Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
If Leo and Kody weren’t here, would I give Monty a second chance?
I have no fucking clue. But this battle between my heart and my head is a mess I can’t afford to untangle right now. Not when there are more pressing matters like the imminent meeting at the office and the revelations awaiting us on the thumb drive.
Monty’s gaze in the mirror finds me again, a silent question lingering in his eyes.
I offer a small, reassuring smile, a gesture meant to ease his worry, even if I can’t fully assuage my own.
For now, I must shelve my feelings and compartmentalize the confusion and conflict. There will be time later to sort through it.
“How’s your leg?” I run a hand over Kody’s knee.
“Stop asking, woman.” He grimaces.
God forbid he admits it hurts.
Stubborn man.
Before we left, I applied a medicated cream prescribed by the doctors. He’s not limping as much, but I suspect that every small movement feels like fire.
As the car moves through the snowy streets of Anchorage, I force myself to look out the window, to let the passing scenery distract me from the chaos within. Survival has always been about prioritizing, and this is no different.
There’s more pain ahead, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
Monty guides the car into a parking spot within a dimly lit garage, the tires squeaking against concrete. As we disembark, the chill of the enclosed space wraps around us.
Monty leads the way to a set of elevators, his stride confident and familiar with the path.
“Have you been here before?” I ask.
“Yes.” He presses the call button. “I personally returned your journal to Melanie.”
“Oh.” I peer at him. “It’s strange…I mean, you usually have people doing things for you.”
“A lot has changed, Frankie.”
As the wait for the elevator stretches out, I sense a shift in Leo and Kody. They exchange brief, uncertain glances.
The urge to hug and comfort them through every new sight and sound twitches through me. But they don’t want that.
They don’t need it.
They survived the Arctic Circle, for fuck’s sake.
When the doors finally slide open with a soft chime, Monty steps in without hesitation. Leo follows, a hint of reluctance in his movement. He stands just inside the elevator, his body rigid, eyes scanning the interior as if assessing a strange new territory.
Kody hesitates at the threshold before stepping in beside Leo, his expression tight.
Give them space, Frankie. They need room to grow and adjust.
As the doors close, sealing us in, Kody’s hand grips the rail tightly, his knuckles whitening.
Leo keeps his gaze fixed on the numbers above the door, watching them change with an intensity that makes me smile.
Their reactions to the ascent, the subtle vibration underfoot, and the sensation of movement unconnected to any visible change in the environment seem to fascinate and unsettle them.
Neither of them speaks, but their body language communicates their disquiet. The elevator’s gentle hum and the smooth glide upward are everyday experiences for most. But for them, it must be overwhelming.
Their wide-eyed, alert stances hint at a readiness to face whatever comes. But there’s an underlying curiosity, a desire to understand this new aspect of the world they’ve stepped into.
I love this for them.
I love that I get to experience their new freedom.
When the elevator reaches the top floor and the doors open, Leo steps out first with an exhale of relief. Kody follows, his posture relaxing as he wanders into the expansive hallway.
Monty seems oblivious to their discomfort, or perhaps he’s chosen to ignore it, focused on leading us to our destination.
The soft hum of the city behind sealed windows follows us to the door at the end of the hall. As it swings open, Melanie greets us with a practiced smile, her presence immediately grounding, despite the undercurrent of dread.
The vibe in the air reminds me of the uncomfortable silence at a funeral. No one knows how to handle the heaviness of so many choking emotions.
“Welcome.” Melanie steps aside to allow us entrance. “Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable.”
Her gesture sweeps us into a private room designed to take the edge off formal meetings. A plush couch beckons invitingly, flanked by multiple chairs, all arranged to face a large TV mounted on the wall.
As we file in, Melanie nods at the wet bar nestled in an alcove. “Can I get anyone something to drink?”
Kody and Leo exchange a look before Leo says, “Vodka for us.”
“Bourbon for Frankie and me.” Monty lowers into a chair and straightens his suit jacket.
Leo stiffens. “You assume to still know her?”
Monty pauses, his eyes shifting to Leo, glinting with something. “You’re right,” he concedes, turning back to me with a more open posture. “What would you like, Frankie?”
The room holds its breath.
“Bourbon.” I hold his stare, giving him this small victory.
His nod, subtle but meaningful, signals his effort to respect and recalibrate the changing dynamics between us.