Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I stretch my legs, still clad in my dirty work jeans, and wish I was in the bath letting it soak my sore muscles. Wishing I was holding Sara. But there’s a look in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t need that right now and, right now, it’s not about me.
Who even am I? It’s always about me.
“I’m okay.” She pokes a toe out of the bubbles. “I’m worried about Bethany, but I don’t know what I can do.”
I feel ya on that.
“Maybe Sabrina will be more calm when we get your stuff, and we can at least see Bethany,” I offer.
She frowns. “I hope so.”
I give her another bite. It’s slightly bigger than the last.
“I just keep thinking about how miserable she is in that big house,” she says. “Sabrina was a bit more controlled when I was a teenager because my dad was there. We’d fight, and she was cold, but she didn’t completely lose her shit.”
Her toes flick water against the tub.
“How old were you when you moved out?” I ask.
“Eighteen. Hence, my debt. I had to get out of there, and Dad figured I was an adult so I could figure it out on my own. Then he died shortly after that, and Sabrina inherited everything, so that was the bookend for me on that life.”
How does someone do that to their child? Or to anyone they profess to love? That screams neglect. And must only reinforce her thoughts of not being good enough.
Fuck all of them.
My parents bought their children houses on the same street as them so we could all be close. And they say I’m needy. Our family is lucky we were able to afford to do that, but even if we weren’t, I’m sure they would’ve supported us however they could—at the very least, they would’ve always been there for us emotionally.
My phone chirps. I pull it out.
Maddox: Good news. Sara’s rental is ready. The tenant had a warrant and didn’t want the court system involved. So I have the keys. Let me know if you want me to bring them home or if you want to meet me over there this evening.
Fuck. I glance up to see Sara studying me. I have to tell her.
My stomach tightens. “That was Mad. He has the keys to the apartment you were wanting to get.”
Her brows shoot to the ceiling. “Oh.”
“You don’t have to go, you know.”
“Why wouldn’t I go?”
My heart races, and I move the plate off my lap because I feel like I might jump to my feet.
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “You just seem like you need someone to take care of you tonight.”
I don’t know what I said, but tears pour down her cheeks. My insides scream at me to do something to stop it—that I upset her—but for the love of all that’s holy, I don’t know how.
“Sara …”
She scoots up in the tub. Her breasts sit just above the bubbles, and I can’t even enjoy them.
“I love that you want to take care of me, Banks. You are taking care of me—more than anyone in my life ever has.” Streams of mascara streak her face. “But this … shit, this drama, is a part of my life. It’s an unfortunately big part of who I am. I can’t stop moving forward because something gets all fucked up or else I’d be sitting in your tub crying all the damn time.”
Her words pierce my heart. The look on her face turns the knife and twists it, causing me to bleed all over the bathroom floor.
“Then sit there,” I say, unsure of what else to say. “And I’ll sit right here and remind you of how great things are on the other side of the bathtub.”
At least she tries to smile.
I sit on my knees and face her, needing her to believe me. “You can’t let what that nasty woman said get to you, babe. You are so much more than what she said.”
“But what she said was true—”
“Look at you.” I point at the mirror across the room. “If this is a part of your life, you’re still here. You’re here and strong and smart and beautiful. So fucking beautiful. You’re funny and impressive and so good at giving head.”
She shakes her head, her lips flirting with a grin.
“You’re impressive and talented. You have an interview with Myles Petterson.” I stop to let that sink in. “You did that. He saw you and what you’re capable of, and he wants you on his team. Think about that. That’s amazing.”
She scoots around, her ass sliding against the porcelain.
My brain flies like it does when a new car comes in the shop, and I start mentally planning all the things I need to do and check and replace and repair. It’s like that, only more frantic. More necessary.