Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” he slurs out.
“You should go to bed.” Gideon's eyes wander down and back up my body, making my skin crawl. I hadn’t thought about how I was only wearing thin sleep shorts and a tee.
“We can go to bed.” A smirk pulls at his lips. I keep my shoulders back to avoid giving the impression that I'm intimidated by him. Even if I am. Gideon might be a teenager, but he’s not small.
“It’s late.”
"Actually—" He lifts his hand to check the time on his fancy Rolex watch, which likely cost more than I make in a year. He squints in order to see it clearly. “It’s early morning.” Gideon takes a step toward me. I match it by taking a step back, but I find myself pressed against the door.
“Go to bed.” I keep my tone firm. It does nothing. The next thing I know, he’s on me, pressing me hard into the door. My hands go to his chest.
“You’re not my nanny. I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Stop it.” I push, but he doesn’t budge.
“Give me a goodnight kiss first.” He lowers his face toward mine, and I do the only thing I can to stop it. I lift my knee and nail him straight in the balls. He lets out a high-pitched yelp, stumbling backward before he falls to the ground. The tool in his hand lands next to him. I snatch it off the floor.
“You cunt!” Gideon groans out.
“Stay out of her room.” I don’t wait for a response. I hurry back into Jasmine's room, flicking the lock back into place.
I lean up against the door, trying to listen to what he might be doing. My heart is racing. Fuck. I hate that little shit so much. When I feel tears burning, I close my eyes. I will not cry. A million questions flit through my mind, including if he’s going to snitch on me. I’m going to bet not. Then he’d have to explain why he was trying to sneak into Jasmine’s bedroom.
My back slides down the door. I’m not sure how long I sit there, but I see the sun start to peek through the bottom of the blinds. I might have dozed off for a second. I pull myself up from the floor and go to my own room to get dressed for the day.
When I make it back to Jasmine, she slowly wakes up. “Morning, sweetheart.” I drop a kiss on top of her head.
“You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here.” I sit down next to her. “I told you I wasn’t ever leaving.”
“I know.” Jasmine rubs her eyes. “When I asked about you dating, I didn’t think you’d go and get married.”
I let out a small laugh. “I’m not getting married tomorrow.”
“You love him, don’t you?”
“I do.” I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “But I love you too.”
“He stares at you differently than Dad does Roberta.” I'm not sure how to respond, but Jasmine goes on saying what I didn't want to. Not because it’s not true. I just didn’t want to say it to her. “It’s because he loves you.”
“He does,” I agree. Jasmine wiggles to sit up in bed. “Let’s not worry about any of that.”
“Can we go see him?” That catches me off guard, but Jasmine can be curious.
“If you want.”
“Today?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
As Jasmine wakes up and prepares for the day, I locate my phone. I see I have a bunch of missed calls and texts from West. It makes me smile. Another text pops up. This one belongs to the Wicked Witch of the West. I click it. A picture pops up. My heart sinks.
It’s a picture of Gideon and me from our incident. It’s of him pressing me up against the door. My hands are on his chest. It almost looks intimate. Another text comes in from her. The threat is clear.
Get him into that school.
Chapter Twelve
WEST
Isee them walking up my drive before they reach the porch. It’s sunny out, and I lift my hand to shade my eyes, welcoming them with a broad smile.
“Here for breakfast? I’ve got pancakes, bacon, eggs…” My litany of food stock trails off at the grim look on Vasey’s face. I bite back a “what’s wrong” and stoop down to Jasmine’s level. “Or cereal. Your pick.”
“I like pancakes,” she says.
“With blueberries inside or strawberries on top?”
“Blueberries.”
“Awesome. I love blueberry pancakes.” I ruffle the top of Jasmine’s hair and lead the two inside.
“This place is actually pretty nice,” Vasey observes as we walk down the carpeted hall to the sunny breakfast nook at the back of the house that overlooks an expansive lawn, a pool, and a stable. “I guess we got the water on our side and you have the riding trails on yours.”