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)
“Where are you going?”
He sighed. “To warn them. I have to. My conscience is full.”
A few minutes later, they funneled out from the front door. Jersey shared a nervous smile, like she would have gone in to warn them had Chris not already been headed that way. She reserved her I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anyone smile for another time. Ian set Foxy and Lola down and pulled his phone out of his pocket, reading something on the screen.
“You can stay with me,” Max said.
Ian shook his head. “Paul Blevins said they’re on their way to the airport. He’s sorry they missed seeing us and sorry about the fire. They’ll be in Italy for three months. He said we’re welcome to stay at his house. Apparently, he showed Chris everything about the security system.”
Jersey frowned at the way Ian said Chris’s name with such disgust. On the upside, his attitude fueled her anger toward him, and that was what she needed to carry out her plans.
Ian slipped his phone back into his pocket and scrubbed his face with his hands.
“Do you want me to take your bags over there?” Shane asked.
Ian nodded, letting his hands drop from his face on a big sigh.
“Want me to take your dogs back to the neighbor’s house?” Chris asked.
“I don’t want you to touch anything that’s mine.”
Everyone froze, eyes wide, lips parted. Ian didn’t even look at Chris when he said it, as if Chris wasn’t worthy of a single glance.
“This isn’t his fault.” Max broke the awkward silence.
Chris’s eyes flitted between Max and Ian. Jersey kept her attention on Ian and his awful side exposed for all to see.
“You’re tired, Ian,” Max continued. “We all are. I’ll send some food over to their house. You should grab a shower and sleep. Then we’ll start sorting through this tomorrow.”
Ian stared off into the distance, squinting against the setting sun. After a few more awkward seconds, he nodded. Jersey picked up Lola and eyed Chris until he got her silent plea to pick up Foxy. They headed toward the Blevins’s while Shane climbed into the SUV to take the bags next door.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
“You can go.” Ian stared at his house, feeling Max’s judgmental gaze on his back.
“It’s insured. No one died.” She tried to reassure him.
“You can go.”
Max waited a few seconds before grabbing Ian’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“For not asking.” He glanced at her.
“About what?”
“My past.”
“Because it’s painful?”
He returned his attention to the house. “Because it’s ugly.”
As promised, Max made sure food was delivered. Jersey and Chris gave Ian the silent treatment, taking their food upstairs to eat while Ian ate in the kitchen with the dogs.
After he took them outside to do their thing, he locked up and climbed the stairs. At the top, Jersey glanced up, with her bag over her shoulder.
“Shane put my bag in the same bedroom with yours. But I’m staying with Chris because I’m not yours. Not yours to touch, to control, to own.”
“I never said you were,” he replied in a defeated tone.
“What you said to Chris was about me. Everyone knew you were pissing on me like I’m some possession of yours.”
Ian stood still, unblinking, with a blank expression. “What I said to Chris was about me.” He ambled toward her, shaking his head while squeezing past her in the doorway to the bedroom. “Stay out of it, Jersey. You’re in over your head this time.”
Within seconds, he stumbled forward, flinching from the sharp pain in his lower back from her foot landing there. He turned toward her, quickly ducking to avoid her fist flying through the air.
“Jersey, what the fuck?” He grabbed her arm.
She used his hold on her to pull him closer, pounding her left fist into his face. Ian took a step back, wiping the blood from the cut along his cheek bone. Jersey held up her fists and gnashed her teeth. “Careful, Coop, I think you’re in over your pretty, little head. But when I’m done with you, there won’t be anything pretty about your face.”
Ian’s head jerked back. “What did he say to you?”
She smiled. “Chris? He said he couldn’t kill you. His conscience is full. But mine has room. I can kill you for taking something of mine. I can kill you for ruining my life.”
“W-what …” Ian shook his head. “What are you talking about?” His heart sank into his stomach, a nauseating pain. “I didn’t take anything from you.” His voice cracked because … he loved her. “Everything is for you. I want to give you the world, the pieces that were taken from you, the life you never had. Jersey, I want to give you back your dreams.”
With blood trailing down his cheek, he shook his head and whispered, “I love you.”
Her eyes turned red with tears. “Why? How?”