Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 188966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
The moment they both looked back at the TV, I dropped all pretence that I wasn’t burning up with unexplainable fear, marched through the house, grabbed the keys from their usual spot, and bolted out the door.
* * * * *
A party.
She’d lied to her parents yet again. Just like she lied about the camping trip in Daintree having parental supervision, she’d lied and said she was spending a quiet night with Zara.
Quiet?
Fuck, my poor ears were about to fall off from the noise.
No one questioned me walking through the front door and prowling through the rooms. Teenagers and young adults shared drinks, jokes, saliva, and vapes. The house reeked of booze and artificially sweet smoke, riddled with cheap perfume and sickly aftershave.
Cutting through the crowd, I scanned for the one girl I would know blindfolded. I followed that strange nudge in my gut. The constant hum of worry. The niggle of panic that I couldn’t shut up even though I had no reason to be concerned.
Just because Neri and I were together now didn’t mean she was in danger whenever we were apart. I didn’t have this sickening feeling whenever she was at school. My palms didn’t sweat and my skin didn’t itch when she went out for dinner with her friends.
So why now?
Why tonight?
Why—
“Neri.” I caught sight of her slipping through the crowd. With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed a black cardigan resting on the back of a chair, then scurried out the front door.
She didn’t hear me. Didn’t stop.
Her shoulders braced and head down, she threw the cardigan on and buttoned it tight over her dress.
Her hair looked a little tangled, and the dress she wore was one of my favourites. I always loved when she wore it. The vibrant orange set off the tan of her skin and depth of her sun-streaked hair. But it was the way the brightness bled into darkness that I loved. I liked to think it was us. She was the Australian sun, and I was the Turkish night. Blending together in seamless perfection.
My heart eased, and the fear I’d harboured faded just a little.
She’s fine.
Ignoring a girl smiling at me and side-stepping a drunk guy who almost splashed me with his beer, I followed Neri out the door and broke into a jog as she darted across the front lawn, beelining for her bike leaning against the frangipani tree in the front yard.
“Neri. Wait up.” I balled my hands, adding a burst of speed.
She didn’t stop.
I frowned as she reached for her bike.
I touched her elbow.
She jumped so fucking high, she tripped over the front wheel and tumbled into the flowerbed.
“Shit, Neri...are you okay?” I bent down to gather her up, but she scurried away from me, her eyes as wide as moons, her face drawn and white.
The fear that’d swirled in my stomach amplified. Dropping to my haunches, I whispered, “It’s me. Just me.”
Her eyes met mine.
Something filled them.
Something I’d never seen before.
A strange kind of tide, full of secrets and pain.
But then she blinked, and it was gone. Dipping her chin, her tangled hair swung around her face, cutting me off. With a quiet gasp, she dug her hands into the soil, crushing pretty flowers, not caring she got her dress filthy.
Pushing upright, she swayed and almost fell again.
I caught her.
She made a noise that clenched my heart.
A noise I’d never heard before.
A noise that sounded as if she was fucking petrified of me.
Pushing me away, she groaned, “I need too gwesh away from hereee.”
I turned stone cold.
Kafami sikeyim.
My forehead furrowed as anger filled me. “You’re drunk.”
She kept her chin down, not meeting my eyes.
Now I knew why.
Why she’d run and why she didn’t want to make eye contact.
She was pissed as a fucking sailor.
Bloody hell, Jack would kill her for this. He’d been far too lenient on her. He hadn’t set enough boundaries.
With trembling hands, I reached for her. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She cried out as I grabbed her elbows and shook her a little. “Do you have any idea what danger you could’ve been in? And you were going to bike home? Drunk? Fuck, Nerida. Anything could’ve happened. A guy could’ve kidnapped you. You could’ve fallen off and hurt yourself. You could’ve been run over, for fuck’s sake!”
She sucked in a shaky breath.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Grabbing her chin, I forced her to look at me.
Truly look at me.
And what I saw made all my fear churn thickly inside.
I’d sensed this.
As much as I didn’t understand how or why, I’d felt her needing me. I’d come for her because she’d put herself in harm’s way. All that protectiveness I felt toward her had urged me here. At least I wasn’t too late. At least I was here before she could put herself in any more danger.