Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Barely any time.
Her storage unit is at the edge of town. She called ahead, saying her ID was stolen and that she’ll show them her passport after she collects it. Add in bolt cutters for the padlock, and we don’t have any trouble getting in.
The unit is filled up mostly with rustic furniture. “From my grandpa’s house,” she tells me quietly as we head inside.
She hasn’t said much else since leaving my place. Mostly because it’s hard to hold any kind of conversation on a motorcycle. But I’m not sure she would have talked, anyway. Everything about her seems as if she’s shut down.
But I know she’s not. I know hurt and grief are roiling around in her. She’s just not letting it out.
Or trying not to let it out. Because for a long minute she just stands and looks around, her eyes bright with tears that she’s not letting fall. Every damn thing inside me aches with the need to go to her, to hold her close. But I swore I wouldn’t touch her again.
A promise that might kill me. But hurting her would be worse than dying.
As it is, I’m waiting for her to take back her agreement to marry me. She still seems to think that she truly owed me back in the cabin. But I figure when this grief eases, she’ll realize what a goddamn asshole I am and try to distance herself from me as far as she can. And maybe she’ll realize our marriage isn’t just to protect her—though it is that, too. But also because I’m a pathetic sack of shit who’ll do anything to keep her bound to me, one way or another.
And help her, even if I can’t hold her. “Do you need me to look for it?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is hoarse. “It’s just…it was hard enough when it felt like I was putting so much of my grandpa in here. But there’s so much of Matt, too. His bed and his favorite chair and his dresser over there…”
So much damn hurt that I can’t ease. “I take it that you lived with your grandpa, then?”
She nods, her tears spilling over, then chokes out a laugh before sending me a watery smile that says the joke’s on her. “My parents drowned in a boating accident when I was eight and Matt was twelve. Not just them. My grandma and aunts and uncles, too. So Grandpa took us in.”
Ah, fuck. My poor girl. “That’s what happened to me,” I tell her quietly. “But it was a car accident that killed my parents.”
Confusion creases her brow. “But I thought your mom and dad were alive? Victor threatened them.”
Yeah, he did. On top of what he did to her brother, just another reason to kill him. “I was adopted. Anna, too. And I wasn’t as old as you—I don’t remember my real parents much. My adopted parents have always been Mom and Dad to me.”
“Oh.” She wipes her cheeks. “That’s really sweet.”
“They’re pretty amazing,” I say. “Sounds like you were close to your grandpa, too?”
“Yeah. Both Matt and I were,” she whispers, but this time with more bittersweet nostalgia than painful grief. She takes a deep breath and heads toward a steel safe sitting on an old rolltop desk.
Pushy bastard that I am, I crowd in and glance through some of the other papers she pulls out and sets aside while looking for her passport, including a few leather-bound diploma covers. Her high school certificate, Matt’s.
And a college degree. “You’re a veterinarian?”
That makes her laugh a little and shake her head. “Just a vet tech. I originally intended to become a vet, but then…” She shrugs. “Grandpa got sick.”
“And you took care of him.” Don’t even need to make it a question.
“I did. Matt had just started at the FBI.” That sweet smile curves her mouth again. “His dream job. And it was easy for me to transfer to the community college here, start working as a vet tech while…” She trails off, biting her lip. “Grandpa could still work on the farm and get around. It was just better to have someone there. So I was happy to.”
“You grew up on a farm?”
“Not a big farm. Just a couple of cows, goats, chickens—and right at the edge of town, so we didn’t exactly grow up in the sticks.” Her voice thickens. “It was a lot of fun. Grandpa made us do chores, of course, but mostly we were just…free. To do whatever.”
“Like learn to steal motorcycles.”
Another laugh breaks from her. “That was Matt. Not stealing. But he had a thing for dirt bikes. So of course I ended up with one, too.”
Of course. There was no of course for me and Anna. Riding was my thing, not hers. But we also lived in a town, each had our own set of friends. Sounds like out on their farm, Maxine and her brother mostly had each other as friends. Though maybe losing their parents had something to do with that, too. Sticking together. “Is that bike stored in here?”