Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
In retrospect, maybe moving away from my old life had been a mistake. My apartment had been within walking distance to all the shops and take-out places I liked to frequent, which gave me a sense of normalcy.
But it was also close to family. And mine could be of the invasive sort. Always trying to swoop in and "save" me or "fix" me, even though over a decade of therapy had never managed that before I finally decided to quit working on the whole exposure therapy thing, and just accepted that car avoidance was a part of my life.
I guess I had figured it wouldn't be a big deal. I wasn't a people-person by nature. I liked being alone. That was still true. But I guess there was something therapeutic about seeing the faces of people every couple of days that helped keep your social coffers full.
It had been a week since Jones had visited, since I had met the hulking Huck.
I'd been crushing out more videos than usual, just wanting something to do to fill my time. Especially because I hadn't been sleeping.
That wasn't new for me. I had never been someone who passed out and got eight solid hours, but my insomnia had been worse than usual, leaving me pacing my back porch at all hours of the night.
Like tonight.
It wasn't pacing weather, what with the humidity set to a thousand, making my clothes feel like they were sticking to me within minutes. There I was anyway, drinking grapefruit seltzer water like an old lady, and wondering if it would be worth it for me to make a trip into town myself to do some window shopping, see some people, maybe even share some face-to-face words with a few.
It was never easy, having to walk for about forty minutes in the sweltering heat to get to the train station, then get off and walk another half an hour before I made it to town.
I was exhausted just thinking about it.
A low, rustling noise had me stopping in my tracks, my stomach plummeting. My mind always went to snakes, even though I hadn't seen one since moving in.
But not two seconds later, I felt something cold press into my calf, making a shriek burst out of me as I jumped up and over two feet while somehow turning at the same time, spilling my seltzer on the front of my tank top.
That was when I heard a low whining noise that definitely wasn't like any snake I'd ever known.
"Oh, hey," I said, heart thumping as my gaze landed on a wide-headed, sweet-eyed pit bull with a hot pink collar sitting on my back porch. "Heya, honey. What's up?" I asked. "You don't belong here," I reminded her as she looked at me expectantly, her little stubby tail waggling back and forth. "Did you break outta that joint?" I asked, looking over toward the biker clubhouse.
I'd gotten so accustomed to the party sounds that I hardly noticed them anymore. But, sure enough, the front yard was lined with cars as well as the usual bikes and the one or two vehicles that belonged to the MC—a fancy-looking race car and a SUV.
The music, as usual, was thumping. And people milled in and out of the front and back doors.
Which was likely how the dog had escaped.
There was no guesswork in who she belonged to. I'd seen one of the bikers walking four dogs morning, noon, and night on top of the potty break walks around the property.
"I, ah, I guess I need to bring you back home, huh?" I asked, looking down at my outfit that was not meant for a party at all—a pair of yellow and white boxers and a black tank top with red flip-flops, but I didn't want to risk going back inside to change, and having her run off on me. "Can I touch your collar?" I asked, tentatively reaching out toward her, not seeing any signs of aggression. "That's a good girl," I decided, snagging the little loop where her tags hung, and walking half crouched to the side across my and then their front yard.
I was just closing in on the door when it suddenly flew open, two women stumbling out, laughing as they went, leaving the door open.
"See? That's how you got out, isn't it?" I asked the dog. "Come on. Let's find your dad. And hopefully he can put you somewhere safe for the rest of the night, yeah? Can't have you wandering around. I guess we should just go in," I decided, looking through the open front door.
I had no idea what to expect on the inside. Our places couldn't have been more vastly different on the outside. Mine was a white-sided ranch with very little originality. Theirs was a two-and-a-half floor home with a basement and sand-colored stucco. And where my house was modest at best, theirs was a sprawling thing that had to have at least boasted five-thousand square feet, not counting the basement or the half third floor which I figured was an attic.