Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Even though it sounds like a question, I know it isn’t. I know it’s a statement and a claim. I am his and he will take care of me. “I love you too,” I say without the normal, ‘I know,’ and his fingers still linked with mine tighten. Closing the slight distance between us, I brush my lips softly against his then lean back and smile. “You’re not getting out of watching Ancient Aliens,” I inform him, needing to take the intensity out of the situation, and he laughs letting me go.
“I didn’t think I would be able to.” He grins, opening his door and sliding out from behind the wheel. Opening my own door, I grab Leo’s kennel from the back seat while he gets our bags from the trunk and then wait for him on the sidewalk, since I’m too lazy to search through the contents of my oversized purse for my house keys. “Once we’re settled, you need to tell your mom and dad that we’re staying here. I know they have a tendency to show up at the house and I don’t want them freaked when they find we’re not there,” he says, putting the key in the lock before opening the door, and I nod.
“I’ll call after I release Leo,” I murmur, heading down the hall to the living room while he takes our bags to the bedroom. Setting Leo’s kennel on the couch, I open the door and wait. “Come on,” I coax as he sticks his head out to look around. Realizing where he is after a moment, his eyes come to me and I swear he glares before taking off to hide.
Listening to my stomach remind me I haven’t eaten much today, I walk across the living room to the kitchen and open the fridge door, shaking my head when I see we only have a can of Coke and a box of baking soda. “We have no food. Should we order pizza, or Chinese?” I shout toward the mouth of the kitchen. “Dillon?” I prompt after a long moment, feeling my hairs stand on end and my breath suddenly become choppy.
Concentrating closely and hearing nothing, I silently move across the tile floors and open the drawer with the knives, feeling my heart skip a beat as the metal clangs together. Listening for any sound at all, I carefully pull out one of the knives on top, wrap my fist firmly around the handle, and pray.
“Bab—” Spinning, my arm shoots out holding the knife as a horrified scream leaves the back of my throat. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Dillon stumbles back wide-eyed, looking at the knife in my hand.
“Oh, God.” The knife clatters to the floor as I stare at him in horror, feeling my knees give out.
“Fuck.” He scoops me up into his arms before I can crumple to the ground and tucks me against him.
“Did I…”
“No.” He carries me toward the bedroom without another word and lays me gently on the bed, hovering over me. “What the hell happened?”
“I… you… I…”
I close my eyes as he whispers, “Breathe,” then open them back up on the third full breath I’m able to take.
“You didn’t answer me,” I finally get out, and his jaw tics.
“Baby, I did answer you.”
“You didn’t,” I deny, and he drops his forehead to my chest.
“Swear to God, baby, I wouldn’t play like that. I answered you.” He wouldn’t play like that; he would never do that to me. He would never purposely scare me, which means I’m really losing my mind.
“I thought… Oh, God, I could have killed you.” I cover my face as realization and panic set in.
“I’m fine. You’re fine. We are both fine.” He tucks me against him, and I sob into his chest.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He shushes me, palming the back of my head and keeping my face pressed into his neck. Lying there, I cling to him until the tears dry up and my stomach reminds me that we need to eat.
*
“No!”
My eyes fly open as my heart thunders against my ribs and nausea turns in my stomach.
“No, please no,” a woman screams off in the distance. Blinking, I try get my eyes to focus, but my vision is distorted and my head is pounding, making the task almost impossible. Closing my eyes, I shake my head realizing I’m drunk, even though I don’t remember drinking.
“Dillon,” I call, reaching out to wake him, and my blood runs cold when my hands don’t move. “Dillon?” I jerk my hands again, feeling a rope bite into my wrist. “This is just a dream,” I whisper, swallowing down the bile burning the back of my throat. This has to be a dream. I fell asleep in bed with Dillon after eating Chinese food and watching the news. I know I did.