Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
The guy sneers, baring his teeth. “Pip? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he jeers, looking toward me. “Fitting. Fucking pipsqueak.”
“Cut the shit.”
“Or what?” Ace puffs out his chest, trying to look tough, but failing in comparison to the dark-haired god.
“Or I’ll kick your ass. It’s as simple as that.”
“Careful,” Asshat tsks. “Start a fight again, and the cops will come. Doubt your fancy school will keep you on, let alone let you skate…”
The threat hangs in the air. I look back and forth between the two, wondering what that’s all about. Finally, Slate steps forward, anyway. The space between the two is almost gone, and the bully’s back hits the tree.
“If you ever so much as touch her, I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll kick your fucking ass. Pippa is off limits.” Slate’s hand wraps around the guy’s throat, strangling him. “She’s under my protection. You hear me?”
Ace’s face begins to turn blue, and fear courses through me. I can’t make out the words he says, but it’s obvious Slate does, because he removes his hand, stepping away. The kid doesn’t waste time. He dashes off.
What a coward.
I have no idea what that was all about, but I do know that Slate just gave me a gift.
A place to feel safe.
And that place is him.
2
CASSIDY
Eight months later…
Where is he?
I knocked multiple times on his trailer door, but nobody answered. I even peeked into the window to check for him. Nothing. No matter where I search, I can’t find Slate, and that shouldn’t have me panicking like it does.
In the past eight months, he’s made life bearable.
He’s treated me like I was his little sister. Acted like he was my protector.
He made this awful place feel like home.
I slouch onto the worn couch, dust flying into the air and circling me. Huffing, I make a mental note to vacuum this room and pay special attention to this area. I blow out air to move the particles away. My gaze skates across the room and lands on the window.
It’s a nasty day out.
The sky is a dark shade of gray, with clouds forming in the shape of black pillows. I’m just waiting for the clouds to open and the rain to drench the earth. The only downside to that is I’ll be stuck inside, sitting among the dirt.
Something moves in the distance, but it’s probably just a branch swaying with the wind. When it moves again, I narrow my eyes and lean forward, trying to focus on whatever’s out there.
The longer I stare, the more I question whether it’s a tree or a person. The object moves again, and I get a glimpse of a profile.
Someone is walking to the lake.
It’s got to be him.
Aiden Slate is a creature of habit.
Of course. The path that leads to that place. It should have been the first place I looked.
It’s his refuge. His escape. Now that it’s summer, he’d be heading to his tree.
So, that’s where I go.
I head outside toward the tree that faces the small lake that lies right beyond the outskirts of the trailer park we live in. A small piece of land that allows us both to pretend we don’t live here with parents who don’t care about us.
In the winter, the water freezes, and I love to watch Aiden skate. In the warm months, once the frost is gone, he likes to stare out into the horizon, I like too also.
Sometimes, I like to pretend we live in another town far from here. Hell, I’d even be okay living one trailer over with the Matthews. They might be old, but at least I’d know someone cares about me.
A crack of thunder halts my steps for a second. I wait for the sky to open again, but I trudge on when no more rain falls.
I thought the weather would stop him, so I didn’t bother going down the path and out the little hole in the fence that led to where he likes to spend his days. Instead, I wasted time knocking on his door, moving into Peeping Tom territory.
It was a mistake. A big mistake.
When he’s fixated on something, it wouldn’t matter if it were raining; he’d still be in his spot.
That’s how he is. I don’t know why, and after everything he’s done for me, I don’t ask questions. He needs structure, and he needs things to go a certain way.
Those two things I learned early on about him. It was strangely comforting to know that one thing will remain the same in a world full of constant changes.
Aiden is my North Star.
Which is how I know the shadow in the distance is him.
As I continue my trek, I’m hit by the smell of rain that lingers in the air. The ground is still damp from the earlier downpour, and the pungent stink of earthworms is harsh. I don’t let it stop me.