Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Everything will be fine.
Or, at least, that was what I thought at the time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sway
It wasn’t a bad place.
I mean, I couldn’t imagine living so out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles and miles. But I guess I could appreciate what might make a man choose to live that way. Fending for himself. Not relying on stores or anyone else to provide.
“Can I sit here, guys?” I asked the dogs as they followed me up on the porch, seeming to enjoy the shade, the break from the unyielding sunlight overhead. “Kinda hot to leave you all out here, don’t you think?” I asked as I sat in the chair, rocking, trying not to worry too much about Murphy as she disappeared into the distance.
I mean, she was right.
She’d done this a million times before.
There was no reason to be worried about her.
Still, there was no denying it.
It was probably the most surprising thing about getting serious about her. How much I worried. I couldn’t claim to be someone who felt that way often. Sure, in a dire situation, there was that twinge.
This wasn’t a twinge, though.
It was a constant knot in my stomach, thinking about something that might happen to her, that might hurt her, that might take her away from me.
If it didn’t fucking let up, I might have to have a seat next to Coach and ask him to teach me how to meditate to calm my ass down.
It didn’t help that there was shit hanging over our heads, men who were out to get her, ones that Rook had been given the name of, and was likely working away on when he was able to while ‘at work’ at the karate place.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake the lingering unease. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one for miles and miles. If there was ever a place to relax, it was here.
I rocked for what felt like hours, but a quick look at my phone said it was just about thirty minutes. It also told me that there was no service here. Not a single bar.
“Guess your Dad doesn’t surf the web or watch TV, huh?” I asked the dogs whose ears perked up, listening to me. “The quiet is kind of deafening here,” I added, speaking my thoughts out loud to distract myself from the growing tension, a snake coiling around my chest and throat, tightening with each passing moment.
“You okay there?” I asked as the dogs’ noisy panting got worse and worse even as I reached up to wipe some sweat from my brow. “Did he leave you a bowl of water?” I asked, getting out of the chair, and walking down the length of the deck, seeing a big plastic bowl.
Bone dry.
“Fuck,” I hissed, looking at the front door.
I understood what an invasion it would be to go inside. But wouldn’t it be worse to let his dogs get heat stroke because I didn’t go get them some fresh water?
“Alright. Listen,” I said to the dogs as I picked up the bowl. “You don’t say anything, I won’t say anything, okay?” I asked, reaching for the door handle, and letting myself inside.
Murphy had been right with her description of the place.
It was very bare-bones.
Tile covered the floors, likely to keep shit cool during the hot summers. Especially since it didn’t seem like there was any air conditioning. Just a few box and oscillating fans. And, it seemed, cooling dog beds in the corners.
The walls were bare, save for an assortment of guns and knives that, I guess, served as a sort of practical decor.
There was an old brown leather couch in the center of the room near the big pot bellied stove with a flat top that I imagined was useful in the winter.
No carpet.
No drapes on the windows.
Just those darkening shades to keep the sun and heat out.
The coffee table in the living area was scuffed and one of the legs was a different color, like it had needed to be replaced at some point. The top was littered with various trinkets and shit. Some sort of rope that needed winding, several books, a dog nail trimmer, and a mug of coffee.
“Hmm,” I said, turning to the wall against the front of the house where the kitchen was set up.
It seemed like the stove in the living room wasn’t just for heating. It probably served as the only cooking surface since there was no range in the kitchen. Just a fridge, a sink, and cabinets.
I turned on the tap, filling the bowl with water as I resisted the urge to snoop.
Just barely.
And I didn’t want the guy to come home, find a stranger in his place, looking around, and lose his shit on me.
Taking the full bowl back over toward the door, I opened it, finding all three dogs waiting impatiently, so I set it right down, and stood in the doorway, figuring I would need to fill it again once they were each done.