Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Eason feels more like a crash course. One day he enters my life. The next day we’re sharing personal secrets that we don’t tell anyone else.
It’s the default setting. That’s how I see it because I’m kind of logical like that.
But he’s kind of a romantic, isn’t he? Because he says it’s fate.
I’m not sure I believe it’s fate, but I’m willing to take another look at that. There’s nothing wrong with a new perspective. Eason is smart, worldly, and pays more attention to details when most of the time I’m just lost in my head trying to figure out the big picture.
He’s definitely been paying more attention to me than I have to him. He’s able to see through my facade, and even though I usually hate it when other people try to peel back my layers, I like the way Eason does it. Probably because he’s not looking for a secret. He’s not looking for the truth, either. Not really. I think he’s looking for understanding. I think he wants to compare our experiences. I think he’s trying to make sense of himself, not me.
He comes back into the room, trying to be quiet as he walks around to the other side of the bed and sets his phone down on the nightstand.
“I’m awake.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“Davis. Macks, the Ring reporter? She called him again.”
“What did he tell her?”
“He didn’t answer the phone. That’s why he called me. He wanted to know if he should call her back and let her know we found ya. I told him yes.”
I let out a long sigh. “You should’ve asked me first.”
“If you’re here, with me, then I owe Maart this much. He has the right to know where you are. Doesn’t mean you have to talk to him. How’s the foot feel?”
“Horrible. It’s thumping like crazy.”
“Should I pour you a few shots of vodka?”
I turn my head so I can see him, then smile. “No. The ibuprofen is just wearing off.”
He gets up, leaves the bedroom, and comes back a minute later with four little pills and a small glass of water. “Don’t drop it. You’ve got too many stitches already.”
I sit up, swallow the pills, and hand him back the glass. He sets it down on my nightstand, then comes around the bed and gets back in.
We both lie back and then turn over so we’re facing each other. He offers up a smile. “It’s better to just get it over with, Irina. Then it won’t be something you have to think about.”
“What am I gonna say to him?”
“What do ya want to say to him?”
“‘Sorry?’”
Eason shrugs. “So say that. But I would like to go on record that I don’t think you owe him an apology. He made his choice, you made your choice, and that’s the end of it. If it were me, I’d be happy to see him, but I would not apologize. You’re an adult, Irina. You’re allowed to do whatever you want and you don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything.”
“I know. It’s just… the way I left it. It’s so cringe. I was such a stupid child.”
“So? Nothing wrong with that. You’re not a stupid child now.”
“That’s a lie. You said I act like a teenager.”
He studies me for a moment. “That’s been on your mind, hasn’t it?” I nod. “It just… surprised me. How innocent you are.”
I nearly snort. “Innocent? I’m not innocent.”
“I’m not talking about the killing. I’m talking about…”
“The boyfriend thing?”
“That. But also… you’re just…” He blows out a breath. “Immune to it all. You’re very well-adjusted. I mean, for a person who grew up killing people in death fights until she was thirteen. How do you do that?”
I’m not sure what he’s asking. “How do I do what?”
“Live?”
“I’m… not sure I have a choice.”
“Of course ya do.”
I realize he’s talking about his depression. He struggles with the will to live. Like Rasha did. And I know he blames himself for his little brother’s horrible death—maybe he even blames me for that. Because I was part of it, in a way.
Maybe he still feels like that. Maybe he doesn’t. But I suddenly feel the need to set him straight just in case. “You do realize that even if Eoin wasn’t killed, it would still eventually have turned out the same way. You know that, right? They were going to hold him over your head. Probably for years. Maybe decades. There was never going to be a happy ending for Eoin.”
And because he’s smart, he understands why I’m saying this. “I don’t blame you.”
“Then you blame yourself. And the reason I asked you that question last night—”
“I heard you. I was just a boy too.”
“So…” I pause. “And I’m not being an asshole here, OK? I’m just asking a question.”