Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Did you fuck our roommate?” Will’s words cut through the tense air as he slides his phone onto the counter with one hand and parks his other hand on his hip.
Slowly, I nod.
With a deep inhale, Will looks at the ceiling.
“But for what it’s worth, it never happened here.”
Will grunts. “That’s a relief, because that’s what the rule meant—don’t screw fellow roommates in the house.”
“Are you done?”
Will crosses his arms. “Why? You don’t want a girlfriend or a wife. You don’t want kids. So why risk having Maren and I pissed at you? Why risk getting kicked out of the house? Why take advantage of our friend who is ten years younger than you?”
All great questions. I don’t have the answers, but I won’t show Will that side of my messed-up psyche. “I’m thirty-five, not fifteen. I can navigate sex with a woman without it turning into a total debacle. It’s about setting expectations and boundaries. And stop making it sound like it wasn’t consensual or that I took advantage of someone who just turned eighteen.”
Will returns a blank stare. “She wears friendship bracelets and gets excited when there’s a full moon. She reads her horoscope. I bet she cries while watching Disney movies. There’s no way you two hooked up without her feeling more than your amateur attempt to make her orgasm.”
“Fuck you.”
He slowly shakes his head and walks toward me, resting his hand on my shoulder. “No, Fitz. Fuck you for standing here talking to me when someone attacked her days ago.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
JAYMES
“Hey.” Melissa’s lips pull into a shaky smile while she slides from my desk chair to the edge of my bed. “Do you need more for your pain?”
“N-no.” I clear the frog from my throat. “I hate how it makes me feel.”
She hands me a glass of water and holds the straw while I sip. “I think the point is for you not to feel the pain.”
I wince, trying to sit upright. “My head.”
“It’s a miracle you only have a concussion and a broken nose. No missing teeth. No fractured skull. And you have one eye that’s not swollen shut, so there’s that.”
“I don’t feel miraculous. I feel like I’ve been asleep for days.”
“You’ve slept a lot. And they caught your neighbor late last night. I called to check this morning. His girlfriend is beside herself. She feels responsible. That baseball bat was meant for her, but she said she tripped, and you were just there.”
“Right place. Right time,” I mumble.
“Well”—Melissa’s nose wrinkles—“let’s not go that far.”
I gingerly touch my broken nose. “Let me see a mirror.”
“I think we should wait on that.” Melissa rolls her lips over her teeth.
“It’s still awful, isn’t it?”
“You’re a nurse. Do I really have to review the stages of bruising with you?”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to notify anyone.”
“And by anyone, you meant Calvin.”
“I meant anyone.”
She nods slowly. Too slowly.
“If you called him—”
“I didn’t call him.” She cringes. “I texted him.”
“Mel!”
“Don’t ‘Mel’ me. Do you have any idea how freaked out I was when you didn’t call me back? And the next thing I knew, the hospital was calling me because I’m your emergency contact. I thought for sure you’d been in a car accident.”
“What did he say?”
“What?”
“Calvin. Did he respond to your text?”
“He’s probably on a fire,” Melissa says, but it does little to ease the ache in my chest.
That’s code for he hasn’t responded. It’s been three days since the incident.
“Jamie, you have to tell me about the bear guy. You were in a panic the day you called me. You said he thought you’re his wife or daughter?”
“Dwight,” I murmur before inhaling and sorting through the events of the past few days. “He asked me about his sister, whom he called my aunt. After I said I hadn’t seen her, he proceeded to tell me about a scar on her face going from her eye to her jawbone.” I wait for Melissa to react.
She squints before returning a cautious nod.
“My mom had that same scar.”
“I know. But I don’t think she was the only person with a scar from her eye to her jaw.”
“He said his sister stuttered when she was younger, and their mom made her take singing lessons to help. And it cured the stutter.”
“Did your mom stutter when she was younger?” she asks, slightly laughing, like it’s impossible.
“Yes.”
Melissa’s smile dissolves. “That’s . . . freaky.” She taps the pads of her fingers on her lips. “Did your mom have siblings?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go. It’s a freakish coincidence, and that’s where it ends. Again, people share similar scars. Some people stutter. And I bet singing is a common treatment for stuttering.”
“Stuttering is four times as common in men,” I counter.
“But clearly, women can stutter.”
“He said, despite the singing lessons, his sister was a terrible singer. My mom said the same thing about herself.”