Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I should fucking hope not. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a bad idea.”
“Because why?”
I laugh nervously. “Because it’s you.”
“And? Can’t an old friend take you out for a kickass breakfast?”
My stomach pangs with hunger and I consider it despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head.
His chuckle sends a shiver down my spine. “You’re thinkin’ about it.”
“Kane… we can’t.”
“Why? Because of Webber?”
“That and because I’m not the girl you knew.”
“Seen it, don’t believe it. You were the girl I knew when you cussed out your mee-maw in front of the entire congregation. You were the girl I knew when you sprayed me in the eyes with that fucking mace.” His voice rolls through me like warm, liquid silk in my veins. “Why won’t you tell me why you left, Imogen? The real reason.”
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It’ll always fuckin’ matter!”
I press my lips together and rest my head on my hand. “Why do you need an answer so badly?”
“Closure,” he snarls. “I need fucking closure. I deserve it after all that time I spent looking for you.”
Did he really? I can hardly believe it. I don’t know if it’s true at all but would he lie?
“What if the closure doesn’t bring closure?”
“What does that mean?” He goes silent and I just know he’s drawing his own conclusions. I’m waiting for it, waiting for what his mind conjures. “Did you fuck somebody else? Is that what it was?”
I open and close my mouth, unable to find the words and because of my hesitation to reply, I hear the phone crack. He’s squeezing it way too hard.
“Was it somebody I know?”
“I… I don’t know what to—"
“Did you fuck one of my friends, Im?” he demands, his tone strained and angry. “You better answer me.”
“Would you hate me if I did?”
“Yes,” he replies, sounding as hoarse as I do. “Who was it? Which friend?”
“It wasn’t a friend,” I whisper.
His silence drags on for an age, though his hoarse breathing can be heard loud and clear.
“Marshall,” I add, feeling my chest crack open and spill me heart right out of it. “I had an affair with Marshall.”
I hear him beat the receiver against the desk three times before the line goes flat. Disconnecting the call on my end, I stand and move towards the stairs and just look at them to help take my mind off this pain I feel. I stayed on the sofa last night. Unable to venture up to my old room, my prison, my old life. I don’t want to get transported back to that time.
“Why did you tell him that?” Mom asks me, sneaking up behind me with a coffee in her hands. “What’s the point in hurting him after all these years?”
“He asked for it, Mom. He wants to know why I left. He wants closure. I’m giving him closure.”
She squeezes my shoulder and nods sadly until I push her hand away.
“Oh don’t try and love me now you phony ass bitch.”
Her hand slaps me across the back of my head making my ears ring, though I’ll not give her the benefit of a reaction. “I am still your mother!”
Rolling my eyes, I leave the room before I punch her in the face for hitting me first. I stare into space for a while and reply to the messages on my phone. There aren’t many, most of them are from Webber, some are from my friends in the city, one is from my client.
Around twenty minutes later there’s hammering on my door so loud the house shakes.
I freeze because I know it’s him and I don’t know what he’ll do now that he has his “closure”.
“I’ve got it,” I say to that bitch and move to the door quietly.
He keeps hammering on it until I open it and the moment I do; he shoves it so hard the handle bangs on the wall behind it. I see a sprinkle of plaster hit the wood floor and frown. I just mopped there yesterday.
I’m about to tell him to calm down when he holds my car keys out to me and drops them on the floor between us with a clatter before I can grasp them. He kicks them further into the hall and I watch them go, following the movement with my eyes and head.
I inhale sharply when he tangles his fingers in my hair and rips my head back. His lips slam down over mine so hard my teeth mash against the satin underside. I taste blood and feel bruised as he crushes our mouths together in a punishing kiss.
Releasing my lips but not my hair he hisses, “Fixed your car.”
“Meaning you’re the one who fucking tampered with it,” I argue, I don’t know why I’m surprised. “All that about not keeping me pinned was just for show. You knew I’d be coming back.”