Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Jet’s a smart guy. It’s not impossible that was so no one would hear me scream if I reacted poorly.
I feel crazy even thinking that, but how can I not when he’s standing here telling me he killed two people?
Clearly, there is a lot I don’t know about Jet Granville.
Chills dance down my spine. I force myself to meet his gaze, fearful of what I might see there.
He doesn’t look any different, really. If he looks scary, it’s only because I’m noticing things I haven’t before. But overall, he looks pleasant, like a proud puppy who has just brought a dead cat to its owner and is awaiting appreciative pets and to be told what a good boy he is for bringing such a nice gift.
I swallow.
I force my lips up to form a ghost of a smile. “You… did this? For me?”
He nods. “I went more traditional with her. She was going through a lot of heroin after Larry died, so when I gave her a hot shot, it just looked like a run-of-the-mill OD.”
I can picture that. Mom didn’t always do hard drugs, but she often turned to them after a breakup.
When I was 11, I came home from school one day and found her on the couch. She should have been at work so I was confused at first, but when I walked over to her, she was unresponsive. I had to call 911, and I was scared to death waiting for them to get there, then watching them load her on a stretcher and race her out to an ambulance.
But you can only be scared for people so many times before the intensity of that feeling drops off and resentment begins to grow in its place.
Any feelings I had for my mother crumbled the night she not only let her sick, disgusting boyfriend touch me, but fucking encouraged it.
There are no loving, familial feelings left inside me for that woman, but still, to know she’s dead… to know she’s dead because someone killed her for me is fucking wild.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I tell him honestly.
“You said you had no desire to repair your relationship,” he reminds me.
“No… I didn’t.”
“That’s why I didn’t want you to report what happened. I didn’t want anyone knowing we had motives. I hadn’t determined how I would do it yet. I guess I assumed murder would be harder than it is, but it really wasn’t a big deal. The hunting part was fun.”
“Okay. Um… Jet, you’re not supposed to… murder people,” I say feeling so awkward I could die.
He shrugs. “You’re not supposed to betray your own daughter or rape people, either.”
“That’s true. But…”
“Look, I’m not an idiot, Kennedy. I know murder is considered wrong.”
“Yes.”
“But so are a lot of other things people do, and in this case, I was comfortable being judge, jury, and executioner. At least I made sure justice was served.”
I don’t know how to process everything he’s saying and also find my way to what I’m supposed to say in response.
Sure, there have been dark moments when I wished them both dead, but I would have never acted on it.
I think it’s within normal range to have thoughts like that in dark moments, but it’s decidedly not normal to act on them.
I don’t know what the responsible thing to do here is. We all know I’m not really a stepmother to the boys. I’m Jet’s age, and Jonathan is older than I am. I’m part of the family, but not in a maternal capacity. From Jet’s perspective, I probably look like the family fuck doll at this point—not that he’s ever respected me any less for it.
Milo is the only parent in our household, so maybe it’s not up to me to lecture Jet for what he’s done, but… I feel like I should say something.
I swallow, then clear my throat. I look down at the beach, back up at Jet, then around at the remote area of the beach he brought us to.
Still not completely sure I’m safe if I don’t accept this “gift” of his, and don’t really want to put my neck on the line for two creeps.
I look back at Jet. “This isn’t something you plan to make a habit of, right?”
He shakes his head.
I’m still lost, but trying to find my way. “Okay. So, that’s good. While you obviously got away with it this time, there’s no guarantee you always would, and… I think we should discuss the… moral ramifications of taking lives at some point, but tonight probably isn’t that night.”
He cracks a roguish smile, the first one I can ever remember seeing on him that resembles one of his dad’s or brother’s. “No, obviously not.”
“My wedding night and all.”
He nods again, shoving his hands into his pockets. So casual.