Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
“Don’t cry,” Rico says. As if it’s so easy. “Teddy won’t like it.”
“Well then maybe Teddy should be here.” Tasha stands up, putting her hands on her hips and shooting daggers at Rico.
“Baby,” he warns.
“Don’t use that tone on me,” she throws back.
“She’s a crying mess and where is he? Tell me?” she snaps, clearly pissed. “I told him to be careful with her.”
Rico comes over to Tasha and gives her a kiss on the lips. Her hands drop from her hips and I watch some of her anger dissipate. It makes me miss Bear even more because I know that feeling. When he touches me I know everything is going to be better. That it will all be okay.
“Calm,” he reminds her, and she nods.
There’s a buzzing sound and Rico looks down at his phone. “Fuck.” The one word is filled with worry and I know something is wrong.
“What’s wrong? Is it Bear?” Panic laces my words. I pick up my phone, hoping that maybe he texted me, too.
“It’s not him.” He pauses for a moment. “But it’s about him. He’s in jail.” Rico drops the bomb and the whole room goes quiet. No one speaks for a few seconds and I’m sure I heard him wrong.
“He’s in jail? That can’t be right. Oh god, what happened?” Words are tumbling out of my mouth.
“I don’t know, but I gotta go get him out.”
“What happened, Rico?” Now I’m on my feet. “They are going to let him out?” My hands start to shake. What if he isn't coming home? I can’t catch my breath.
“Pep,” I hear Tasha say. “Pepper. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
My butt hits the sofa and I close my eyes, doing as Tasha says.
“Everything is going to be fine. Just breathe.”
I take a moment to focus and get my breathing under control. When I finally open my eyes, both of them are looking at me with worried expressions on their faces. “Sorry. Small panic attack. I haven't done that since I was a kid.”
“Watch her. I’ll be back.” All of Rico’s normal teasing is long gone. He’s almost like another person right now.
“I want to come.” I try to stand up again but feel dizzy. Tasha pulls me back down onto the sofa.
“Yeah, sure, take you to a jail. That will go over great with Theodore. I think we have a big enough mess to clean up here already.”
“That’s not helping,” Tasha scolds.
“I’ll be back.” Rico’s eyes meet mine. “With him,” he adds.
It doesn’t help much, but at least I know he’s coming back. I wonder if he’ll want me to stay once he gets here. This is all crazy.
“I really want to come,” I say again, wringing my fingers together.
“I know, but there’s going to be press and he’s probably going to be like a caged animal in there. You will only ramp it up.”
I don’t know how to take that, so I nod and stay seated. Tasha takes my hands in hers and I hear the door close.
“Maybe you should lie down for a little bit and see if you can get some rest.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”
It’s true, no matter how wonderful the idea sounds. Everything has worn me out and the crying hasn’t helped.
“Okay, but you should at least rest.” Tasha gets up and grabs a pillow, placing it on the end of the sofa. I move over and put my head down as she drops a blanket over me.
I close my eyes, wishing Bear were here.
Chapter Sixteen
Bear
I concentrate on the cold steel around my wrists, how annoying they feels. It stops me from thinking about anything else. If I think too far beyond the handcuffs I’m going to lose control. Again.
A cop calls out my name and I stand up and walk to the bars.
“You made bail,” he says as he looks me up and down.
I can’t decide if he’s threatened by my size or impressed there’s a celebrity in his jail. Either way, he’s handled me differently than all the other incoming offenders. I even got my own cell, so I’m trying to be grateful for small miracles.
I’m brought to the front desk and they write up the discharge papers. I’m given back my wallet, keys, and cell phone.
“Can you get these off me?” I ask, holding up my wrists, but the guy isn’t in a hurry.
I turn my phone on with one hand while he pulls out his keys, and I see I’ve got sixty missed calls and twice that in missed texts.
“Shit,” I mumble as I try to type out a text message with one hand. I’ve never been good at it to begin with, but this isn’t making it any easier.
“You’re free to go,” the cop says, unclipping the cuffs and pointing to the exit door.