Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Finally, there’s a click followed by Elena’s angelic voice.
“Hello, Elena speaking.”
“Elena, it’s Bain,” I say. “Don’t hang up, please.”
Another long pause. “Don’t worry, I won’t. How are you calling me? Do they allow that?”
“No, not really,” I chuckle. “But for me, they bend the rules sometimes. I just wanted to call you and apologize for the way things happened – the way things ended specifically. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, it’s all right. You didn’t upset me—”
“Elena,” I interrupt. “I know I did. At least allow me to apologize.”
Another long pause. I can practically picture her on the other end of the phone, thinking, an adorable expression on her face, maybe biting her lip while she thinks over what I’m saying. Lord, please don’t let me have blown this with her.
“I shouldn’t have freaked out,” she says finally in a tone that fills me with relief. “I just…I wasn’t ready for that conversation.”
“And that’s fine,” I tell her. “I should have simply wrapped you in my arms and held you close and kept my mouth shut. And that’s exactly what I’ll do next time, Elena. I promise. That is…if you’ll see me again.”
8
Elena
I drive back to the prison, drumming my fingers anxiously against my thigh. Somehow, I’m even more nervous than I was the first time. Does that even make sense? I guess it’s because I feel like Bain and I had an unbelievable first date that started off strong but then went off the rails, and now if we don’t hold it together this time, there will be no hope for us.
First date? What am I even thinking right now? I have to get my dude-brain working.
This isn’t a date; this is just a hook-up. Like Kelly said, he’s in prison for life, so it’s not like he’s going to pull out a ring, get down on knee, and propose to me or something. I’m going here for one thing and one thing only, and I need to remember that.
Why am I even thinking about Bain proposing to me anyway? He’s a serial killer, for crying out loud. That would just be…insane. It’s not like I could ever tell the people back at work about him. “Oh yeah, guys, remember that guy we put away five years ago? We’re getting married!”
Yeah, absolutely crazy. So then why can’t I stop thinking about it as I drive closer and closer to the prison?
Something about that phone call…the way he spoke to me. He really seemed concerned about how things ended during my last visit, and not just because he wanted me to come see him again. I don’t want to be one of those girls who kids themselves into thinking a guy actually likes her when he’s really only interested in one thing, but I actually think Bain does genuinely like me.
But what’s actually scaring me is that I think I may actually genuinely like him too.
“Terrifying thought, Elena,” I say to myself as I pull onto the private drive leading up to the prison. “Could you really love a serial killer?”
It is a terrifying thought, but what’s even more terrifying is the fact that as I drive and the prison’s fences come into view, I realize that I don’t have an answer for myself.
I park and go through the same procedure as before, only this time I feel as though my heart literally might explode, and by the time I’m walking up to the trailer, I’m absolutely sure I’m going to pass out before I reach the steps. Somehow, I manage not to and make it to the door, which swings open to reveal Bain’s handsome face, smiling down at me like a prince. A warm feeling literally floods my chest when I see how happy he is to see me.
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up,” he says.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” I tease, doing my best to appear calm. I must be pulling it off, because he just chuckles and extends a hand to help me up the last step and inside.
I try, for a moment, to pretend like I’m not entering a conjugal trailer but a house that we both share, and I try to imagine what that would be like and whether or not I could wrap my head around sharing a space with this man and if I could put the terrible things he’s done out of my mind and just enjoy his presence.
And as I watch his eyes as they move across my body, filled with such obvious desire, and then settle on mine with a fixation that causes my heart to flutter, I feel like I might. I just might.
“Trench coat,” he remarks with an approving nod. “I like it.”
I look down and laugh. “I completely forgot I was wearing it.”
“Very Desperate Housewives.”