Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“Maybe.” I loop Rolf’s leash around my hand and duck under the branches. “Follow me. Stay close.”
She’s more subdued as we slip under the canopy. The sunlight filtering through the trees forms a strange mosaic around us.
I let silence reign, keeping my attention on the trail, looking for those little telltale markers that say someone’s been here—a snapped twig, a single homespun thread on a bit of flaky bark.
Eventually, I can’t stand it.
“So are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Ah?” She sounds startled. I glance back to make sure she didn’t trip, but she’s just looking at me guiltily. “Oh. Right. Um…”
I stop, turning back to face her. She stumbles and pulls up short in front of me but doesn’t resist when I reach for her hands.
Rolf shifts between us, looking up at her with soft eyes.
“Talia,” I whisper. “Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me.”
“Can I?” She stares at our clasped hands, her fingers curled loosely in mine. “Xavier came on to me pretty hard today. I was thinking about you during a creative meeting and I guess I spaced, and he thought… he thought I was mooning over him or something. He grabbed my face and was leering at me—”
“He grabbed you? That fuck touched you?”
Violence flares in my blood.
My hands burn like I can already feel his throat.
It’s settled. If I ever get the chance, I’ll tear it right out.
“I kinda ran away. I almost had an asthma attack,” she continues. “That’s when I saw Eustace give him the camera. She was waiting for him, I guess, and he followed me outside. I think he was trying to explain it away and make what happened feel less creepy. I don’t know.”
Goddamn.
If we were any closer to the Arrendell mansion, I’m not sure Xavier would be alive tonight.
My hands clench tighter.
I barely stop myself before I crush her hand.
My jaw tightens until there’s an audible pop from the joint.
I have to hold still, or the rage boiling over will turn ugly and I don’t know what I might do.
Not to Talia, no. Never to her.
But the urge to leave her and storm that hill, straight to the house of horrors, is almost too strong.
She won’t quite look at me now.
Her guilt seems to intensify as the silence yawns between us.
“You’re not telling me everything,” I say tightly. “What else did he do?”
“What?” There’s a panicked flutter of her pulse against her throat as she shakes her head quickly. “Nothing!”
“Then why do you look guilty?”
“Because it’s my fault, Micah!” she hisses. “I let my guard down. I was so caught up in you, I gave him an opening—”
“No.” I drop her hands and cup my palms against her cheeks, leaning in to firmly look into her eyes. Her hair tangles over my fingers like a siren’s coils.
Her wide blue eyes lock on mine, startled.
“Listen and listen good. You are not fucking responsible for what he does. I’m not angry at you, Talia. I’m furious at him. I want to dismember that disgusting fucking creep for thinking he has any right to you. But you? You didn’t do anything wrong. I won’t stand here and let you blame yourself for one ounce of his bullshit.”
She just looks at me, the confusion clear on her delicate features.
“You’re sure? You’re not mad at me?”
Again, I’m reminded how fragile she is.
For all her iron backbone, for all that she’s fought to find her way and make her own life after a childhood plagued with asthma, she’s so inexperienced with this world.
So young.
So unsure of herself, even with me.
And it makes me painfully aware of how easily I can hurt her.
That’s why I do my best to stamp my anger down, shoving it into those dark awful places where I keep the worst parts of myself.
Closing my eyes, I lean in and press my lips to her forehead, lingering to murmur against her skin.
“I’m sure,” I say. “I’m not mad at you. I could kill Xavier about fifty different ways, all of them torturous, but I don’t blame you. Not in the slightest.”
I’m not prepared for the way she hugs me, pressing her soft, yielding body into me. She buries her face in my shoulder.
“I was so scared. That freak, he just… I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I couldn’t be alone with him, and I had to get out of there.”
“Good move.” I curl my hand against the back of her head, stroking gently. “I don’t like the idea of you going back there. Can you take your grandfather with you?”
“Probably not a good idea,” she mumbles against my shoulder. “But I can try talking to Mr. Peters again. Ask him to just stay in earshot when I’m there?”
“You think he will?”
“Yes, I think so.” Her fingers dig into my shirt. “He seems like he cares.”