Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 70661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
When he woke up the next morning, his eyes weren’t filled with as much intoxication, but it was obvious he was a bit hungover. He sat up in bed then ran his fingers through his hair. After he glanced at the clock on the nightstand to check the time, he looked at me. As if everything had rushed back into his brain, his eyes hardened with the event that would take place today. “You didn’t sleep.”
“No.” I sat up and kissed his shoulder, wanting to drown this man in kisses. I wanted to feel him beside me every night until time claimed our bodies. I didn’t want to lose him to a bully on steroids.
He turned his face toward mine then placed a kiss on my upper cheek, his lips brushing past my messy hair. Then he slipped out of the bed and got to his feet. With a muscular back and powerful thighs, he looked like a gladiator without his armor. He stretched his arms over his head, his back rippling in response. As if it was an ordinary day with ordinary events on the calendar, he walked into the bathroom and got his day started.
I lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling—sick to my stomach.
He walked down the stairs to the dining room, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a gun on his hip.
I followed him. “You’re just going to act like everything is normal?”
“How else am I supposed to act?” He reached the bottom of the stairs and then entered the dining room. Breakfast was already laid out, omelets with coffee. He took a seat and filled his mug, like he was about to go to work the second he was finished.
I sat across from him, flabbergasted he could be so calm. “Like this might be your last day on earth.”
He took another drink. “People die every day. I’m going to die just like everyone else. Whether it happens now or in thirty years doesn’t make a difference.”
“It makes a huge difference.”
He shrugged. “Everyone has different opinions about death. I don’t have an opinion. I just accept it.”
“How can you talk like that? How can you be okay with all of this? This isn’t even your fault—”
“We can argue about it all day, or we can just enjoy our breakfast. If I really do only have a few hours left, this isn’t how I want to spend them.” He grabbed his cloth napkin and pulled the silverware from the interior. With hunched shoulders, he leaned forward and shoveled the food into his mouth.
It would be easy to admire him for his bravery, but I knew his courage stemmed from a dark place. “You aren’t afraid to die because you want to die…”
He stopped eating and lifted his eyes.
With heartbreak in my veins, I held his gaze and felt my heart sink into my stomach.
“I’m not suicidal.”
“No…but you don’t want to keep living either.”
He turned his eyes back to his food and kept eating. “Sometimes, I get tired. There’s so much bad and very little good. And the good things that happen to you don’t last forever. Then you’re haunted by the memories.”
I knew he was referring to his perfect family. Everything was great…until it wasn’t. “You still have a lot to live for… I want you to live.”
“But I would rather die than let something happen to you. I have to protect my people too. If I let us shoot it out, Abigail would get hurt, along with other people I care about. This is clean and has dignity. And you keep assuming I’m going to lose.”
“The odds aren’t great, Maverick…”
“They’re good enough if you ask me.” He stabbed his fork into his food and placed it in his mouth. “I’ve been a part of this world my entire life. I know how these things go. You’ve been sheltered and oblivious for the last twentysomething years. This is a difficult pill to swallow, but you need to be strong.”
“Maverick…I can’t lose you.” I repeated the same words to him that I’d whispered last night. “You mean everything to me now. This started off as a nightmare, but everything has changed. You’re my husband, and you’re supposed to take care of me. But I’m your wife, and I’m supposed to take care of you too—”
“That wasn’t the deal. I take care of you—”
“It’s the deal now. There has to be another way…”
He stared at his plate then shook his head. “There is no other way, Sheep.”
“You could give me to him…” I didn’t want to be a slave to that man. He would rape me, along with all his other men. Then assholes would pay big money to fuck me. I’d get knocked around, and my existence would be so terrible, I’d wish for death. But it was still better than watching Maverick shoot himself in the head.