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)
But I also can’t indulge it. Because indulging in it means accepting everything that comes with being close to her. The temptation to do more than terrify her, hurt her. The temptation to hold her. To open my cracked, blackened heart and pour everything out. I’m a disease, a cancer that will eat her alive, and I can’t allow myself to do that. She’s been through enough, and even I’m not selfish enough to do that.
Despite everything, she sees me. Understands me. And like she said, it goes both ways. Maybe because of Aspen, maybe not. Maybe I don’t want to fuck up again by punishing somebody for someone else’s sins.
As far as I know, she’s all right—there aren’t any reports to the contrary, at least. Not like I’ve gone out of my way to ask anyone about her, of course. That would be too obvious. And I don’t need word getting back to her somehow that I was interested. I need to be strong. I know I can be. No matter how much it makes me feel like tearing this school down around me.
Here I am, shuffling papers. What a pathetic joke. I might as well be in a cage as I place yet another file folder in my outbox. It’s a gilded cage, comfortable and even impressive, but it keeps me locked away when all I want is to break free and be who I was before.
I didn’t like that man, but at least he knew who he was.
There’s a knock on the door. My head snaps up, and my heart begins to race. Like Pavlov’s fucking dog, salivating on cue. I disgust myself.
I stare at the door, wishing I could see through it. If it’s Delilah, I’d rather avoid answering. I’ve been so strong all week. A single glance at her and it will have all been for nothing.
You stupid prick. How many students are in this place? She’s one of many. Right, not counting staff on top of that. I’m going to lose my mind before much longer.
“Lucas?” Another knock. This time, I stand and cross the room, recognizing the voice of an annoyed student.
Quinton is waiting for me, arms folded.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, glad for another distraction. Even if I’m not in what anyone would consider a conversational mood, I’m glad to see him. I’d like to know how my daughter is doing at the very least. She hasn’t gone out of her way to visit me, but we didn’t leave things on good terms. I still don’t know how to deal with her deception.
“Can I come in?” He glances over his shoulder and out the open door to the hall. Now I see his apprehension for what it is.
I open the door wider, inviting him in without a word. My fighting experience taught me the ability to read body language. Everything about him is tense, nervous, and jumpy. The way he flexes his fingers, his gaze darting around without lingering on any one spot for too long.
Obviously, there’s only one question on my mind. “Is it Aspen? Is something wrong?”
“No, she’s fine. She’s in the library with Brittney, doing whatever they do there.” He waves a dismissive hand, though the fond smile he tries to hide tells me I don’t have anything to worry about. He only pretends to be dismissive of how she chooses to spend her time. It’s probably more habit than anything else by now, mirroring what would surely be his father’s attitude in the same situation.
As it turns out, Xander is the reason Quinton paid a visit.
“I can’t fucking do it. I don’t want anything to do with this whole situation.”
Rather than jump to take the bait, I play it cool. Knowing Xander, this could be a means of testing my position. “What situation?” I ask, returning to my chair and watching as he paces in tight circles.
He rolls his eyes at me before scoffing loudly. “You know what I’m talking about. Let’s cut the bullshit, okay?”
“Careful, now,” I warn. “We might have my daughter in common, but I’m not somebody you want as an enemy.”
“I know. But I mean it. We’re past that point. I know he called you. I know he told you what he wants to do. He wants her gone. Out of here, out of our lives, out of everything.”
This doesn’t come as a surprise—I knew from the beginning he wasn’t making an idle threat. Men like him never do. That doesn’t mean I’m happy to be proven right. “And how does he plan to do that?”
“I still don’t know.” I lower my brow, staring at him. “I don’t. I swear. You know how it is. He wouldn’t tell me until the last minute. He doesn’t want me spilling to anybody and fucking with his plans.”