Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Yesterday, Drew seemed more determined than ever that he was going to go through with it, and while I hesitate to try to have another conversation with him, I won’t shy away from it. This is our future together, and his actions will directly impact both of us. I love him and I don’t want to see him or my brother go to prison, even if his piece of shit father deserves nothing short of death. I hold my cell phone in my hands, contemplating who I’ll go and question first, Sebastian or Drew.
Fate steps in at that moment, and my cell chimes with an incoming text from Drew.
Psycho: Come to The Mill at 5.
It’s not a question, but a demand. I’m tempted to reply with a smart-ass remark but choose against it. The time on my phone says three, and while I know his message says five, I’ve already spent the entire day letting my thoughts on the conversation run rampant.
If I show up earlier than expected, who cares?
There’s a frenzy of fear in my gut. I hate the thought of losing either of them over some stupid-ass shit. Not now, not when things have been better. Drew’s dad would find a way to fuck everything up. The longer I’ve thought through it, the more I’m pulled in two directions.
Part of me wants to tell Drew that I’ll do anything I can to help him get rid of his father, but the other part of me, the part with the moral compass, feels disgusted at the thought.
Death is something the horrible man deserves more than anyone I know, but…
Do I really have it in me to be an accomplice to murder?
It’s hard to think about because the thought reminds me of my mother and how fresh that loss still is. I miss her every single day, and I’d do anything to get her back, and here is Drew preparing to kill his father just so he can be free.
It hurts my heart the longer I think about it, so instead of doing that, I make the executive decision to go see him early. I ease away from my desk and the stacks of books, and stand to stretch. Sebastian is probably in his office right now, so if I sneak out the front door, I'll have like a fifteen-minute head start until the text barrage of “where are you” commences.
Instead of bothering the driver who will most likely tattle to Sebastian—not that I have to answer to him really—I order a ride through the app. It’s only a short drive to The Mill, and I huddle into my black peacoat as the car inches up the driveway.
When the car pulls away, I’m left standing there facing the front door of the mansion. I'm not sure what to do with myself. Do I knock? I almost laugh.
Usually the door is half open, people or a party spilling out. I guess I’ll just go inside. With a shrug, I push it open and step inside, letting the warmth of the house lead me. The juxtaposition is almost painful between the deadly chill outside and the blasting heat indoors.
It would be a wonderful day to be cuddled on the couch with hot cocoa and a book. I vaguely wonder if I could get Drew to read one of the romance books I’m reading. I save the thought for another time and walk a little farther inside.
The house is mostly silent, and I don’t like it. It’s odd and makes me think there’s something bad about to happen. I tell myself it’s nothing but nerves. I tiptoe toward the staircase, but freeze, my heart thudding into my throat when I spot Lee standing in the kitchen, his dark gaze on me.
The normal boyish grin and charm he exudes are replaced with something far more menacing now, and the energy that rolls off him makes me shiver. My gaze roams his shirtless chest, not because I’m checking him out, but because of what I see there. Even in the dim lighting, you can’t miss the numerous scars that dot his chest, sides, and arms.
Are they from fights? Is someone hurting him? Is he hurting himself?
The questions stack up, and all I can do is frown at him, afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll end up regretting it.
"Wipe that look off your face. I don’t want or need your pity.”
I steel my spine. "I was just going to ask if you've seen Drew."
“Sure you were.” He rolls his eyes. “He’s upstairs, or maybe he’s not. I don’t know.”
I take that as my cue to leave and turn on my heels, giving Lee one last look as he holds the bottle of rum to his ripped abs. It's half gone already, and I know someone needs to help him. I can see the pain in his eyes, but everyone else is so absorbed in their own issues that no one seems to notice their friend drowning in his sorrows.