Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
What it would be like to kiss that mouth.
I thought about what it would be like…for a moment.
And then I blinked long and hard, clearing my throat.
He was good. I’d admit that. No wonder he got as much ass as he got, because if all anyone wanted was sex, Damon Torrance was gifted at manipulating someone’s mind. Putting the right glasses over someone’s eyes to make them see the world how he wanted them to see it.
God help the woman who ever fell in love with him.
I was tempted. I was tired of myself, and it was alluring—the prospect of not being me for a night.
But Will liked Em. I’d rather live in that memory of the movie theater forever than ever make another one with anyone else.
I pushed Damon away. “And you call yourself his friend.”
He stood there, faltering for a moment, but then he chuckled, recovering. “His best friend,” he pointed out. “Maybe he sent me to test you.”
I rolled my eyes, wrapping my towel around me and shutting off the water.
“Or maybe not,” he said, and I looked over to see his eyes falling down my body slowly. “You would’ve liked it, you know? I think I might’ve liked it, actually. It certainly wouldn’t have been a chore.”
Asshole.
“Get out,” I said.
He nodded, turning around. “Well, I tried.” And then he looked back at me over his shoulder. “Has Will seen the bruises?”
I tensed.
“Be prepared for what’s going to happen when he does,” he warned. “And what can happen to him if he goes up against a cop.”
He walked out, and I stood there, my shoulders slowly slumping with the weight of his words.
Will could never see the bruises.
• • •
The moon hung low, casting the only light into the kitchen as I unloaded the dishwasher. I stacked the glasses and sorted the silverware, refusing to look at the clock that chimed on the wall, the pendulum inside ticking away the seconds.
“You should get to bed,” a voice said.
I faltered, hearing Martin behind me.
He approached my side and reached down, picking up a couple of plates out of the washer and handing them to me.
I took them, bracing myself. “I will after this,” I murmured. “Promise.”
I turned and put the plates in the cabinet, waiting for his temper. Always waiting.
“Your grades are looking good,” he told me instead. “And the gazebo is coming along. People compliment me on it.”
He loaded the dirty bowl and fork into the dishwasher, and I rinsed out the sink and wiped off the counters.
“You still have a year to start applying, but I’ll try to help with anywhere you want to go to college,” he said. “Okay?”
I blinked away the sudden burn in my eyes, nodding. These moods were harder to take sometimes than the violence.
I wiped down the stove, setting the spoon rest back in place and waiting for him to leave.
But then, I felt his fingers brush my hair, and I stopped, standing there but still not looking at him.
“I’m sorry, you know?” he choked out, and I could hear the tears in his throat.
I locked my jaw, trying to keep it together.
“I do love you, Emmy.” He paused. “That’s why I want you to go. You’ll be the one thing in this family that’s not a fucking failure.”
I closed my eyes.
Please, just go. Please.
“It just builds up,” he explained at my back, “all day, every day, until I can’t see straight, and I’m confused and blinded and ready to jump out of my skin. It’s like I can’t stop it.”
And when he comes home, he takes it out on me, because I won’t tell and I won’t run.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing when I do it,” he mumbled. “I just can’t stop.”
A tear fell down my cheek, but I didn’t make any noise.
“You know this isn’t me,” he said. “Right?”
I nodded, finishing the stove.
“Remember when I used to let you ride in the front seat?” he said, laughing a little. “Even though Mom said you were too little, so I’d wait until we got out of the driveway, and then I’d let you crawl up front?”
I forced a laugh. “Yeah.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “As long as I promised not to tell Mom you were running a casino night in the basement while they were in Philadelphia that time.”
He chuckled. “Is it strange that someone who loved breaking the rules became a police officer?”
“No,” I told him. “They make the best cops. They know all the tricks.”
He grinned. “True.”
And what better place for a criminal to hide?
I didn’t say that out loud, though.
“I got you something today.”
He turned and dried off his hands, walking to the table where a brown bag sat. Reaching in, he pulled out a large, hardcover book and came over, handing it to me.