Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“You two go ahead. I’m not hungry.”
“We’ll bring you something,” Tor says.
“I said I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care. You’ve got to eat. We’ll bring you something. You want Cyrus to stay with you?”
“No. Just go eat if you’re going to.” I huff out a breath and turn in my seat, facing the window, away from them. And a few seconds later I hear them start to walk away, arguing over who should have had to stay with me anyway.
And again I’m alone with my thoughts of Chance. The way he took care of me. The way he cared enough to whisk me out of that hotel when Harold yanked my top off.
Chance is a good man. I’m sure of it.
I’m hurting over the way he lied to me, but if I’m hurting I’m pretty sure he is too, about me leaving like that. Not even a note, not even a word of goodbye. He must have returned to the house by now and found me missing. Did he worry that something had happened to me? Or did he just know that I found out the truth?
If my heart is breaking, how is his feeling?
I glance back at the service counter, the salesclerk now chatting away to another customer, his altercation with my brothers hopefully forgotten. They’re nowhere to be seen, and even if they’re coming back here with food for me, they’ll be gone a while.
Finally, I come to a decision and grab my purse, then head for the exit.
The airport on this island is tiny, but my luck must be in because there’s a taxi right outside, dropping off a man and a woman who are screaming at each other about how this is the worst vacation they’ve ever had. Before the driver can get out of there, I’m already sliding onto the back seat, fishing through my purse for cash.
“Where to, lady?”
“I’ll direct you. Just get out of here. Please.”
The cab comes to a stop outside the house, but I can already see that the shutters on the garage have been left open. It doesn’t look like Chance’s bike is here, so he’s probably gone. I’ll check inside, but then I might need to head for the hotel to find him.
I shove a few bills into the driver’s hand. “Can you wait here for me? I’ll only be a few minutes, then I might need you to take me somewhere else if that’s okay?”
“Sure thing, lady,” he says, already grinning. I guess I paid him too much, but I’m grateful for his silence during the drive, and I’m pretty sure he’ll wait here the rest of the day if I don’t come back out.
A few minutes later, my mouth is agape as I stare at the destruction inside the house.
It’s like a hurricane blew through here while I was gone. Everything is in disarray. Furniture needs righting, some of it needs fixing. I have to mind where I tread to avoid broken glass and splintered wood. There are paintings lying on the floor with boot-sized holes right through the center of them.
Chance did this.
A chill runs up my spine. I’ve never seen this kind of violence before. If he was mad enough to do this, what would he have done to me if he was still here right now?
He was mad because you weren’t here, a little voice inside my head says with interest. All this shows is how broken he was when you were gone. If he was here, he’d make you regret leaving him, and it would be the best moment of your life.
I shake my head.
No.
I don’t need this kind of chaos in my life. This disorder. I can’t trust him. He’s lied to me and now this? No. No no no.
Turning on my heel, I head back for the door, but then pause. There’s a pad of paper and a pencil, miraculously untouched by the devastation around it, balanced precariously on the edge of a table that’s still upright.
I don’t want any regrets.
I pick up the pad, and write out a quick note. Sorry things didn’t work out between us. I hope you have a good life. That kind of thing. Make a clean break of it. Sign my name at the bottom.
Then I pause.
And add: Don’t try to find me.
Chapter Twelve
Sophia
Tor and Cyrus drop me off at home, bitching at me because I still haven’t eaten anything, then get back in the car and head out.
They weren’t happy about leaving me, especially after we almost missed our flight because of my decision to go AWOL. They tried to persuade me to spend the evening with them, but I’ve told them I’m fine.
And right now, all I need is to be alone.
My house feels cold and empty, and I wrap my arms around my body as I head in through the door. Home. Is it though, really? What makes this a home to me? Sure, it’s the place I come to sleep, but without someone to share it with…without him…it’s just a building where I keep my stuff.