Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Heston stands in the kitchen, his hair washed and slicked back, an unbuttoned shirt hugging his shoulders, revealing his chest.
He glances up from his phone. “About time you woke up.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” I mutter. Blowing out a breath, I step around the couch to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?”
Where do I begin? A glass in my hand, I freeze. “For starters, Cam is missing.”
His chest lifts as he palms the back of his neck.
“He’s not missing if he doesn’t want to be found,” he says, and I shake my head.
“He’s never been gone like this. Paige is worried—”
“Oh, Paige is worried? Because it seems you’re more concerned than she is.” My mouth parts at his insinuation.
“I do not like Cam. And I’ve made my feelings more than clear when it comes to him. That doesn’t mean I want him hurt or gone. Paige needs her father, Heston.”
His tongue snakes out, dampening his bottom lip. His ominous eyes hooded, he stares right through me.
“That’s why she has me—that’s why you have me. God put you in my path that day for a reason. Why don’t you stop trying to fight it and be fucking happy?” he roars, his voice filling the room. I startle, and he pushes off the counter, grabbing his briefcase.
“Speaking of God, why don’t you and Paige find a church for us to go to this weekend? A little Jesus would do ya’ll some good.” He raises a judgmental brow. Anger plumes in my chest, searing through my limbs. Who does he think he is?
I throw the glass in my hand at him, and he ducks, which sends it smashing into the wall behind him.
“Jesus Christ, Rain!” His eyes snap from the wall to me, the look on his face suggesting I’m insane. Me. Why am I even listening to this anymore?
“I have me! Why is it men feel like they have to swoop in and rescue the damsel in distress. She must be so weak and need me,” I mock. “Get out of my house, Heston. And don’t come back.” Tears well in my eyes, but I’m not sad. I’m pissed off that I can’t kill this asshole.
“Rain, look, you’re obviously upset. Why don’t we—”
“Do not tell me to calm down,” I seethe, my nails nearly digging into the countertop. Glaring through my lashes, I whisper, “Get out, Heston. This isn’t working anymore.”
Huffing, he says, “I’ll see you for dinner,” before slamming the door behind him. Roaring in my ears, my heart rate spikes as I rush to the door and step outside before he has a chance to drive off. “You are not coming back. I said we’re done!” I scream, hatred scathing every word.
He doesn’t say anything, just climbs in his truck and starts it.
I toss my hair from my face and swipe at a falling tear. How did we get here? We were so happy, so stupidly in love. Now, we can’t be in the same room without fighting, and I can’t help but say I resent him more than half the time we’re around each other. Legs shaking, I go back inside and into the kitchen. With one hand on the counter and the other in my hair, I force myself to stop crying. I knew we were moving too fast to actually know one another. It’s all cute surprises and hot sex occupying your time together until the monsters want out of their cage for a turn. The first part of a relationship should be about getting to know each other. When the person you love is not only the heart-throbbing alpha they can be, but the asshole they really are.
Being alone really starts to set in. I don’t have my mother or someone to love and it’s starting to feel like I never will. My chest starts to burn, causing me to breathe harder. I begin to pant and cry even harder. Heston was so sweet and said all the right things, only to become a completely different person. One I no longer want in my life.
Trying not to blubber, I don’t want anything in this house that reminds me of him. Rushing back outside, I fall to my knees, the ground abrasive against my skin, and grasp and claw at the pink flowers, tearing them out of the ground. Elated that I’ll never have to look at them and think about him again. I fall back on my ass and inhale a large breath, happy with the loose dirt, and torn roots all over my porch. Tears still trickle down my cheeks, and with my nails packed with soil, I sit there, staring at the stupid van.
“Rain?” Rhodes stands at the end of my driveway in a loose gray shirt with a Harley logo and ripped-up jeans with grease on them.