Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Smiling from ear to ear, I pull out my key fob and unlock my mother’s car as I approach. But as I reach out to open the driver’s side door, someone grabs me roughly from behind. I open my mouth to scream, but something is smashed against my mouth and nose. A cloth. It smells weird. Toxic. What is that?
For a split-second, I struggle against the strong arms holding me. I try to scream and kick. But it’s useless. My limbs are heavy. My vision is blurring. A weird sweetness has entered my mouth, making me want to gag. Suddenly, my legs give way beneath me . . . and that’s the last thing I’m aware of before my vision turns to black.
41
HENN
“It’s four o’clock, Seattle time,” I announce. “Hannah’s been out of her therapy session for five hours.”
Reed calmly cuts the stupidly expensive steak on his gilded plate. “Apparently, she doesn’t wish to speak to you yet.”
I lean back in my chair, too anxious to eat another bite. “I could have sworn she was ready to forgive and forget yesterday when we talked. Did her therapist talk her out of forgiving me today?”
I’m sitting at a table in a Chicago steak house with Reed, feeling deeply hungover and anxious as fuck. In about an hour, we’re supposed to board Reed’s private jet to fly to New York next, because Reed wants to say a quick hello to his mother and then hit some big, industry-related party, which he’s planning to drag me to as his plus-one. We’ve both agreed, however, if I hear from Hannah before then and she says something, anything, that gives me hope, he’ll fly to New York on a commercial flight—gasp—and give me his plane to hightail it to Seattle. When I made that deal with Reed hours ago, I thought for sure he’d be flying to New York on his own. But as the minutes continue ticking by without a peep from Hannah, I’m beginning to think the Big Apple is in my imminent future, along with a whole lot of heartbreak.
“Did Hannah promise to call you at a specific time?” Reed asks, cutting another sliver of steak.
“No.” I peek at my phone again. Still nothing. “She said her appointment was at ten and would take an hour and she’d call me at some point after that. She did mention possibly grabbing lunch before calling me, but how long could that possibly take?” I run my hand through my hair. Would Hannah feel wooed or smothered if I showed up uninvited in Seattle and threw myself at her feet? I’m sleep-deprived, adrenaline-fueled, hungover, and verging on panic—not a great combination for optimal decision-making—but my gut tells me Hannah would feel wooed. “I should go to Seattle, whether I hear from her or not.”
Reed calmly cuts another piece of his food. “Don’t chase her, Peter. You’ve already groveled enough.”
“Says the man who can’t hold down a healthy, committed relationship to save his life.”
“By choice. If I wanted a committed relationship, then I’d have one. But I don’t.” He calmly stabs a bite of veggies with his fork.
“Well, I do.” I pick up my phone. “I’m gonna check flights.”
“Have you considered the possibility that Hannah might not have called you yet because she’s currently sitting on a flight to LA as a surprise?”
My heart stops. That’s definitely something Hannah would do! And it would absolutely explain her uncharacteristic radio silence. “You’re a genius, Reed Rivers.”
“So I’ve been told many times.”
I palm my forehead. “Except that you’re a fucking idiot. Why’d you make me come to Chicago, when Hannah could very well be landing in LA this very minute?”
Before Reed has replied, his phone rings, and he picks up. “Hey, O. What’s up?”
“O” is Owen, Reed’s trusty assistant. As Reed launches into his phone call, I check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a call or text from Hannah. When it’s clear I haven’t, I post about Greg Smith in a few new Facebook groups, just to pass the time. Contact a few more gyms. Check in with Demon Spawn to see if he’s planning to purchase another used car in the near future, and if so, where. You know, the same sorts of things I’ve been doing for a few months now. When I grow bored of my Greg-Smith-related shenanigans, I give in to temptation and glance at my texts again, but there’s still nothing from Hannah. Fuck it. I’ll send her one.
Me: I hope therapy went well. Please call me as soon as you can to let me know you’re okay.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” our pretty waitress asks.
I look up and open my mouth, but Reed beats me to it.
“Just the check,” he says, though he’s still on his call.
“Let me get this one,” I say.