Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
I raised my brow.
She raised her own. “Lucy, I need you on this. Please. I just need to be somewhere different where I’m not flaky Polly who makes bad decisions when it comes to guys and can’t figure out what she’s doing with her life,” she said, her voice small and lacking her usual spark.
That small voice, coupled with the words and the heartbreaking vulnerability on her face, had me moving. I sat next to her on the sofa and yanked her to me, then kissed her head and reveled in the vanilla smell of the baby sister I’d missed so much.
“Okay, Lol,” I whispered. “I’ll talk to them.”
I would likely be able to talk them down. Despite them probably seething that Polly was dropping out, they loved us. Wanted us to be happy more than anything. They were good parents.
I had a pang. No matter how old you got, if you had good parents, you craved their council when things got hard. Like discovering a body, getting involved in a murder investigation and tumbling into a relationship with a man who held my heart from the moment I met him.
Polly leaned back from the embrace, her eyes light. “And I can stay with you?”
“Yes, you can stay with me,” I said.
She grinned big and wide, the little lost girl of before long forgotten now that she had her way. I didn’t doubt that it was genuine, that girl from before. But just because Polly didn’t wear a mask of indifference to shield her from the world didn’t mean she didn’t wear a mask.
Hers was just a lot more vibrant than mine.
“Thank you!” she said, throwing her arms around me and almost spilling her wine. “I promise it won’t be for long, I’ve got some friends around here who have a loft in Eagle Rock, where they might have a room available because of their current roommate not agreeing with their protest against palm oil.” She waved her hand dismissively. “And I’ve got an interview for a job at a vegan café in the same area as the loft tomorrow,” she added with a grin.
I regarded her. “So, you’ve made plans. Thought this through,” I stated. Surprise saturated my tone. Polly didn’t make plans. Or think anything through.
Yet here she was. Doing it in invariably in a Polly way but doing it still.
My little sister was growing up.
My fond thoughts were polluted with something else.
“And this guy, who may or may not have contributed to this,” I began evenly, sipping my wine. “He got a name? An address? Social security number?”
I remembered Wire’s offer of hacking into bank accounts; maybe he could commit fraud in this asshole’s name.
I practically grinned at the thought.
Polly narrowed her eyes. “Lucy,” she warned. “Not this time. Just leave it, okay?”
I was about to lie and say okay, then find an excuse to ring Laura Maye to give me the skinny on this prick. She knew everything about everything in Amber. And would be more than happy to assist me in plans to bankrupt the man who put sadness in my carefree sister’s eyes.
Rosie would have been way ahead of me. She’d have his social security number by now.
But Rosie wasn’t here.
I had to keep reminding myself that.
And figure out how to step around the broken pieces her absence created.
Because it wasn’t just men who could break things inside of you. In fact, those women, those sisters of your soul who knew you better than any man ever could—losing them was like losing a part of yourself.
I knew that. That part of me was buried with Laurie and always would be.
My thoughts and response to Polly were lost with a forceful knock on the door.
Polly jumped up quickly, grateful for the distraction. “I’ll get it,” she said sweetly.
And before I could move or stop her, she was across the room and opening the door. It was a small apartment, and she was fast when she wanted to be.
Her gasp of surprise was audible when she opened the door. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed.
“Hey, Polly,” a deep voice greeted. One that sent shivers up and down my spine. Good ones. One that wrapped around the words “delightfully rough” and “gentle” at the same time.
“Holy shit,” Polly repeated.
I stood, not ready to abandon my glass of wine for this situation so I took it with me for the short journey from the sofa to the door.
The door that Polly was standing in the middle of, still clutching her wine, staring at Keltan. Then at me. Then back at Keltan, who was now staring back at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement, looking more attractive than I remembered. And considering I’d seen him only a handful of hours before, I thought the memory should have done him justice.
It did not.