Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Honestly, I don’t know.
I know I’ve not had one and I thought that was weird, but I tried to appreciate not having to deal with my period rather than worry about missing it and what those repercussions could mean.
Before I can answer, Mom continues, her spine straightening. “What exactly happened when you were with those people? Did they…”
Destiny flinches at her words. I feel guilty that we’ve somehow hurt her just by bringing up that time.
“Did they what?” I ask, voice shrill. “No. They didn’t do anything to me. But, even if they did, I wouldn’t want to talk about it!”
I make a pointed look toward Destiny. Mom glances over at her and softens.
“I just worry that—”
“Last month, okay?” I huff out. “Can we stop talking about this now?”
Mom’s gaze narrows. “Okay, sweetie.”
I deflate at her words. Usually, she puts up more of a fight during our arguments. Maybe the baby is making her feel sick again. Or maybe she finally figured out that discussing this stuff in front of Destiny isn’t the best thing to do. She’s already so fragile. Reminding her of what Jace did to her—or at least what I assume he did since she won’t speak—is downright cruel. She, like me and Ronan, just wish we could forget everything about the kidnapping.
While Mom gets distracted with laundry and kids, I can’t help but obsess over her question. When was my last period? I’d had it maybe three months ago. I’m not a hundred percent sure. I know I didn’t have it while in captivity or since coming home.
Oh God.
I’ve had sex twice with my brother.
I can’t be pregnant from having sex two times. That seems impossible. Mom and Dad have sex all the time, even with us sleeping in the same stupid cabin. That’s why they have a million kids.
But me?
I’m not ready to have a baby. Babies are needy and keep you trapped inside when you’d rather be anywhere instead.
Definitely not pregnant.
If I were pregnant, wouldn’t I be puking all the time like Mom?
The root cellar made you gag…
That was real, though. Something died in there. Rowdy just didn’t care to look for the source. It wasn’t me being sensitive. It. Wasn’t.
Dread curdles my stomach and a wave of nausea follows.
Oh God. I can’t be. I better freaking not be.
* * *
* * *
It’s so cold in my cabin.
The fireplace is no longer putting out much heat, which means I should add a few logs, but I can’t be bothered to move. Buried under my quilt, shivering and feeling sorry for myself is a better place to be.
Too bad Raegan isn’t here.
I’d love to cuddle with her right now. She’d also find some way to make me smile. But, not only did I wreck my relationship with Ryder, I ruined what me and Raegan had too.
I’m all alone.
I fucking hate it.
Seeing him each day as we work on the big house is torture. He’s grown his hair out again. I like the way the dark hair peeks out from beneath his beanie. When the wind blows, it moves the hair that looks silky and soft. I ache to rip the beanie off his head and run my fingers through his hair.
That’s not going to happen.
I can’t even get him to talk to me. After what happened a couple of months ago, he moved out. It’s hard to discuss things when he sleeps at Rowdy’s. During the day, when we’re all working, it’s not like I can exactly talk about this shit in front of everyone.
It hurts not having either one of them.
I miss them both so much.
Kota is my only company and that’s just at night. Since they’re so crowded next door, he shares a bed with me now. The kid is a kicker and I have more than my fair share of bruises from him. It helps, though, having him here so I’m not so alone when it’s dark out. Dakota can’t rescue me from my nightmares, but he gives me something else to focus on. Without him, I’d go insane.
Someone knocks on the door. I groan as I peek my head out from under the quilt. My glasses are on the bedside table, so I can’t see who it is. Despite the nervousness that shivers down my spine, I call out for the person to enter. If it were Logan, he wouldn’t knock.
A man steps through the door, making my heart rate quicken. Ryder clears his throat, and upon my squinting, announces himself with a, “It’s me.”
He closes the door behind him and kicks off his boots. I track him as he grumbles about the temperature on the way to the fireplace. With his back to me, he tosses some logs onto the fire, pokes at it with the poker, and then turns to look at me.