Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
She came from the kitchen and handed me a glass of wine. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, and we settled on the sofa, her knees touching mine as we faced each other.
“I love your space. It’s so you.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Given who your family is, I’m surprised you live here, though,” I confessed. “Even I live in a BAM building.”
She took a sip of her wine. “Trust me, my dad wasn’t happy about my choice. Neither were any of my uncles. But most of their inventory is high-rises, which I wasn’t interested in. The few older, low-rise buildings Uncle Bent has were too far away from where I wanted to be.” She paused, looking embarrassed. “I-I don’t like the subway. I need to be close to the buses and streetcars or near enough to walk.”
Given her claustrophobia, her explanation made sense. “I see.”
“I liked this place. I liked the location, the access, the fact that there was a little park across the road. Reid came in and wired up the place, Aiden made sure the locks were to his satisfaction, and I moved in. I think they thought I would change my mind, but I’ve lived here the whole time I’ve been in Toronto. I like my neighbors, I have a guest room for my parents or siblings if they come to visit, and I’m happy here.” She took another sip of wine. “It’s light and open.”
“That’s important to you. The light.” I had noticed how she always gravitated toward a window. Kept a light on by her desk.
“Yes.”
I picked up her hand, rubbing her fingers between mine. “Have you always been like this? The fear, I mean?”
She grimaced. “No.”
“Can you tell me?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Pretty personal stuff for so early in our, ah, relationship.”
I met her gaze, raising my eyebrows to match hers. “So was my cock in your mouth. I think we’re good.”
She gaped at me, then laughed. “Touché, Mr. Richards.”
“Tell me,” I encouraged. “I want to understand.”
She blew out a breath, becoming serious. “I was about six. I went to a friend’s place for a birthday party—Lana was her name. There were lots of us little girls running around. We were playing hide-and-seek inside the house, and Lana’s cousin told me she had the best place to hide. She was a couple years older than me, and I followed her out back. There was an old shed at the back of the property, and inside was a trap door in the floor where they used to store stuff.” Gracie swallowed, looking down. “She lifted the door and I got in, but instead of her joining me, she slammed it shut and ran off.”
“Jesus.”
“I couldn’t get out. Lana’s mom was busy with everyone, and it took a while before they noticed I was missing.”
I moved closer, sliding my hand up and down her arm, feeling the tension radiating from her.
“They looked for me inside, but no one thought about the shed so far from the house. Lana’s mom called my parents and the police.”
“And her cousin said nothing?”
“Not at first. She was jealous that Lana liked me better and wanted me out of the way. I don’t think she realized when she slammed the door, it jammed, and then when I didn’t show up, she got frightened and said nothing. Finally, she admitted to them we’d gone outside and where she’d left me.”
“How long were you trapped?”
She frowned, worrying her lip. “It felt like forever, although it was only a few hours, I think? I lost track of time. It was dark and damp. The smell of the decaying dirt all around me is something I’ll never forget. I was so scared—I kept calling and trying to get out.” She held up her hand, and for the first time, I noticed the scar across the palm. “I cut myself trying to escape. It never really healed.”
I captured her hand and kissed it, holding it tight to my torso. The thought of her as a child, alone, terrified, and trapped, did something to my chest. The thought of what could have happened if she hadn’t been found in time echoed in my head. It made me crazy.
Her focus became dim as she lost herself in memories. “I moved from scared to terrified, and I was crying and cold. I remember curling up on the floor, trying to get warm and wishing for my dad. He would fix it. He would find me. I knew it. Then I heard it—his voice. My dad’s voice, yelling, calling my name. Telling me he was coming. I sat up and cried for him as loud as I could, hitting the wood above me. And suddenly, the door opened, and he was there with a police officer.” She shuddered. “He lifted me out and held me so tight I could barely breathe. He was crying.” Her voice dropped. “I had never heard him cry that way.”