Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
The girl starts to step out from the shadows. The police don’t know she’s there. But you do, and you shake your head, warning her not to do it.
The woman who runs the inn heard noises outside and called the police. Trespassers. She stands on her back porch, watching you get arrested.
Indecent exposure.
And you don’t know this, but that girl? She runs the whole way home wrapped up in nothing but that stolen sheet, her clothes abandoned. Her mother is awake when she gets there and hears her come in. You see, the woman has known her daughter sneaks out at night for months, but she’s never said a word about it. A mother knows. She knows what it’s like to love the boy the world tries to keep you from. Her mother would lay awake at night, listening, to make sure she made it back home, but this morning is different. The woman senses it. The girl confesses. She tells her you were arrested. ‘Don’t worry,’ her mother says. ‘I’ll help him.’
Chapter 13
KENNEDY
I absently tap my fingers against the screen as I stare at the text message on my phone. Are you interested in going out tonight? I’m debating how to answer that. Yes? No? Yes? No? Ugh. I type out some long-winded excuse before erasing it with a groan, typing some more utter crap before erasing that also. I type out ‘no,’ straight to the point, but ugh, I feel guilty, so I instead type ‘sure’ and press send like an idiot.
The second that it says ‘Delivered’ beneath the text bubble, I want to slap myself. So many regrets already.
“Ugh, what is wrong with you?” I ask myself, making a face as I start to type an excuse to get me out of it.
A throat clears behind me. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”
That voice, it catches me off guard, so close I can feel his warm breath fanning across my skin. A chill shoots through me, my hands shaking as I spin around, losing grip of my phone. It drops, landing facedown on the hard epoxy tile of the aisle. I cringe when it hits, but I don’t reach for it because of him.
Jonathan.
He’s right there, standing here in the grocery store, a foot of space between us, so close I have to look up to meet his eyes. My heart stalls a beat, being a traitorous nitwit, before it hammers in my chest, aggressively battering my ribcage like my insides are declaring war on my sanity.
Jonathan picks up my phone as it makes a noise. Before I can stop him, he glances at the screen and freezes. Something flashes in his eyes. He looks horrified. Oh god.
“It’s broken, isn’t it?”
He blinks at me. “Huh?”
“My phone.”
“Oh, uh... no.” Shaking it off, he hands the phone to me, screen still intact. “Whoever Andrew is wants a time.”
What time should I pick you up?
The text is prominently displayed. My stomach bottoms out. My hands are still shaking, and I shove the phone in my back pocket without answering that question.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “I thought you left town.”
“I did,” he says. “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know you meant that quick. I wouldn’t have noticed you left. Why’d you even tell me?”
“Figured you should know.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, like maybe he doesn’t understand it, either. Before either of us can make sense of things, a feminine voice rings out in the aisle beside us, calling my name. Bethany. Panic flows through me. I don’t give it much thought, acting in the moment, a knee-jerk reaction to her approach.
I grab ahold of him, gripping tight to his arm and take off in a hurry. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t put up a fight as I drag him down the aisle, away from the sound of her voice, and shove him into a small back stockroom. I dart inside and shut the door, casting us in near total darkness. I can’t see Jonathan anymore, but I can feel him, right behind me, pressing up against me, his hand coming to rest on my hip. His touch heightens my panic. I shove away from him, putting space between us.
“Why are you here?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “You can’t be here.”
“I, uh…”
“Kennedy?” Bethany calls out from the other side of the door. “Are you back here?”
“Don’t talk,” I hiss at Jonathan. “Don’t even breathe.”
I open the door again and slip out, leaving it cracked behind me as I come face-to-face with Bethany. Her brow furrows as she looks into the pitch-black room behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Inventory.”
“In the dark?”
“Yeah, I, uh… yep.” I glance behind me before turning back to her. “Did you need something?”
“Marcus told me to find you.” Her face twists into a fake pout. Oh god. “I asked for the Saturday off in two weeks, and he said the only way I can have it is if I find someone to cover.”