Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“Ah, yeah, I guess.” He turns from looking at me to look around the apartment like he’s never seen it before. I’m not sure it’s even an apartment. It’s more of a townhome. It’s better than any place I’ve ever stayed before.
It’s modern but clean. It has an open living area with a giant TV mounted on the wall, and a dining room and kitchen flow into each other. Everything matches and has a place. You could easily fit my little place into this four times over.
The furnishings are all in deep wood colors, making it look masculine. It almost looks unlived in, as if it’s one of those houses to show people the home’s potential.
I don’t want to touch anything in case I mess it up. It makes me feel a little out of place, like I shouldn’t be in here. “Are you sure this is okay? I can really just”
“No, it’s fine,” he says, cutting me off and pulling me further into the home. “Kitchen, dining room, and living room.” He points to each area, then starts to pull me down the hall.
“An office here and spare bathroom here.” He points to two closed doors, but keeps pulling me down the hall. “This room is just empty.” He points to another closed door, not bothering to open it. We get to the last door in the hallway. He pushes to the door open, pulling me in with him.
I don’t know why I’m not scared. I should be freaking out, letting a man I don’t know drag me around an unfamiliar home. We are completely alone, but all I feel is safe.
“The bedroom,” he says, releasing my hand and walking over to the bed.
The bedroom looks just like the rest of the house. Pretty but simple.
I look down at myself, thinking about crawling into the perfectly made bed. The hospital gave me some tie pants and a baggy shirt that reads Mercy West Hospital across the chest, but it was a pointless endeavor because I’ve made them smell like smoke.
The reminder makes me want to cry. I have no freaking clothes, and the ones I do have, smell. I push down the lump rising in my throat. I’ll make the bed smell just as bad if I crawl into it, and right now that’s all I want to do.
Sleep, if only for a few hours, before I need to get to my first job of the day.
When I look back up, Derek is standing right in front of me.
“You want a shower, angel?” His words are soft and sweet, such a contrast to his giant size.
“I smell like smoke. I don’t want to get it on the bed.” I think about the leather sofa in the living room. Maybe I could shower and sleep on that. It feels wrong to sleep in someone else’s bed. Intimate.
“Alright. Take a shower.” He nods to a door, which I’m guessing leads to the bathroom. “And I’ll find you something to wear. I’ll put it on the bed. Towels should be in there.”
“Thank you for everything. I promise I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
“No rush.” His hand comes up and cups my cheek for just a second as he brushes a thumb across it. He leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
I turn, going into the bathroom and looking at myself in the mirror. The sight makes me cringe. I normally don’t care what I look like, but I look a freaking hot mess. My eyes are red underneath, and smudges of smoke mar my face and arms. My blonde hair almost looks a shade darker than its usual color.
I turn away and flip on the shower, dropping my clothes to the floor, wanting them and the smoke removed from my body as fast as possible. I don’t know how many times I wash my hair, trying to make sure the smell is gone, but when exhaustion finally catches up to me, I give in. I turn off the water and pull myself from the bathroom.
I see the clothes sitting on the side of the bed, and the bedroom door is closed once again. I let myself fall into bed. I just want to rest my eyes for a second before I get dressed and pull myself to the living room.
But before I know it, sleep takes me.
8
Phoenix
I wait a long time, longer than I thought possible, before going and knocking on the bedroom door. I put my ear to it, and when I don’t hear anything, I crack it slightly and call out her name.
“Fia? Are you decent?”
Reluctantly I look in and see that she’s tucked in under the covers, fast asleep, even though the overhead light is on and the sun is coming up outside. I’m used to going without sleep, but she must be utterly exhausted. She looks right in my bed. Like she belongs there. Giving my plain bedroom life. Making it feel like a home, and not a place I dread. It’s been months since I’ve wanted to crawl into my own bed, but that’s all I want to do in this moment.