Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“No.”
Thank God.
“Frankie, have you taken any medication recently?”
“No.”
Again, he gives me a slow nod with a wrinkled brow. “Would you like to get out of this closet?”
“Sure.” I wiggle out of the pile of clothes and stand on shaky legs.
Jack climbs to his feet. “Would you like me to return the knife to the kitchen?”
We stare at said knife in my hand. After a beat, I slowly extend my arm, keeping a good distance between us. He just as slowly takes the knife. Then, he opens the closet door and waits for me to exit.
But I can’t because that would put me too close to him. And I can’t be close to him because he might touch me. I can’t be touched.
We have a silent stare-off, and then he heads toward the kitchen, flipping lights on as he goes.
“Your oatmeal is cold. Can I make you something else to eat?”
My bare feet pad along the hardwood floor behind him, keeping a safe distance. “Okay.”
He slips the knife into the wooden block and turns toward me, his gaze making a slow inspection of my body.
I must look awful.
“How’s the baby?”
Jack doesn’t look surprised by my question. He has no discernible expression at all. “Ryn’s good. How are you?”
“I’m uh …” The open door snags my attention. I try to close it, but it won’t stay closed. Inside, my mind is screaming, “CLOSE. CLOSE. WHY WON’T IT CLOSE?” I try to hide my panic, but I can’t stop slamming the door, praying that it latches so I can lock it. So I feel safe.
“Easy. I’ll get it fixed.” Jack rests his hand on my arm, and I jump away from him, hugging myself. He frowns. It’s disbelief or outright shock. Dropping his chin, he stares at his feet for a few seconds before closing the door as far as it will go with the splintered frame.
When he looks at me again, I feel the whole weight of his unspoken words.
My nails dig into my arms. “Something … happened.”
With absolute patience, he waits. No pushing. Not even a nod or word of encouragement. The complete control he’s showing with his idle tongue and respect for the space I need is unlike anything I ever imagined love could be.
“I was leaving the university. I’d just gotten off the phone with you. And a man …” I draw in a shaky breath. “He covered my nose and mouth and shoved me against my car. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was Archer. And all of my self-defense skills died.” I wipe a tear and swallow. “I felt so helpless,” I whisper. “So weak.”
Jack takes a controlled breath and lets it out slowly but doesn’t move or say a word.
“All I remember is crying. I don’t know what he was saying to me because all I heard was Archer’s voice, his words. Then, he shoved me to the ground and ran off with my purse.” I wipe more tears. “I had to crawl under my car to retrieve the key fob and phone I’d dropped when he grabbed me. And ever since then, I’ve heard Archer’s voice. And I’ve imagined the man who robbed me seeing my address on my driver’s license and coming to find me.” I shake my head like I can shake this unsettling feeling, but I don’t think it will ever disappear. “And I see … you.”
He squints.
“I see all the photos Archer showed me of your victims.”
With a wince, he rubs his neck.
“That man in the parking lot triggered something awful, and now all I see … all I feel… all I hear are the absolute worst things. And I’m scared all the time. And I think … oh God, is this how my brother felt? Is this how Lynn and Steven felt? Trapped in their heads? Haunted by events that plagued their lives?” I release my fingernails from my skin and thread them into my hair, digging at my scalp instead. “Will anyone be able to touch me again? Am I…” my face scrunches, trying to hold it together “…b-broken?”
Jack averts his gaze in deep thought. “Do you want to die?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not broken.”
My lips part to protest. How can he know that? “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Amber eyes find mine. “I think you’re not broken.”
I shake my head. “Not that. Tell me what you’re really thinking. I won’t let you touch me. You found me in a closet with a knife. You have to be angry at me for not being more careful. Or do you still feel guilty about Archer? Or are you wondering how you got mixed up with me in the first place? Or are you—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “I made what happened with Archer about me. I couldn’t see that your needs mattered more than mine. I’m sorry you’ve had to experience so many awful moments in your life. I’m sorry you had to see photos of my victims. And if I could take it all away from you, I would. But I can’t. So I don’t want you thinking about me and my feelings. I just …” There’s so much desperation in his face. “I just want to know how I can help you.”