Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I don’t know if he’s right for me.
I love him.
There’s no doubt in my head about that.
I love Gunner Reid.
He is my husband.
Soon to be ex-husband.
But I still love him.
These are the only facts I know.
Even with everything that’s happened, and how he treated me, kept me as a prisoner, I somehow still love him. I knew loving Gunner Reid would have its own set of issues, but what I didn’t expect was what came with him. And how it complicated everything so much more.
Flicking my eyes to the papers that I brought in yesterday, I pull them back and sign them hastily where they need to be signed, then push them away.
This is what I wanted—to be free of Gunner Reid.
And the minute I look back at those papers and know that now it’s for certain, tears start to leave my eyes, and I have to contain the sob that wants to rip from my throat and claw its way out for the world to hear.
Loving Gunner Reid was never easy.
It was hard. So fucking hard. But I was willing to do it anyway.
Until he showed me who he was. Until he showed me that part of him, the part I don’t think I could ever handle.
And that’s plain reality.
When I arrive back to my apartment, I see another bouquet of flowers sitting at my door. Reaching for the card, I leave them where they are as I read it.
* * *
Everly,
I have a courier coming to you in the morning.
He will be collecting the papers.
Gunner Reid.
* * *
He signed it as if I’m a business transaction. I scrunch the card up in my hand as I walk into my apartment, leaving the flowers where they sit out front. When I walk inside, I see another note that has obviously been slid under my door. Tearing it open, I see his handwriting again.
* * *
You’re angry. Don’t think harshly. Simply hand the forms over.
Remember, you wanted this, Everly.
I am simply giving you what you want.
Now give me what I want.
My name removed from you, forever.
* * *
Salt water hits the paper and smudges his writing. I wipe at my face, not even realizing I’m crying. How is that even possible? A knock comes at the door, startling me, and I wipe at my face hoping it’s him. But when I pull the door open, it’s my mother. She’s the last person I expected it to be. The minute I see it’s her, I start sobbing again, and she steps forward and wraps her arms around me, rubbing my back to soothe me as I cry in her arms.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I push off of her and close the door behind her. “You don’t want to bring in those beautiful flowers out front?” she asks, and all I can do is shake my head as I step away from my now-closed door. “Okay. So, I guess this has something to do with Gunner. I wish you would tell me why you two broke up. You’re so vague about the details.”
I look at her, really look at her. How can I tell my mother that my husband tied me up and tortured my body, in the most sexual of ways ever? And the worst part, even when I hated it, even when I wanted to kill him, I still wanted him. His fingers sliding in and out of me were divine, even when I told myself no.
“Okay, I get it. But if you must know, I think you’re making a mistake. That man clearly loves you.”
I shake my head and walk to my kitchen. She follows behind, I hear the click of her heels. “The way he looks at you… it took your father a good year to look at me like that.” She sighs heavily. “I won’t push you. Your father’s done enough of that in your life. Just know, I believe he does love you, and I can clearly see you love him, too.”
“I do love him, Mother, that was never the question. It’s what his love entails that‘s the issue.” She goes to speak and I throw up my hand. “No, don’t. I don’t want to hear it, and I won’t tell you. This is very personal, and not something you share with your mother.” She eyes me and sees that I’m being one hundred percent serious.
“That’s fine. I did come for a reason, though.” She steps in and looks around, having not been back here since I retook possession. I usually go and visit them every week, not the other way around. Her hand drags along the kitchen counter before she turns back to me. “Your father is hosting his annual gala. I know these things don’t interest you, but he asked that you come… for us.” I’ve missed two in my whole life. And believe me, he has them every year. Even as a child I was dragged to them. Now, I try my very best to get out of them.