Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Then, he smirked — but not in a friendly way. Rhodes smiled in a way that made me want to cower in the furthest corner of the room.
“Yeah, Natalie, I guess so.” He shook his head. “You’re welcome. I hope I lived up to my reputation.”
I sighed. “Rhodes,” I started, feeling like a fool, but my apology was cut short. One of the women who’d been with the pack earlier sidled up beside Rhodes. His eyes had intensified to almost a neon green and they remained fixed on me as he threw his arm around her shoulder.
“Ew,” the small blonde said, swatting at him playfully. She was the shortest of the group I’d seen earlier, but by far the prettiest. “You’re all sweaty.” She laughed a little before appraising me, her smile faltering just slightly. “Who’s this?”
“This is Natalie. She’s a client.” He said the words so harshly, as if they were the nails to drive his point home. His eyes were wild. They mirrored my heartrate. “And we just finished up. See you tomorrow?” He asked me the question, but we both knew he didn’t expect a response.
“Rhodes,” I blurted out, boldly reaching for his arm. He shrugged out from beneath my touch as if it offended him. “It’s me. Please. Don’t do this.”
The woman under his arm looked bored, and she pulled out her cell phone to type out a text. I thought I saw Rhodes falter, I thought I saw him soften, but he frowned so quickly that I couldn’t be sure if I’d imagined it.
“Do what?” His jaw tensed.
I moved closer, whispering so only he could hear me. “Don’t leave with her. Please, Rhodes. This isn’t you. You can’t do this. Not after everything we’ve done… everything we’ve become.”
His nose flared and his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. He waited. For what, I wasn’t sure. Clearly, nothing I could say would stop him now. He had given me the final push, throwing me to the cold hard ground, and even though it killed me, I didn’t try to get back up again.
I could let him walk away from me, but I couldn’t bear to watch this time.
So I turned first.
My feet numbly carried me through the club and to my car. I started the engine, put the gear in drive, and the rest was a blur. My mind raced, thoughts blending together in a colorful disaster as I drove. Rhodes was going home with that woman tonight, and I felt physically ill at that realization. Even worse, I’d pushed him there. I knew he was upset, I knew those women had said something to him, but instead of giving him space or trying carefully to help him when he pulled away, I threw his way of life in his face. I brought up his services, making fun of him, letting him think I saw him the same way everyone else did.
Now I felt sick for a completely different reason.
Eventually, I found myself at the park he’d taken me just a few days before. I pulled out my camera and took pictures without studying the frame. As the soft shutter button sounded over and over again, I wondered if Rhodes would have been different had his sister not disappeared. I snapped the swings, their empty seats blowing in the wind of the impending storm, and I imagined a younger Rhodes there. I asked myself if he would have looked peaceful, if he would have smiled, if he would have laughed — all questions I had no answer to.
I sat on the same picnic bench he’d kissed me on just a few nights before. I could still feel his lips on mine, hear his words in my ear as he told me I didn’t deserve the shit he gave me. But the strange thing was, I wanted that pain. I wanted to help him when he felt low, push him up to solid ground, carry him when he couldn’t carry himself. But he didn’t want me.
Even after everything, he would lay with another woman that night, and what killed me most was that I knew he was better than that.
The first echo of thunder rumbled the playground around me and filtered through my core, twisting in to fill the gaps between my guilt and anger. It shook me so hard I dropped my camera, the strap around my neck the only thing saving it from shattering.
If only I’d had a safety strap, too.
Sleep didn’t come that night. I was restless, tossing and turning, twisting in the sheets and huffing out in frustration when my mind still wouldn’t shut off. When dawn finally broke, I pretended to be asleep long enough for Mom to wake me up to have breakfast with her. She and Dale were leaving in just a few hours for another business trip, and Mom wanted to make me pancakes — even though they weren’t on my meal plan and Christina was already there and could have cooked, instead.