Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Wylder was alive.
And he was married.
When we reached the front of the building, I let him guide me to his favorite pissing spot, actually his favorite tree. I couldn’t blame him for having a favorite tree. I always had one in school.
Jericho marked the tree and ran—top speed run in the opposite direction down the sidewalk.
“Jericho!” I yelled, turning in that direction, shocked that the dog who never needed a leash just bolted.
My heart couldn’t take anymore. Yet there he was, hunched down, receiving kisses from Jericho. A long-awaited reunion. Breaking my heart wasn’t enough. He had to come for his dog, stepping on that barely beating organ behind my ribs and grinding it into dust, like a black boot snuffing out a cigarette on the concrete.
Slade slowly stood and walked toward me with Jericho right at his side, as if he never left. As if he never died. He no longer wore a black suit. Instead, he wore jeans and a white tee, looking like the man I loved years earlier.
Six feet apart, we stood idle, a standoff to see who would speak first. I gritted my teeth and willed my emotions to stay in check. As usual, he won. I had to say something before I exploded.
“He’s not yours. He’s mine now. You died. You abandoned him. And I know a pretty good fucking attorney if you try to fight me on this.” Anger wrapped around every word like barbed wire. I felt the words cut from my throat, and I hoped he felt them just as brutally.
“He’s yours. Always.”
Fuck you …
I didn’t want him to be nice. I didn’t want him to be the version of him I fell in love with at the beach in the back of a sprinter van.
But he was. And I hated—yes hated—him for it.
Swallowing hard, I shifted my attention to Jericho. “Let’s go.”
When I turned, that boot stomped on my heart again as he said to Jericho, “Go.”
The loyal German shepherd wanted to stay with his master, but Slade was giving him to me. I hated that too. Jericho became this consolation prize.
You can’t have me, but here’s my dog.
Once I recovered from tripping over my emotions, I continued to the door of my apartment building. Jericho followed, but so did Slade.
“Can we talk?”
I grunted a laugh, taking fast strides toward the elevator. “We have nothing left to say. I said it all, the day you died.” My finger incessantly pushed the button for the doors to open. When they did, I stepped inside and waved my card in front of the reader.
“Well, I was choking on my own blood, so I didn’t get a chance to say everything I had to say.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I focused on the digital numbers instead of him. When the doors opened, I spewed my parting words while exiting it. “You’ve had five years. You’ve exceeded the statute of limitations on that.”
I opened my door, and he pressed his hand to it, holding it open for Jericho and himself.
“I need you to leave. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Keeping my back to him, I marched to the kitchen counter and opened my cheap bottle of wine with a knife since I didn’t have a corkscrew.
“You don’t drink,” he said, standing in the middle of my living room, sucking up all the oxygen.
I poured a generous glass into an eight-ounce water glass. “You haven’t seen me in five years. You don’t know anything. I drink. I fuck other people. I pay for vet bills and dog food. And I’m a lot stronger than the girl you knew. So I suggest you get the hell out before I make you bleed.”
He pressed his lips together, his gaze following Jericho as he paced the space by his food bowl. “I know you’re stronger. I know you pay for vet bills and food. I know that you fuck other people. And I also know that you don’t drink.”
I took three big gulps and failed my attempt to not react with a sour face. Wine tasted like shit, or at least the bottle I purchased was nothing more than over-priced piss. “There … see that. Me drinking. Now you know. You can leave now.”
“I’m proud of you.”
I stared at him with no response. His pride was something I no longer needed.
“Morten and Brattebo …” He whistled. “That’s impressive, Liv. I have no doubt Knight will one day be up on that wall.”
I returned a series of blinks. That was it. That was all I had for him. “You need to leave.”
He narrowed his eyes a bit. “Why?”
“Because I’m not taking the bait. I’m not going to ask you how you lived…” my anger built as my volume escalated “… where the fuck you’ve been for five years…” my fists clenched as the words came out through gritted teeth “…who the hell is Alex, and how could you abandon Jericho!” I pitched my glass of wine at him.