Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
‘Noooooo!’ I roar, turning and stalking out, smashing the door against the wall as I charge through it. I run down the stairs and through the kitchen to the back door onto the courtyard. The gate onto the rear alleyway is swinging back and forth. ‘God damn you, Hannah.’ I race into the alleyway, looking up and down. There’s no sign of her. ‘Fucking hell.’ I take a left and sprint to the end, onto the country road that leads out of town. I nearly cough my heart up when I see her in the distance, running toward a taxi. ‘Hannah!’ I yell, sprinting after her.
She looks back, but doesn’t stop, struggling forward with her duffel bag. Her rejection is like a knife through my fucking heart.
‘Don’t you get in the fucking taxi, Hannah!’ I sound possessed, but I’m completely out of control, being fueled by panic, hurt, anger. Something’s happened. Something to make her run. Fuck, what?
She reaches the taxi and tosses her bag in, jumping in behind it. ‘Hannah, I know!’ I yell as the door slams shut. The driver pulls away quickly, driving fast, and even I realize I can’t chase him down.
He has too much of a head start already. I’m fit, but I’m not a fucking cheetah. My pace breaks down as I watch the cab get smaller, until I’m standing in the middle of the road, a broken man, completely and utterly fucking destroyed. ‘I know everything,’ I wheeze, my head dropping back and looking to the heavens. ‘I fucking know!’ I slam my hands onto my head as I watch the woman I love run away from me.
Chapter 28
HANNAH
My face is stinging as I’m driven through the countryside, my tears relentless, my heart the heaviest it’s ever been. Just get away. Run. It’s my natural instinct, and I’m unable to stop it. I wish I could stop and face my fear. I wish I could tackle it head-on. But the truth is, I don’t just fear for myself now. I fear for Ryan, too. I know what Jarrad is capable of. I can’t put Ryan in the firing line. And I can’t ruin his illusion. I’ll be gone, but at least he’ll remember me as I want to be remembered. Smiling. Happy. His Hannah.
I cover my face with my hands, my body jolting painfully from my racking sobs, my mind taking me back to places I thought I’d long escaped. To the times Jarrad played with my sanity. Made me feel stupid. Took a sick pleasure out of watching me tremble, when I was wondering whether he was going to punch me or kiss me. In the end, everything was a game to Jarrad. He played games in business. He played games with me. It made him feel more powerful to control people’s fear. To control their lives. To know everything good that happened to someone was because of him. And he had the power to take it away.
He’s here. And he’s playing with me all over again.
‘Whoa!’ the taxi driver cries, slamming his brakes on and sending me flying forward in my seat. ‘Watch it, arsehole!’
My heart twists in my chest, my fear rocketing. I look out the windscreen just as a truck swerves in front of us and slams on its brakes, tyres screeching.
Ryan’s truck.
He gets out, slams the door shut with force, and paces toward the cab, his face cut with anger.
I scramble to get out, to keep him from coming closer and making this harder than it needs to be. ‘Stop!’ I yell.
He doesn’t, he just keeps marching toward me. ‘You’re not doing this to me, Hannah.’
‘I have no choice,’ I sob, reversing my steps as he keeps coming forward.
‘You do!’ he yells, reaching me and grabbing the tops of my arms, shaking me as my tears pour. ‘You do have a fucking choice because I’m giving you one!’
He doesn’t understand. I’ve always wanted to shield him from my dirty past. ‘I can’t,’ I murmur as I stare into his eyes, trying to disregard all the love I see in them. Unfathomable amounts. All for me.
‘Then tell me why you’re leaving. At least give me that before you disappear. Because if the reason is more powerful than how much I love you, then I want to fucking know what it is.’
Shame eats at me from the inside out. Is my fear more powerful than his love? I glance around the countryside, seeing nothing for miles. Am I incapable of stopping myself from completely crumbling each time something reminds me of my past? I saw a truck and feared the worst, started building scary scenarios. I had some flowers delivered by a client and read past the blank card. Both triggered something in me, something I couldn’t ignore, but is that good enough reason for me to spiral into meltdown? Is that a good enough reason for me to run away from a man who loves me? Is my paranoia out of control?