Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Excuse me,” I say, attempting to go around him. Only he sticks his hand out before I can get away, stopping me in my tracks. He backs me up against the wall, and I glance around, wishing I would’ve stayed inside. It’s dark out here, and there are no witnesses. I can scream, but I doubt anyone will hear over the loud music.
“You know, it would be easy for me to fix the problem you created for yourself,” Sam says, his voice dripping with slime. “Make it all go away.” He runs his hand down the side of my body and I shudder in response, hating his touch on me.
Of course, he mistakes my response for liking it and smiles cockily. “What do you say, baby? Wanna convince me to remember the situation differently? I bet your warm, wet mouth can convince me of anything...”
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
I hear him before I see him, but I would recognize his deep, gruff voice anywhere. Braxton grabs Sam by the back of his suit and yanks him off me, slamming him against the wall. “Don’t ever touch her again. You hear me?”
“What the hell, man? I don’t know what your problem is, but she was coming onto me.”
“Yeah, that shit might work with the dumbasses who like to kiss your ass, but I know better, and I heard what you were saying. Now, unless you want your pretty boy face to end up all mangled and fucked up, I suggest you walk away. And if I ever hear you speak Kaylee’s name again, I’ll be coming for you. Got it?”
“What-the fuck-ever.” Sam shoves Braxton back. “The bitch is a fucking cock tease anyway. You want her? Good fucking luck.” He adjusts his lapels and stalks off, leaving Braxton and me alone.
“You okay?” Braxton asks once he’s gone.
His voice is soft, reminding me of the guy I once knew, and all I want is to run into his arms and beg him to hold me so I can inhale his comforting scent. But I lost that right six years ago, so instead, I simply nod. “Yeah, I didn’t know he was out here. I was coming to get some air.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His tone is back to being cold and distant, and I already miss the warmth from a moment ago.
“I know, but...” I clear my throat and step toward him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, well...” He shrugs and steps around me. “The only person who has the right to make your life hell is me.”
I open my mouth to say something—what, I don’t know—but before I can put the words together, Adrianne appears.
“There you are,” she says, sauntering over. She wraps her arm around Braxton and eyes me curiously. “Everything okay here?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I need a drink.” Then he glances at me. “You should go back to the hotel. You don’t belong here.” And with that, he turns his back on me and walks off without once looking back, reminding me that despite him saving me, he still hates me and probably always will.
I need to talk to you.
It’s important.
It’s about your father.
Kaylee, please call me ASAP.
I stare at the slew of texts from my aunt, knowing what she’s going to say. I’ve been waiting for this day for years. Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted this long. Your body can only take so much before it finally shuts down, after all. And my dad’s body has taken too much.
I change out of my dress and into something more comfortable and then head out of the hotel and down the Strip. I call my aunt on the way, and she confirms what I already knew. My dad is dead from liver failure. There won’t be a funeral because it would be a waste of money. It would be expensive, and nobody would go anyway. She only found out because she’s his emergency contact. The hospital called to inform her. He was found without any clothes on in an alley. Some other homeless people must’ve found him and taken his clothes. Dead people don’t need clothes after all.
“A shot of JD, please,” I tell the bartender. I’ve ended up in a trashy, hole-in-the-wall bar, but that suits me just fine. I wasn’t looking for anywhere flashy, just somewhere I could drown myself in the alcohol for a little bit.
The bartender comes back with my drink, and I down it in one go, asking for another and then another. I lose track of how many shots I’ve had, but when I see Braxton taking a seat next to me, I assume I’ve had so much I’m seeing shit.
“Another shot!” I yell to the bartender.
“You sure that’s the best way to mourn a man who lost his life to alcohol and drugs?”