Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I followed him, watched as he took the quilt to the trash, then angrily slammed it down. The lid followed.
Without a word or a glance at me, he stormed back inside and shut the door.
I went to the trash, pulled the quilt out, and then took it back inside.
He was nowhere to be seen, which worked out.
With what little strength I had, I washed the quilt. Cleaned it, dried it, and then laid it back delicately on the couch.
All the while Dante stayed sequestered in his room.
Day 14 Post Surgery
“Today you need to write your eviction letter,” Dante ordered.
I blinked, then turned.
“Have you heard any more?”
Dante nodded.
“Jack got the number off the side of the box. From what I was able to understand, it’s ammo. Not the guns that they were originally thinking. The ammo itself is all military surplus, though. It was sold at an auction for pennies on the dollar due to the sheer amount that was sold. However, the buyer was a guy out of Florida. He reported the shipment missing about a month ago. Apparently, this is connected to some case that Rafe is working on, but that’s all he would give me. I hadn’t even realized he was working a case, so whatever we did helped him out. However, we’re all agreed that you should evict him. Rafe, I think, is hoping that they’ll move the shipment to where other stolen items are being held—in which I’m not supposed to know about. So, don’t go sharing that I know.”
He gave me a pointed look, and I saluted him.
“Sir. Yes, sir.”
He rolled his eyes at me.
Then flicked the tip of my nose with one blunt finger.
It made my breath catch.
Day 15 Post Surgery
Dante and Mary were in Mary’s room. Dante was trying to get Mary asleep, and Mary was fighting it with everything she had. Dante would get her to sleep, though, hopefully for the night.
I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, starving.
So hungry, in fact, that I’d actually been able to get up and find myself something to eat instead of waiting for Dante.
Dante did TV dinners.
He did a lot of sandwiches, and he also did a lot of frozen corn dogs.
What he did not do was cook—at least well. He tried, yes. But trying and excelling were two different things.
Craving something hot that didn’t come out of a box that wasn’t housing frozen food, I took it upon myself to look through his cabinets.
His mother had come over and stocked the pantry the day before, and my eyes lit on the box of macaroni that was just sitting on the shelf.
Not wanting to bother Dante, I shuffled to the cabinets and started to open them. I didn’t stop until I found a pot big enough to fit two boxes of macaroni.
Once I had it going—my chest starting to ache—I’d walked to the fridge to get a drink.
Opening both doors out of habit, my eyes lit on the ice cream.
Smiling, I pulled it out, placed it on the counter, and then shuffle-walked to the cabinet I’d seen the bowls in earlier.
Once I had a bowl and a spoon, I went back to the table and took a seat.
It took me another five minutes before I could find the strength to scoop any ice cream out. Another five to get the lid back on and look at my pitiful amount of ice cream—who knew how many muscles you worked that were in your chest—which also happened to be sore?
So, there I was, sitting there, eating my ice cream and waiting for the water to boil on the stove when Dante came in.
At first, he only smiled when he saw me there.
But then his eyes lit on the bowl—a cute little pink bowl that said ‘Yum!’ on it.
His eyes went all wonky, and he left the room without another word.
I never saw him again that evening, but in the middle of the night when I got up for a glass of water, I saw the same bowl broken into about ten pieces in the trash. Along with the spoon that I’d used—another one that was shaped differently than all the others.
And that was when I realized that they must’ve been his wife’s, and he most certainly didn’t like me using them.
Day 16 Post Surgery
Mary was back. And when I say Mary was back, I meant she was back. There were no more fevers. No more sitting still in anybody’s lap, mine or her daddy’s. No more throwing up. And there was no more up all night, sleep all day. She was back on her routine. She was back to her grandmother’s, and I was back left alone.
Only, I wasn’t left alone at my own house. I was left alone at Dante’s house.
Dante’s house that was covered with another woman’s life.