Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Go. I need to. I am marrying her mother.
“You can call me Jett from now on.” I step back, knowing those were the words she needed to hear. She doesn’t look at me, just nods, then brushes past me.
“I’m going to swim, Jett. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Her voice is almost thick with held-back tears.
I fight the temptation to reach for her.
Tell her the truth.
“Raven?” She stops but doesn’t turn.
“Make sure you lock your bedroom door tonight.” Her back straightens. She reaches to pin her hair up again, and the door shuts behind her.
And I’m alone, with only her scent.
RAVEN
Turns out I didn’t need to lock my door. He hasn’t tried it once. It’s been three nights and nothing. Monday came and went. I didn’t go to court with him.
Maria did show up though. Apparently, her car took longer to fix than expected. She seems to be my personal jailer slash spy who reports daily to my mother. Or maybe it’s Jett. I don’t even care. I’ve got nothing to hide. Two emotions consume me: emptiness and rage. They alter depending on the time of day.
I’ve read three books, sunbathed every day, and if I don’t get out of this house, I might go mad.
“Maria? How would you like to go to the beach? Maybe we could have a late lunch-early dinner on the boardwalk? Buy some cheap, completely unnecessary stuff? What do you think?” I smile, but I know she’s on to me.
“What beach?” Her voice holds a note of caution.
“I don’t care, just away from here.” I close my eyes, trying to gather some patience. This is hardly Maria’s fault.
“Sorry, I’m used to being more active.” I puff out some air, and my mind goes to Jett. He can go all night.
“Why don’t you use Mr. Powers’s gym? Or maybe I get you a massage—”
“No,” I almost scream. Jesus, can you imagine? The pool house? I sit at the end of my bed to think.
“I have to go out. I really don’t care where we go.”
Again, she frowns and looks at her watch. “When is Ms. Cher coming back?”
“Two-and-a-half weeks. Who else do I know who’d go out with me besides Brody?”
Looking at Maria, I want to burst into tears. When did I lose touch with my high school friends?
“I don’t know. But Mr. Powers told Ms. Rachel to leave you alone. Why would he say this?” With her wise brown eyes, she looks at me as though she can discover everything she missed this past week.
“So I take it you don’t want to go to the beach?” I grumble, opening the balcony doors. The blast of hot air promptly makes me slam them shut.
“My knee is acting up, and that sand…”
“Never mind. You shouldn’t be babysitting me. I’m hardly a child.” I sigh, aggravated.
Asshole.
What an idiot I was. Because this stings, and I’m mad at myself for even having a glimmer of hope. I guess I thought he was better than what he is. That a man of his intelligence would see through my mom and acknowledge she’s a terrible person.
And then what? We’d ride away into the sunset? My ass.
Thankfully, I’ve only had to see my mom once. She ignored me; I ignored her back.
And Jett…
I can’t think about him. Otherwise, I’ll start crying. Screw that. He doesn’t get my tears. He gets nothing.
“Can I have some privacy, Maria?” I sit on the end of my bed. It’s time I bite the bullet and call Cher—I need her. I was waiting, in case Jett… Well, it doesn’t matter. He didn’t. So I can safely tell her everything.
I look over at Maria who hasn’t moved. Instead, she stands there, watching me and frowning. I grab my phone.
“Maria? Please.” I hold up my phone.
Narrowing her eyes, she walks toward my door. “I’ll be downstairs,” she grumbles. Instead of being comforting, it sounds like a threat. I know she’s trying to protect me from my mom and Jett, but it’s too late for that.
I smile at her as she shuts my door.
I have to get out of here.
I despise not having my own money. I mean, I have my American Express card, but my parents take turns paying it off every month.
Maybe I should look for a job? Although, who’s gonna hire me without a car? And I’m only here for another month. I’d have to have Maria chauffeur me around.
“God.” I groan, flopping back on the bed, instantly seeing his face. Bolting up, I push on Cher’s number. I’ve been pretending I lost my phone charger. That’s why I’ve ignored her calls and texts.
Taking a breath, I wait, listening to the funky overseas ringtone, my mind wandering.
Is he fucking my mom?
“Of course he is, stupid,” I grumble. I hate him.
“Of course who is? And it’s about fucking time. Ciao, bella,” Cher’s voice blasts into my ear. Without a doubt, she has the worst Italian accent, but she doesn’t care.