Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I make it to her car, press the unlock button on the key fob, open the door, and hit the control on the side of the driver’s seat until it’s all the way back. I’ve done this a time before. The last time, I had my knees to my chest while Tyra was laughing her ass off at my expense, and me joining her. There are a shit ton of good memories; my only hope is that the good outweighs the bad. I start her car, shaking my head. Some things never change. Her gas light is on, as well as the tire pressure light, and fuck if her car isn’t due for an oil change, too. I make my way out of the parking garage, realizing I forgot my sunglasses. The Vegas sun is brutal, and Tyra’s windows aren’t tinted. Damn shame. Whenever I get her back to us, that’s one of the things I’ll make a priority—getting her oil changed regularly, making sure there’s plenty of gas in her car, detailing the car when it clearly needs it. I get it; she’s a single mom, has our son more than she ever should have, another thing I’ll be taking care of. I owe a massive apology to Von, and I’ll be doing that this week, too. Flipping the visor down while waiting at a light, I get the surprise of my life. There, where one would least expect it, is a glimpse into the woman I shut out, a picture of the three of us, the last one we took together. Von is on my shoulders looking at the camera, my gaze slanted downwards, eyes locked on Tyra’s as she looks up at me, the cannons in the background, the two of us not giving a single fuck about what’s going on around us. The only thing that mattered was us, and it’s time I get us back to that, starting now.
FIFTEEN
Tyra
I didn’t want to leave Mace’s place. The scent of him surrounding me, the calmness his presence seems to bring, it’s an enigma, really. I should be running fast and free away from him, except I’m not. Once he left, I was alone in his empty apartment, doing what any other woman would do—snooping. I went through drawers, closets, and even looked under his bed. I’m not even sure what I was looking for, but once I was done, there was no time like the present to get home to clean, which is what I did, well, after stealing a cotton shirt and a pair of sweatpants, along with socks. Doing the walk of shame in my dress would be awkward at best; put pairing the now stolen outfit with heels, that’s a hard no.
Thankfully, no one was out and about in the apartment complex to see me wearing Mace’s clothing, not that they know a whole lot about me. When we moved in, I was just another tenant, a single mom getting back on her feet, and I kept things quiet. It was nobody’s business where I came from and the background it entailed. I unlock my door. The emptiness and quietness have me ready to turn around and march right back to Mace’s place, not that his apartment isn’t just the same, but at least there I’m surrounded by his things, albeit very little of it seeing as how it’s so sparse. Truth be told, I’d probably hide away beneath the comforter and sheets, allowing his scent to surround me and fall into a deep sleep where there’s not a single freaking worry.
“Jesus, you need mental help or maybe a therapist, stat.” I dump my keys into the bowl, keeping my phone in my hand because there’s only one person I know who will be available to talk my crazy ass down from the roller-coaster ride I’m currently on. One I might add that I don’t want to get off, and it’s not from the delicious soreness between my legs either. Mace is, well, Mace, the good and the bad, and I think a piece of me knows I’ll always love him no matter what.
Before I call Celeste, though, I seriously need to pick up the house. It’s not that the place is filthy; it’s just not picked up. The floors are a few days past the cleaning stage, laundry needs to be done, the fridge needs to be cleaned out, and the dishes definitely need to be off-loaded out of the dishwasher. My little stinker Von conveniently forgot to pick up his toys and help with a few other things around the house, mainly his dirty clothes, shoes, and then his bathroom. God, that boy is hell on wheels when it comes to brushing his teeth. Toothpaste spatter covers the mirror from top to bottom. He’s supposed to wipe his mess down when he’s done, but clearly, we’re all slacking.