Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
But something inside my head whispers… secrets were made to be told… and I know if I let Clark get any closer, those secrets will spill out. Ruining both of us forever.
We part ways, and I spend the morning going over my syllabus for class and putting my books together. I’m beyond nervous to start classes but tell myself it’s college. No way is it anything like high school was. I can handle this.
Later that afternoon Clark has some guys come and fix my bedroom door while I hide out in the basement, curled up on the couch, some reality tv show on. I still can’t believe he kicked the door in to get to me. No one has ever come to my rescue like that.
Foolishly I wonder what my life would be like, how different I would be had I had someone like Clark in my life before now.
“The guys are done, and my father is on his way home. He didn’t tell me where he was at, but he’ll be here soon,” Clark sighs, sagging down onto the couch beside me. He looks, well, frustrated, to say the least, and it makes me wonder how strained his relationship with his father is. As soon as the thought appears in my mind a question forms on my tongue.
“Do you like your dad?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. It’s not like my relationship with my father is any better. I’m here only as a favor, as a burden. My father doesn’t know what to do with me, and so here I am. I’m here because it’s the easiest option, because my father is tired of dealing with me.
“Like? That’s not really the word I would use to describe our relationship. My father sees me as a burden, well, unless he needs me to do something for him, then I’m a convenience.”
“Mine sees me as a burden, never a convenience.”
“He sounds like an ass.” Clark grins, trying to make light of the situation. “I guess it’s good we have each other then, right?” He smiles, but I can’t return his smile. Not with the nagging feeling at the back of my mind that makes me wonder, do we really? I’ve been alone for so long I wouldn’t know what to do with a friend.
If that Sarah chick wasn’t enough evidence, I get the feeling Clark doesn’t have friends that are girls, which leads me back to the question running rampant in my mind?
Why? Why help the broken girl?
I’m about to ask him why he would want to help me, wondering if this is all an act, something that my father put him up to when the sound of the front door opening meets my ears. He’s here. My thoughts shift, swirling with panic. Dread fills my gut. I must have my worry painted on my face because Clark reaches out, placing a hand against my leg to calm me, and it does, his touch calms me, but it does something else too.
It gives me a warmth I’ve never experienced before, a tingling forms deep in my stomach and I want to latch onto that feeling, explore it.
“Clark, Emerson?” Clark’s father’s deep voice slices through that warmth bringing me back to the present with a hard jerk.
“It’s going to be okay,” Clark assures me again and gets up from the couch. He helps me up as well and we walk hand in hand toward the stairs that lead up to his waiting father. Again, warmth encompasses me, leaving me both curious and terrified. I can still feel the fear lingering beneath the surface, threatening to break through like a wave crashing against a cliff’s edge.
The walk up the steps is a quick one and when we reach the opening to the foyer, I see Clark’s father waiting for us an impatient look on his face. I can’t help it, as soon as my feet touch the pristine marble floor I clam up.
Like most of the wealthy men I’ve met, he’s wearing a suit that’s tailored to his body. It’s always the same, expensive suit, money, power, it’s nothing more than an image, a shield used to hide the darker things beneath. The impulses, the need. All waiting with bated breath to be released. A shiver ripples down my spine and I squeeze Clark’s hand tighter, as he all but drags me across the floor to stand before his father.
It feels like I’m being placed under a microscope to be inspected. Clark’s father's gaze is powerful, raw, consuming and I feel the need to cower in his presence.
Even with my eyes on the floor, I can feel his gaze on me, burning a path of fire into my flesh. Slowly I peek up at him through my lashes, my lungs burning my heart hammering so hard it feels like it’s going to burst from my chest.