Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Jersey …” Ian’s voice cracked.
“No.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “You’re not allowed to feel sorry for me. I … I was going to have a family. Shortly after they placed me with Dena and Charles, my birth mom died. She OD’d. And since there was no record anywhere of my biological father, the Russells would have been able to adopt me. And…” she blew out a quick breath and lifted her gaze to the ceiling “…I would have been Rachel or Abigail … maybe a Heather. Heather Russell. Something common, simple, normal.”
Nothing.
Ian gave her absolutely nothing.
Not a flinch.
Not a blink of recognition.
Not a drop of blood draining from his face at the mention of Charles and Dena.
Was he innocent?
Or ruthless?
“Do you know how they died?” She pinned him with a look, daring him to move. Daring him to lie. Daring him to run one more step from the truth and the consequences.
“I’m having Chris removed from my house.”
Her eyebrows lifted up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
Ian gnashed his teeth. “I don’t like him texting you, calling you, filling your head with lies.”
And just like that, Jersey’s world tipped onto its side. Kind Ian vanished, and the monster emerged. She crossed a line, and he wasn’t ready to let her see what was on the other side. He wanted to get rid of the gatekeeper.
“How horrible, Ian?” She pushed away from the table and stood, balling her hands.
“Now I’m Ian?”
Her nose burned with emotion, tears like acid, rage like an inferno. Every inch of her body vibrated with anger. “It was an early Friday morning. Charles and Dena took their usual morning walk together. They trusted me to stay at home with the three younger kids. We were usually still asleep by the time they returned.
“Hand in hand. That’s how they always walked, like sharing their love with abandoned children only intensified their love for each other. They were never gone more than an hour. I knew … I just knew something wasn’t right. It was almost lunchtime when several cars parked out front; two of them were police cars. I don’t remember their exact words. I just remember the ones in my head. You’re not getting real parents and a new name. You’re not going shopping for a prom dress. You’re not going to college. You’re once again … unloved.”
“You’re not un—”
“I am!” She pounded her fists on the table, knocking the glass bottle over, sending water running off the edge of it.
The ghost of sympathy on Ian’s face hardened into something else, something she couldn’t quite identify.
“Lyrics don’t mean anything, if you don’t give me everything. And even if I want to let myself believe that Chris loves me, I know it’s because I’m all he has. Our love isn’t real. I’m not a choice for him. I’m just his only option. But some day he will remember everything, and he will find his family. But for now, he is the only truth in my life because, even if it’s not much, he’s giving me everything he has to give.”
She closed her eyes, jaw clenched, and took a slow breath. “Someone ran them over. They killed them. They drove off. They got away with murder. They put three young kids back on the fucking market, probably destined to land in a shitty home. And they evicted me from my home, my whole goddamn life!”
After her echo evaporated and a cloud of silence filled the room, Ian stood, meeting her hard gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Her nose twitched with anger. “I don’t want an apology.” Each word teetered on the edge of control, grating past her throat to find her lips.
Ian grabbed the back of his neck and just kept his hand there, soothing some physical pain or holding himself together. She wasn’t sure.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“A confession.” Her chin tipped up a fraction, eyes narrowed.
“From whom?”
“You.”
“What is my confession?”
If she said it, there would be no going back. Her access to Ian Cooper could end in a matter of seconds. And maybe that was okay. The time had come to end it. To end him.
“For the record,” Jersey whispered, glancing down at the mess on the table. What was left of her heart crumbled, disintegrating into dust, into nothing. “I think I could have loved you.”
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Jersey jumped as they turned toward the door.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
“Ian!”
He brushed past Jersey, opening the door. Max charged inside. “Why haven’t you answered your phone?”
Ian nodded toward the bathroom. “I left it on the vanity after my shower. What the hell is going on?”
Max held up her phone and the video playing on the news app. Ian narrowed his eyes at the screen, slowly taking the phone from her hand, lips parted. The volume wasn’t turned up enough for Jersey to hear it well.