Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Even though the podunk town the detective lives in doesn’t have a house in sight, we still keep our faces covered as Carter and I climb into the unmarked van.
It’s a fair bit away and all the while my mind races. This isn’t tit for tat. This isn’t skirting around the law and lining pockets. This is war with only one side living at the end.
In my periphery, an orange light brightens and catches my attention.
Jase lights a firecracker and tosses it through the open window in what was once Mauer’s living room before running to the open door of the van.
He slides it shut as Carter pulls the car away. The door thuds, the gravel crunches beneath the tires and in the rearview mirror, the fire lights up the window, the flame immediately tall and bright.
Before I can exhale, the house explodes with fire.
BRAELYNN
Emotions are bullshit. I wish I couldn’t feel them. Especially when I’m alone.
I almost want to lie down and hide in the covers for the rest of the day, but that won’t solve anything. With Declan gone, there’s not much more I can learn. That doesn’t mean I have to sit here feeling like shit for hours.
I can face the day and feel like shit, too. It’s not the first time I’ve had to and I remind myself that I’ve certainly felt lower. Progress is a silver lining I suppose.
I get up and make the bed. It’s small, but it’s something I can actually accomplish. I take my time with it since I don’t know when Declan will be back.
Then I go into the bathroom. No need to rush this part, either. I take a shower, letting the hot water run over my muscles. I don’t think I’m sore from my short stint in the interrogation room at the jail. I don’t think it was the sex, either. I think it’s stress, which is the worst kind of soreness. The hot spray washes away the filth and every negative thought.
I work at it anyway. I get dressed and let my hair dry while I scroll through my phone. Careful not to comment on a single thing. I only watch for entertainment although I hardly feel a thing. It’s more of a distraction and with it, I scroll and scroll, thankful that my mind is not left to my own thoughts. That’s how I end up spending most of the day. It’s easy enough to click from one thing to the next. All the while, I listen for Declan. I’m all too aware that I’m simply biding my time until he comes back and the time is ticking by slowly.
The phone can’t keep my attention forever. Nervousness builds in my stomach as I approach the bedroom door. I’m afraid I’ll turn the handle and it’ll be locked, though I know it won’t be. He wouldn’t do that to me.
I count to three in my head. On three, I turn the doorknob and throw the door open.
The hallway outside is empty. There’s no guard waiting for me when I get to the end of it and open the door to the foyer. None of Declan’s brothers are waiting there.
There’s nothing but emptiness.
I wish he’d given me some idea of how long this was going to take. Then again, if he had, I’d be counting the minutes and worrying more if he was late.
My stomach growls loudly. I’ve been ignoring my hunger most of the day. That was a mistake. Now I’m starving and worried and emotional over what Declan said this morning. I force my feet to move and take me to the kitchen.
I stride into the kitchen with my head held high, remembering that he said he loves me. If any of his family is there, I hope I look more confident than I feel. I know I don’t really belong here. Everything is too uncertain. It would only set me up for failure if I got used to being here, and thought of this as…
Well, anything. It’s not my home. This place belongs to Declan and his brothers. To hear Declan tell it, he wants me to belong to him. That sends my thoughts right back to the memory of him getting dressed this morning and the look in his eyes when he spoke to me.
“I want you to marry me.” That one statement is the only thing I’m holding onto right now.
The saddest part of it is that I don’t know if he really meant it. He looked like he did. He sounded like he did. But he’s kept things from me before and lied to me before.
Hell, for all I know, it could be another test. There must be more to it. I don’t know what to think of any of this, really, and I can’t turn off the worries. I wish I could be one of those people who just puts things out of their mind. I open the refrigerator and feel a cool breeze in my face. There are a few things inside, like leftover takeout and a pasta dish in Tupperware, but none of it looks appealing at the moment. Honestly, I don’t know how I could possibly eat, just that I have to because my stomach hurts.