Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
But he remained silent.
“What happens tomorrow?” I asked softly, since that was one of the biggest reasons I was having so much trouble sleeping. I wasn’t used to not being in charge of myself. I ignored the voice in my head that insisted that maybe, for once, it wasn’t such a bad thing.
“Ronan gave me the name of the specialist he wants Violet to go see. He would have texted you the information, but you don’t seem to be carrying your phone anymore.”
“I was afraid Aleks could have Vaughn track me if I had it with me,” I murmured. “So I left it at my apartment. I’m not really used to having a phone anyway… Aleks is the only one who ever calls me,” I added absently. My heart was in my throat as I said, “But Ronan already examined Violet. He said she was okay.”
I saw Luca glance at me, though I couldn’t see his expression. But his voice was noticeably softer when he murmured, “She probably is, Remy. The therapist will be able to ask her things in a way we can’t. If she’s suffering from any kind of emotional trauma, we need to know so we can deal with it.”
“Right,” I said softly as I clasped my hands together and looked at the floor. I wouldn’t have even thought to take Violet to someone like that. It was just further proof that I wasn’t equipped to take care of the child. Guilt slammed into me all over again. The same guilt that’d had me seeking escape this afternoon when I’d admitted to Luca that I didn’t want to try and raise Violet. I’d never felt like more of a failure in my entire life.
I felt the cushion next to mine dip, but I didn’t look up.
“Talk to me, Remy. Tell me what you need.”
I needed him to not be so damn observant… or I needed to get back to being better at pretending at things.
What I really needed was a fix.
Then none of this shit would matter.
I waited for the instinctive need to fight back against my own body’s needs to kick in, but it wasn’t there. I reached for my left forearm to run my fingers along the many, many track mark scars in the hopes of reminding myself why I needed to make sure I never stuck another needle into my veins ever again. But the agitation grew and grew and soon I was picking at my skin, then reaching for my hair.
My hand never made it there.
I jumped when Luca’s fingers closed around mine.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispered. My hand was cradled between both of his. One of his thumbs was rubbing against mine. Goosebumps exploded along what had to be my entire body. His touch was definitely a distraction, but it seemed to only fuel the hunger that was making my blood burn beneath my skin.
“Distract me,” I choked out. “Tell me… tell me about the ocean and the dolphins.”
It was the absolute worst topic I could have chosen, but with how quickly I was falling down the rabbit hole, I knew I needed something big to hang on to. I’d tried so many times not to remember the things Luca had told me about himself the night he’d pretended to assault me for the benefit of the people watching us via hidden video cameras, but when things got really bad and I needed something worth fighting for, my mind inevitably went back to the sound of his voice and the promise of someday seeing his beach, those dolphins… to the knowledge that I was finally safe… and free… and wanted.
“I remember the first time I saw them. It was shortly after we moved into the house. Vaughn and I were mad because it meant we had to switch schools, leave our friends. Vaughn and I were in the backyard pouting… and planning. Our mother didn’t buy into any of that nonsense, so she just left us out there. We missed dinner and everything. But we were determined to get our way, so we didn’t go back into the house. It was summer so it stayed lighter longer. Vaughn and I were both starving, but we’d agreed that we couldn’t back down. We were sure that if we just held out long enough, our mother would give in to our silent protest and take us back to the city.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“I was seven, Vaughn was nine.”
“And did your hunger strike work?” I asked.
I swore I heard Luca chuckle. He was still holding on to my hand. My racing heart finally felt like it wasn’t going to jump right out of my chest anymore, but I was still on edge. I focused on Luca’s voice and touch and tried to match my breathing to the rhythm of his finger stroking mine.