Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Yeah, Dad,” I murmured softly. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Maybe then I can get some answers.”
Only, the next day didn’t go any better.
Or the day after that.
Or the day after that.
Then, the icing on the cake was when the doctor came out and told us—with Rafe’s blessing of course, since he didn’t want to see us, but he knew that we’d want to know his prognosis—the other news. News that changed my entire life.
He had an inoperable brain aneurysm, and under no circumstances was he to be upset in any way.
If he did get upset, stressed, or excited, that could mean the end of his life.
Which only left me even more depressed. If I couldn’t remind him who I was—which might very well upset him and stress him out—then what else could I do? What choice did I have?
There was only one.
Leave him alone with the hope that he’d figure it out on his own.
Chapter 9
I solemnly swear I’m going to rock your world until we’re old and dead.
-Rafe to Janie
Rafe
I knew a few things.
One, I knew why I was where I was.
Two, I knew that Angelina Jolie, I mean my fake kind of real fiancée, Elspeth, was playing me just as much as I was playing her.
Three, I knew there was something there with Janie, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
Which happened to be why I was where I was.
I needed to talk to my sister.
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would’ve told her what was going on.
Ever since she’d let me back into her life, I hadn’t held a single thing back.
Not one single thing.
At least, I thought I hadn’t.
“I’m sure, Rafe,” my sister, Raven, promised, looking guilty as hell about something. Yet, I knew from experience that she wouldn’t tell me what that something was. If she wanted to share, she would. Obviously, she didn’t want to share, otherwise the words would’ve been out of her mouth the moment I’d walked in the door. “I don’t know anything about any girls. Nothing.”
I growled under my breath and rubbed my hand over my heart.
“You’re going to get it back,” Raven promised. “And when you do, if it was meant to be, whoever the girl is will still be waiting for you.”
My sister’s words felt like sandpaper against my soul. She may be saying all the right things, but I still couldn’t quite believe them.
“I don’t know anything that has happened in the last six months,” I said, staring pointedly at my sister’s belly.
Raven started to grin. “Four months ago, brother. And I hadn’t actually told you about this one. I was waiting for you to come see me…and you never did.”
I grunted and looked out at the parking lot.
We met for lunch—halfway between her and me—and she’d chosen the spot.
I hated Mexican food—yes, I know. I can hear your shouts of denial and dismay from here—but it was what it was.
And it wasn’t even the taste that I didn’t like.
It was the smell.
My father had once forced me to drink an entire bottle of hot sauce—one of those small jars that you get at the grocery store—because I’d wasted the food he’d bought.
And me, being young and impressionable at the time, had done it despite my monumental dislike of the sauce.
After drinking it, I’d immediately thrown up.
All over the floor and half the couch.
My father had back handed me so hard and fast that I’d landed on my back in the middle of my vomit and learned a very important lesson.
It would never do to show weakness.
Hence the reason I did what I did hours later when Elspeth showed at my door.
I took the pecan pie inside, allowed Elspeth to follow me, and choked down two pieces of the vile crap with her watching.
Once she’d gone, I’d immediately tossed the rest of the pie. Then brushed my teeth to get rid of the taste.
All the while I wondered if Janie knew I didn’t like pecans.
She probably did.
Yet, I couldn’t quite figure out why I cared.
Yet, every single time I found my mind wandering, I found it centered on her.
On what she was thinking. Or feeling. Or even doing.
Anything about her would suffice.
Which was why I’d also hacked into her computer and started watching her through her webcam installed on her laptop.
A laptop that she spent an exceptionally insane amount of time on.
There wasn’t a single instance that I’d logged in that I didn’t see her on it. Didn’t watch her every fucking move.
It was seriously starting to get to the point where I felt sick—at myself.
I was invading her privacy.
I was watching her work.
I was reading things that I shouldn’t be reading.
Yet I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t stop because there was this compulsion inside of me that was urging me to do it.