Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry. We’ve got you,” Dallas coos, the gentleness of his voice calming me instantly.
A few minutes later, we finally arrive back at the cabin. Dallas places me on the soft carpet in front of the fireplace and grabs blankets. I immediately curl up into a fetal position, trying to keep warm as much as I can, while Griffin lights the fire before running out to get more firewood.
“Can you sit up?” Dallas asks. “We need to get your wet underwear off.” I nod, and Dallas holds up the blanket so I can quickly get undressed. The icy fabric sticks on my skin. I peel off the jackets, now wet from absorbing the water from my body, and discard them along with the soaked underwear on the floor next to me. Dallas helps me wrap up with a wool plaid blanket around my torso while laying a second one around my shoulders.
When Griffin gets back, he has a weird look on his face, almost like he’s disappointed about missing me getting undressed.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything. Dallas was a gentleman and didn’t look.”
“Who said I didn’t look?” Dallas winks at me, and if I wasn’t still half frozen, I’m sure my cheeks would heat up. Instead, I play it off cool and shrug my shoulders as if I don’t care.
Griffin adds more wood to the fire, and the flames roar up to a comfortable heat. I hold out my slightly blue fingers. Slowly, the feeling in my limbs returns, and my lungs fill with air more deeply again. My hair is still wet, but the blanket around my shoulders acts like a barrier.
As if Griffin could hear my thoughts, he disappears into the bathroom to return with a towel for my head. “Thank you.” I take the towel and wrap it around my hair, wringing the last bit of cold water out.
Dallas does something in the kitchen. Pots rattling together while he curses something about a can under his breath. A few moments later, he returns with a pot of soup, which he places at the edge of the fire to warm up.
“You need to eat something, and after, you are going to tell us why are you running.”
“Can I get some clean clothes?”
“Why, so you can take off again?” Dallas snaps. “The blankets are fine for now.”
“Sorry, the old man is in a mood,” Griffin jokes. My lips pull into a tiny grin, but it’s not genuine. I don’t feel like joking around.
We wait for the soup to heat in silence, and I take those moments to gather my thoughts. What the hell am I going to say that won’t make them drag me back to the hotel to face my brother?
Once the soup is warm, Dallas wraps the hot pot in a towel and sits it on my lap. Griffin brings me a spoon from the kitchen, and I start to eat slowly, buying as much time as I can. The savory flavors of the vegetable soup hits my tongue, making me realize how hungry I was. I let the delicious dish warm me from the inside, one spoonful at a time until there is nothing but a puddle left.
After I scrape the last bit of soup out of the pot, I place it next to me on the floor and tighten the blanket around my shoulders. Unable to look at either of them, I watch the flames in the fireplace while I start explaining. “I knew my mother was alive. And I knew she blamed Mason for our brother’s death, but I didn’t know how far she was willing to take it. I didn’t know she planned on killing Mason, and I had no idea about her kidnapping Teagan.”
A few minutes of uncomfortable silence settles over us. I don’t dare look at Dallas or Griffin.
“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Dallas asks after a while, his voice flat, void of emotion. He has gone into interrogation mode.
“Because I wanted to figure stuff out myself first.” It’s not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.
“Are you saying you think Mason had something to do with your brother’s death?” Griffin takes a seat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“I wasn’t sure at first. When my mom first approached me, she didn’t act crazy. Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking. I don’t know.” I haven’t known what’s right and wrong for a few months now and that’s the real problem.
I’m supposed to know these things. As the decision maker of the hotel it’s literally my job to figure out who is good and bad, what case do we take and which do we turn down. Who deserves to live and who must die. How can I do my job when I’ve lost the ability to decide?