Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
When I finally reach my apartment complex, I run up the stairs to the second floor, grateful for the sensor lights flicking on, and with shaky fingers, shove my key in the lock. When it finally gives way, I tumble inside and slam the door shut behind me. Desperately trying to calm my racing heart and my brittle nerves, I fix the chain and lock the door.
Once in the small kitchen, I pour myself a shot from the tequila bottle I keep on top of the refrigerator and throw it back, finding warm comfort in the flames heating up my chest.
After a few minutes, I begin to calm down and eventually talk myself into believing I imagined the whole thing. No one had been following me. I’d had one too many wines and let my imagination get the better of me.
Feeling a little ridiculous—not to mention hot from a second shot of tequila— I move to the living room and curl up on the couch, then let myself fall asleep in front of the television and indulge in the knowledge I am safe.
I sleep deeply and dream of Cooper that night. We’re laughing like old times, and his hand is warm in my hand as we run through the daisies on his back lawn like we did when we were kids. But then a dark cloud passes over, and it’s just me on the back lawn. Cooper is gone, and I don’t know where he is. I begin to twist and turn in my sleep, drenched in sweat and sadness. The moment I learned of his death comes rushing back and crashes over me like a wall of water, sweeping me away in its undertow.
I sit up in a rush.
Panting, I wait for the dream to recede on the tide of wakefulness.
I am safe.
It was just a dream.
Little did I know, my nightmare is just beginning.
JACK
Present Day
It’s the hollering that wakes me up.
Followed by the loud banging on the door.
Opening one eye, I immediately feel the splintering pain of sunlight shatter through my hangover and groan.
Fucking moonshine.
I usually stay away from the stuff, but last night I gave in and indulged in some of the new batch Alchemy had uncorked at the Still, the club’s whiskey distillery.
One shot led to two…
… and two to three…
I stretch my aching body, pulling my muscles taut and enjoying the rush of comfort through every nerve and fiber when I relax them again. Maybe if I ignore the ruckus, I can catch some more shut-eye so I’ll be in better form for the poker game tonight. However, another round of knocking on the door, and a familiar voice drifts in through the open window.
It can’t be.
Forcing myself up, I drag myself out of bed and make my way through the quiet house and out the back door.
And there she is.
Little Bronte Vale.
Cooper’s best friend.
Standing on her grandma’s back stoop, she’s knocking loudly on their door.
Resting my forearm on the beam above my head, I lean forward. “Do my eyes betray me or is little miss Bronte Vale standing before me on her grandmama’s porch?”
She looks over, the frown lines on her face vanishing as she breaks into a smile. “Jack!” she says breathlessly.
Blonde hair gleams in the early sunshine, the silver choker around her neck glinting as she steps toward the porch railing.
I take in the beautiful face and bee-stung lips. “Well, I’ll be goddammed… it really is you.”
She lets out a deep breath and offers me a forced but dazzling smile. “In the flesh.”
She seems frazzled.
Either that, or she’s thinking about the last time we saw each other. I push back the thought before it can hit me in the places I don’t want it to slam into.
“Your grandmama expecting you? Because I hate to break it to you, darlin’, she’s out of town for a spell.”
“She is?” Her face falls.
“Left a couple of days ago. Told me she was visiting family in Missouri.”
“Aunt Mareldene,” Bronte whispers, her frown lines reappearing.
Noticing her tired eyes, I have the feeling something isn’t right.
“You tried ringing her?” I ask.
Bronte holds up her phone. “It’s flat.”
Throwing a thumb over my shoulder, I gesture toward my back door. “Come on, you can come inside and use mine,” I say. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee.”
Her sunny gaze sweeps over me. “So do you. Big night?”
Yeah, I probably look like shit. But she’s right, I could murder a cup of joe. I flash her a teasing grin. “You saying I look like shit?”
She smiles. This time it’s relaxed. “Now, would I ever say anything like that?”
“You once told me I looked like an Ewok on steroids when I came home from a three-week stint on the road.”
Going by the uneasy look on her face, she remembers.