Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
He glares at me for a second before softening a little. “It’s not like that. You’re underestimating me.”
“How so? It would have been pretty simple to give me a heads-up. I already know there’s a target on my back around here, but I didn’t think he’d be sending somebody to kill me.”
“But this wasn’t him.”
“Enough. I don’t want to hear it anymore.” I close my eyes, fighting the tears threatening to well up in them. I won’t give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I’m so tired of being hurt.
“Both of you, get back to the dorms. It’s late.” Lucas turns to Aspen and Q.
It’s obvious Aspen doesn’t want to listen to him any more than she wants to be near her husband, but she goes anyway after shooting me one last look. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“I will. Thank you.”
Lauren clears her throat. “I have to do a couple of things. I’ll be nearby if you need me.” She shoots daggers at Lucas before leaving the two of us alone. I really wish she wouldn’t. I have nothing to say to him now.
Actually, that’s not quite true. “I can’t believe you. How could you do this to me?”
“I meant to tell you the night I came to your room.”
“But you didn’t. And that was, what, three weeks ago? How many opportunities have you had since then? Or was this the kind of thing you could only tell me that night, and that’s all?”
His face scrunches up, and he rubs the bridge of his nose like he has a headache. Like he has any idea what a headache is right now. I’m the one lying here suffering. “You’re not making this any easier.”
“Oh, excuse me. I would hate to inconvenience you. I’m sorry you had to take time away from whatever you were doing just to come down here.”
“You know it isn’t like that.”
“I don’t know anything, do I? Here I was, thinking you actually cared about me at least a little. All these weeks, there was the chance I could be killed. And you couldn’t say a word about it. What if I died tonight? And you could have stopped it, but you didn’t?”
His mouth works like he’s trying to come up with something to say, but I know whatever it is will be a lie. “Just forget about it. Go away. I don’t want you here, and I don’t want your shitty excuses.” I turn my face away from his, even though moving my head is agony.
It’s still preferable to having to set eyes on him. The liar. The coward.
At least he takes the hint, retreating slowly. Now I can let the tears fall, and I do, allowing them to course slowly down my cheeks.
21
LUCAS
It has been a while since I felt this way. I almost forgot the way my skin crawls as the walls seemingly close in on me. With each second passing, the walls inch closer, and the air in my lungs becomes more sparse.
I hate it. I hate the feeling of drowning, suffocating slowly while the rest of the world moves on like I don’t even exist. It took me years to get over this feeling, and just when I thought I had figured it out, Delilah came along and ruined everything. I was doing great without her. Maybe I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t miserable either.
Looking over at the empty bottle of whiskey sitting on my nightstand, I quietly curse to myself. I’m out of booze, and it’s not like I can walk down to the nearest convenience store and pick up something else. I don’t even know when the next shipment is coming in. Unless it’s today, it’s not soon enough.
Briefly, I think about sending out the helicopter. But Xander is already on my case, and I’m sure I’d never hear the end of it if I used his precious school money to get me more alcohol. I would roll my eyes at him if my head wasn’t pounding already. But my killer headache makes me sit up slowly instead.
It’s not until I’m upright that I realize how bad my hangover really is. Ugh. This is literally straight from hell. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the room to stop spinning.
Putting my feet on the floor helps ground me. My equilibrium balances out, and it doesn’t feel like I’m about to fall off the earth.
But that’s only step one. This isn’t my first rodeo, as they say. I’ve been through worse than this, though this is bad enough.
I’m sure age doesn’t help things. Back in the day, I’d wake up feeling like shit, down some black coffee and a couple of aspirin—if that—and I’d be back in action.
Nowadays, the thought of the aftermath is almost enough to make me avoid drinking in the first place.