunt out of her. She’s really not engaging, so I decide to switch gears.
“Hey, so, I saw this ad for community college. They have a medical assistant program. I think you’d be really good for it. I got the number of an advisor you can talk to, if you want…”
She looks up from her phone, the light from the screen illuminating the annoyed expression on her face. “What on earth makes you think I’d want to be a medical assistant? You know I get nauseous at the sight of blood.”
Ellie lifts the remote, powers off the television, and storms up to her bed, mumbling something about how she’s never good enough for me.