Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I grit my teeth, hoping to trap it, to cage it, but it roars out, wild and unwieldly.
“It’s my fault,” I mutter into her neck, squeezing her, needing something to hold on to when it seems the whole world is spinning. “God, Millie…she…the twins…it’s my fault. O would still be here if…”
“Shh, baby.” She rubs my back and kisses my jaw, my cheeks, my tears. “It’s not your fault. It’s his fault, and we can’t bring Owen back, but we’ll make Gregory pay, and we’ll be there for Millie and the kids. We will. I promise, Maxim. I promise.”
I don’t know how long the tears fall, and I’m not ashamed or self-conscious. Not with her. She’s an extension of me, and I’m an extension of her. She’s a layer of my skin, a chamber of my heart. She’s the tattoo on my chest.
Endurance.
I know what it meant when I got it, but Lennix brings new meaning to everything, even the word inked on my skin. She endures. This connection that started so many years ago, it endures. For the first time tonight, I think I can make it, as long as I have this. As long as I have her.
CHAPTER 45
LENNIX
“Oh, hell.”
I jerk upright in Maxim’s hotel bed, naked as the day I was born. There’s light coming through the shades.
Light is bad. Very bad.
I throw the covers back and jump out of bed. We’re supposed to leave for Pittsburgh at eight. I snatch my phone from the bedside table.
“Six thirty. Not great, but not the end of the world.”
“Where are you going?” Maxim asks drowsily, grasping my wrist, his fingers catching in my bracelet. “Come back to bed. I’ll make us breakfast later.”
“Doc, we aren’t in Wyoming.” I pull away and search the floor for my clothes. “I have to go before someone sees. I’ll meet you at the bus.”
I speed out to the sitting room and locate my torn panties and jeans. Slipping the jeans on commando, I stuff the torn panties in my front pocket. I throw on the campaign tank top, not bothering with the bra but balling it into one hand and grabbing my shoes with the other. I have to make this the most discreet walk of shame in the history of hookups.
I open the door cautiously, almost overlooking the guard sitting in the corner of the small reception area. He quickly averts his eyes.
I’m not wearing a bra. Great.
Nippling in this tank top. Panties hanging out of my pocket. Barefoot. Well-fucked hair all over the place. This is some trashy shit right here and not my proudest moment.
I flash the guard an awkward smile while I wait for the elevator. The security staff know about Maxim and me. Most of them were with us in Wyoming. They probably think it’s strange that we don’t tell everyone. Fortunately, this is a private floor and you have to know the code to get up here. I should be safe.
The elevator doors open, and before I can step on, Glenn steps off. We both stand there, suspended in our mutual disbelief. I grip my bright orange bra so tightly, I’m sure I crush the wires in it. His gaze falls to my fist of orange satin, and his mouth drops open.
“Glenn, I can explain.”
He grabs my wrist, flipping my hand over and forcing my fingers open. The bra, garish in the morning light, falls to the floor. He doesn’t let my wrist go but squeezes.
“You little bitch,” he says through gritted teeth. “Him? Him, Lennix? Miss I Never Fuck My Candidates. You hypocrite. What a cliché you turned out to be.”
“Glenn, you’re hurting me,” I whisper because I don’t want to alarm the guard, who will rush him if I show any sign of distress.
The door opens behind us, and I close my eyes, already knowing how ugly this will get and blaming myself.
“What’s going on?” Maxim asks.
I look over my shoulder, and he takes in the whole scene at a glance, from my bare feet and the bra on the floor to Glenn’s fingers manacling my wrist.
“Get your damn hands off her, Hill,” he says, every word a knife aimed and hurled at Glenn’s head. He strides over and pulls me out of Glenn’s grip, glancing at my wrist, where Glenn’s fingerprints have left livid red marks. I see the snap happen in his head and position myself in front of Glenn.
“Doc,” I say, pressing my hand to his bare chest.
He looks past me to Glenn and then to the guard in the corner, who’s on his feet but apparently unsure how to best intervene and awaiting instruction from Maxim.
“You just stood there? While he did this to her?” The guard opens his mouth, but Maxim puts up one silencing finger. “Don’t. I’ll deal with you later.”