Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Words that not only have me covering my mouth with both hands but my stomach twisting, demanding I spew everything I’ve ever consumed in my entire life.
Tears immediately sprint to the rims of my eyes as I fervently shake my head in defeat, knowing the undeniable hell that is now in motion.
I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE BUNNY ABERNATHY.
Chapter 23
Nolan
She won’t leave the apartment.
To be fair – other than to piss – she won’t even leave my room.
Breakfast in bed?
Yeah, that shit has the wrong meaning now.
There’s nothing romantic about feeding the person you care about in bed because it’s the only way you can guarantee they do eat.
Not that she’s eating much.
Both my trucks guzzle more fuel in a day than she has been.
And sleep?
Pretty much nonexistent.
And when she does?
She wakes up screaming at the top of her lungs in horror.
I swear it’s like she’s auditioning for a role in a Scream sequel.
All of a sudden, Bunny shoots up straight to release a gut-wrenching cry. “No!” Her frame – that’s still bearing my old sweatshirt – wildly whips around fighting off someone despite the fact no one is physically there. “No! No! No!” Her balled fists violently flail around the air. “Kill me! Just kill me! I don’t want to do this anymore!”
Exactly.
Like.
This.
Catching one of her wrists before it sucker punches me – a mistake you only make one time – leads to her instinctively swinging the other in my direction out of sheer will to break free. The instant it’s caught too, I gently encourage, “Relax, Rabbit. It’s me.” Her ink covered body continues thrashing. “It’s Mutt.”
Like normal, hearing the nickname freezes her movements.
Opens her eyes.
Convinces her to assess the actual situation she’s in and realize she was only dreaming.
Fuck, if I knew how to infiltrate that shit Freddy Krueger style I would.
I’d kill that motherfucker that’s haunting her there to give her a prequel of what’s to come in the real world when I get my hands on him.
As soon as Bunny finishes processing that she’s awake and whatever it was that was happening wasn’t real, her entire body sags in relief against the gray sheets. Relinquishing my hold is followed by her rolling onto her side and tucking her hands together underneath her sullen face.
I pull the cover up to her shoulder at the same time I firmly declare, “You’re safe here.”
Unfortunately, she doesn’t bother agreeing.
Or disagreeing.
Probably because that would require her to speak.
Which she hasn’t done.
At least…not consciously to us.
Not since that creepy ex fuck of hers managed to get a message into our apartment.
How he did it?
That’s the question The Kid and I need an answer to.
Why he did it?
Well, that’s the reason our woman has completely shut the fuck down.
It’s what he wanted.
To prove he still has power over her.
Control.
And until she gets it through her thick, stubborn skull that she’s the one who has the power…that gives him that power…she’s gonna always find herself feeling this…defeated.
And I hate there’s nothing I can do to snap her out of it.
Hasn’t stopped me from trying though.
“I gotta go meet, Garcia.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear threatens to bring out a smirk from us both. “Get some updates on the cases.”
Her eyebrows briefly furrow in confusion.
“Yeah, Rabbit.” This time I let the corners of my lips successfully curl upward. “It’s already Thursday.” Seeing her eyes widen to the size of truck tires causes me to slightly chuckle. “Wild how time flies when you’re already stocked up on carrots, huh?”
The impish retort receives the narrowed gaze I was hoping it would yet not the verbal lashing.
God, I’d do anything to hear her say some snarky shit to me.
To The Kid.
Even just…a simple…hi would ease this gnawing ache that just stirs in my gut like fucking wet cement in a cement truck.
“You hungry?”
Rabbit shakes her head.
Snuggles deeper under the sheet.
“Thirsty?”
She repeats the action.
“Humpy?”
Once more I’m given a mirth-filled glare proving that regardless of how the shit looks, our woman is still somewhere in there.
Trying to survive.
Desperate to break free.
An overly dramatic sigh floods the room inspiring more humor to fill her gaze but not the rest of her expression. “Can’t blame a man for hopin’, right?”
I’m shot a quirked eyebrow full of so much attitude, I swear I can practically hear the thoughts accompanying it.
Seriously.
The fucking lengths I would go to in order to have her actually speak to us again are getting more extreme by the hour.
“Want me to send The Kid up?” Moving the TV remote closer to the pile of pens on the bedside dresser is casually executed. “Have him keep you company for a while? Maybe watch a movie or something to take your mind off of shit?” She hesitates to wordlessly reply prompting me to instantly remind, “It’s not a big deal, Rabbit. The garage is still closed for repairs, so you’re not keepin’ him from workin’. I swear.”