Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 109096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
"No thanks, Dove," he replies firmly. He never wants to come into my house, no matter how many times I suggest it. I'm desperate to do more for him, but it was hard enough to get him to accept the food. Maybe with time, I can help him some more. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, yeah?"
"Of course." I blow him a kiss and he laughs, retreating to his makeshift bed on the sidewalk.
I wrap my black cardigan tight around my body as a chill blows right through me. I've done everything on my to-do list now, but the night stretches ahead, promising hours of insomnia.
Maybe if I could finally catch a wink of sleep, things would be different. But as I lock the door behind me, I know it's not an option. Not with the shadow of my past hanging heavy above me with every step I take.
Chapter 4
Nox
After Dove gives her dinner to that homeless guy she's so intent on saving, and returns home, I decide to call it a night, too. As much as I want to watch her sleep, I have to fight the urge to break into her house. I need to bide my time.
Instead of keeping an eye on the little bird, I head back to Motel 97 where I'm renting a shitty room. I don't need much when it comes to sleeping arrangements, and I don't want to spend unnecessary money on a place to sleep. Although now that I've been following Dove for a few months, I'm starting to think I might need a more permanent place in LA, if only to avoid suspicion.
The bored-looking receptionist whose name I keep forgetting is popping bubblegum as I walk into the motel and grunt for her to hand me my keys. She perks up right away. I can tell she likes me. A few years ago, I would've taken advantage and had her in my bed the moment I first got to Motel 97. But not now.
Now, my attention is focused solely on Dove. She's the one I want, not some random redhead with a butterfly tramp stamp. So fucking generic it hurts. I smirk at the girl and swipe the key from her hand when she hands it over.
"Got plans for tonight, handsome?" she asks, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Maybe you could treat me to dinner, and we could have some fun together..."
"I'm taken," I hiss instead.
"Oh yeah?" She pops her bubblegum again. "That don't matter to me, handsome."
"Well, it does to me." I turn my back on her and head to my room, but she slides around the counter and reappears in front of me. She's a goddamn pest. So fucking annoying.
"How come I ain't never seen this mystery woman, then?”
"She's shy," I grumble.
"Maybe that's cos she's imaginary," she laughs, popping her gum in my face. She glances down the hallway, then lifts up the cropped band tee she's wearing. I bet she can't name a single Nirvana song. "How 'bout these?"
I glance at her perky little tits and am left unimpressed. She doesn't compare to Dove, not even in the slightest. Plus, she's a redhead. Not even my goddamn type.
"Hard pass," I mutter, walking around her and feeling her pissed-off eyes on my back all the way to my room. She must hate me now. Not that I give a shit. As long as she stays out of my way so I can get what I fucking want.
I lock the door of my room when I'm inside, throwing my hoodie on the bed. With a groan, I pull my shirt over my head. A look in the mirror reveals not much has changed – my body is as toned as ever, given my rigorous exercise regime. But the scars are still there. Puckered. Ugly. Obvious.
I kick off my jeans and head into the shower. It's seen better times. There's black mold growing in it and the water runs brown for at least thirty seconds before it clears up. Finally, I step under the hot steam, allowing the water to beat down my back. I wash away the grime of the day, the cigarette smoke, the sweat. I wash myself until there's nothing left but burning skin and the scars that won't go away no matter how hard I scrub. Neither will the memories.
I wrap a towel around my waist and walk back into the shitty bedroom. Right there, on my bed, the redhead from earlier is sitting, legs spread and still incessantly popping that fucking gum. I groan.
"How the fuck did you get in?"
"We have security keys," she smirks. "Don't pretend like you're not glad I'm here."
I don't respond, and she picks herself up from my bed, sauntering up to me and grabbing the knot of my towel. She pulls me against her body and for some reason, I let her. But the rage inside me builds.