Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I don’t say anything to her, although it’s frustratingly hard to keep my mouth shut when she gives me one of those fake-ass smiles. If she wanted me in her business, she’d tell me about it.
“Kincaid said I’m getting the boot from this place,” I say as she sits back down in the armchair.
I turned the television off while she was gone, wanting to force her to interact with me if she came back. She frowns at the dark screen, looking less than impressed that her distraction has been taken away.
“He set up a house in town for me to go to.”
“You don’t want to go to the clubhouse?” she asks without looking in my direction.
“I figure the quiet would be good.” Honestly, I don’t have any clue what things are like at the clubhouse, but I do recall stories from years ago about how crazy things can get there. I don’t know if there’s any truth in the tales of their orgies, but it’s not something I want to be involved in right now. If she agrees to keep helping me, I’ll be damned if I’ll have her coming to a place like that. Just the thought makes a territorial rumble slip past my lips.
Sunshine turns her head in my direction as if trying to figure out where the sound came from.
“I was hoping you’d be willing to help me there in the evenings.”
“You don’t need my help,” she says.
“I do,” I argue.
She shakes her head. “I’m not going to turn down the job, but don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous to pretend you need me there. If you want me there, then just say that. Don’t try to manipulate the—”
“I want you there,” I interrupt.
She slow blinks at me as if she never imagined I’d confess.
“I like having you around. It’s become my life’s mission to make you smile.”
She must really be upset because she doesn’t hit me with one of her fake ones.
“Will your partner have a problem with you working some place other than here?”
“It’s no problem,” she says, but it’s neither a confirmation nor a denial about having a significant other.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have Rachel help you out?”
I chuckle. “Do you think she’d shave my balls?”
Her eyes widen, her mouth hanging open as if she can’t believe I said it, but there’s a sparkle of humor in her eyes. It’s not exactly the smile I claimed I was aiming for, but it’s close.
“You know, she probably would. Want me to go get her?”
I huff a laugh while shaking my head.
“I still can’t believe some old man asked you that.”
She shrugs. “Some men never grow up.”
Her tone makes it sound like she’s not even referencing the inappropriate old man.
“Can you turn the TV back on?”
Knowing I’ll be able to spend more time with her, I lift the remote and do as she asks.
I get lost in my memories while she gets lost in a cooking show. We don’t speak about her being upset, and I feel like an asshole because part of me wants to bring it up in case she wants to curl up in my lap and let me comfort her.
Her pain takes me back to my childhood and the trauma that took me years to get over. My adoptive mom was a godsend. She was patient even through all my stages of distrust. I was an angry boy. I hated everyone—some because they hurt me at one point, others because everyone had the potential to.
The loss is several years old now, but it still feels brand new, and in a way, with my memory gone, it is. It leaves me feeling weak and alone. So, I focus on Sunshine, watching her lashes brush against her cheeks when she blinks, watching her chest rise and fall.
Her fingers toy with the locket at her throat, making me wonder if it holds an image of someone she loves or if she just likes the way it looks.
I feel misplaced guilt when I find myself watching her lips. The dreams I had of Rivet were just that. She confirmed that nothing past that one night in Bahrain happened between us. I still woke up thinking she was my wife, feeling so in love with her that I was willing to forgive the adultery if any of it was real, and yet here I am watching another woman’s mouth and wondering how soft her fucking lips are.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my head harder into my pillow.
I can’t stop thinking about why that’s the cutoff in my memory.
Was that night with her the last time I was happy?
Is it nature’s way of letting me reboot?
Have I spent the last five years in utter hell?
Is it completely unrelated at all?
Did something else happen that Rivet isn’t telling me?