Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
“What are you thinking?” Noah asks, and I shake myself out of my thoughts and focus on him.
“That I want to start a fire in the backyard and toss all this in.”
“What?”
I motion at the couch, then walk over and pick up a pink quilted vintage Chanel bag by its gold braided handle. “This purse cost almost eight grand.” I watch his shoulders jerk back in surprise. “It was a gift from Conner after the first time he cheated on me—or at least the first time I found out.” I toss it down, then pick up a slouchy black leather Gucci shoulder bag. “I bought this when I was in Paris. Conner was supposed to go with me, but he canceled on me at the last minute.” I meet his gaze. “It was our honeymoon.” I wave a hand out toward the couch. “Everything here has a sad, depressing memory like that.”
“Babe,” he says quietly, sounding as if he’s in pain. I know I shouldn’t like that my hurt bothers him, but I do because it shows he genuinely cares.
“Even though I really wouldn’t mind burning it all, I know that would be stupid.” I look at the stack of shoeboxes that all together probably add up to ten grand.
“Sell it all,” he says softly while taking a step toward me. “Pay off your car and put the rest in the bank.”
“Is that what you would do?”
“Yes.” His hand curls around my waist, causing my stomach muscles to clench as his gaze locks on mine. “I know you said you don’t want anything from that asshole, but he fucking owes you.”
“I—”
He interrupts my protest by dropping a kiss to the edge of my mouth. It causes the breath I was about to release to get trapped in my lungs. “I’ll move it all to the guest room upstairs until you’re ready to deal with it.” He lets me go, grabs an armful of stuff, and heads for the stairs.
“Thank you,” I call to his back. He stops on the bottom step, then turns to look at me. “For this.” I motion at the couch, then around the room. “For everything.”
He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something but then seems to think better of it. He shakes his head and continues up the steps without another word.
I stand there for a long moment, wondering what he was about to say, but I don’t even have a chance to ask him because when he comes back down, he’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a flannel button-down shirt with a vest over it. His cell is to his ear, and the second he hangs up, he lets me know that he has to head into work and doesn’t know what time he’ll be back. I know by the look on his face that I don’t need to ask if everything is okay because it’s obviously not.
Chapter 15
Noah
Home
Unlocking the back door, I let myself into the house with my duffle bag over my shoulder. I carefully nudge Lola back with the side of my sneaker so I can close the door in time to shut off the alarm. It’s much later than I expected to be home, but there was a shooting involving two officers in town, so it was all hands on deck to find the person responsible. It took us hours, but before I left, we had a suspect in custody and word that both officers would be okay.
Once I punch in the code to reset the alarm, I kick off my sneakers, then bend to rub the top of Lola’s head, giving her whining pups the same attention. After a couple of minutes, I head down the hall, noticing a light flickering in the living room. My gut twists when I hit the kitchen and spot Bridgett on the couch, asleep under her blanket, the TV on a local channel playing on low as a news anchor covers the shooting.
Fuck.
I should have thought to call her or send a message, but I didn’t want to worry her. Dropping my duffle on one of the stools at the island, I walk into the living room and grab the remote off the table.
“You’re home.” Her sleepy voice sounds through the dim room before I can shut off the TV, and I watch as she sits, pushing her hair back away from her pretty face.
“You should be in bed.”
“I was worried.” Her gaze wanders over me, taking me in from my hoodie to my sweats. “You changed?”
“Showered at the station.” I take off my sweatshirt, toss it onto the back of the couch, and sit next to her. She eyes me for a moment, then lunges and wraps her arms around me, burrowing her face against my neck. “I should have called.”