Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Those eyes transfix me. It’s like she sees through the bullshit, but she always has.
What I want. That word sends a wave of warmth and desire through my body. I want her. But that’s not what I’m here for and she’s something I’ll never have.
“Have you been watching the news?” I lean forward as I ask her the question, resting my elbows on my knees. Her small body stiffens as she shakes her head. As if watching the news is a sin.
She’s a horrible liar. The worst liar I’ve ever fucking met. Maybe that’s why I feel so drawn to her. She can’t hide from me. But I can’t hide from her either. There’s something so freeing about that simple fact. Something that makes being in her presence addictive.
Even if it’s for a shit reason.
“Barry turned up yesterday, did you hear about that?” I ask her and immediately feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of her. Anything that triggers memories of her past causes her pain which is easily seen by anyone who would bother to look.
“I don’t give two shits about Barry.” Her voice turns harder as she pulls her knees into her chest. She stares straight ahead, and I follow her gaze to the peeling wallpaper.
“Do you know who did it?” At the question, her head whips in my direction with a bolt of anger flashing in her eyes.
“I don’t know shit,” she bites out and her defensiveness is exactly what the police will latch on to. “I’m going through a lot right now,” she adds, but her voice wavers. Her gaze falls as she visibly swallows and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before peeking back up to the wallpaper. “I don’t want to think about any of it.” Her voice lowers to a murmur as she says, “Sure as shit, not Barry.”
As time slowly passes, her anger diminishes, and I watch as she returns to her typical quiet state. She’s nestled in the sofa with the sad smile she always carries gracing her lips. Picking at the hem of her skirt, she glances at me thoughtfully. “Is that really what you wanted to know?”
“How are the nightmares?” I ask her, feeling my chest get tight as the smile vanishes and her eyes shift to a hollow expression I hate and know all too well. She’s good at hiding. Hiding her pain behind a smile. Hiding her reality behind the thought that one day she’ll get out of here. Well, she used to, anyway. She used to be good at all of that.
Time changes a lot of things.
She starts to answer me, but she can’t hide the emotion in her voice. Before she can lie and tell me she’s fine, her voice hitches and she turns her gaze toward the empty hallway.
“Why do you care?” Her words cut deep. Chloe’s pain is clear, but does she really think I don’t care about her?
She’s smarter than this. It’s the second time tonight I’ve had that thought. “You know I care,” is all I give her. But for the first time since I stepped foot on her porch, I feel the mask slip from me, letting her see what’s inside without putting up a wall for her to break through.
She can see it all anyway. If I stop trying to hide, maybe she will too.
She still hasn’t answered my question though.
“So how are you handling them? The nightmares?”
“They’re back. I’ve had them every night since Saturday,” she tells me. Saturday. The day they caught her mother’s killer. She’s back to fidgeting with the hem of her skirt as her gaze flickers between me and the floor.
“How did you know?” she asks, peeking up at me and I almost allow myself to get lost in the pain reflected in her baby blues. I’d rather be lost in hers than mine.
“You look tired,” I answer her honestly. She drops her gaze though, sighing deeply and pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes.
“Well if you wanted to know if I knew who killed Barry, I don’t. So, you can go now, and I can get some sleep.” She stands up and hugs her chest, although her posture is more aggressive than defensive.
For nearly a year, I could feel her watching me whenever I was near her. The pull to be at her side was stronger than anything else. Nothing could compete with her, but I resisted. I couldn’t let her get caught up in this shit.
Now she’s the one pushing me away. Fair enough, I suppose. It doesn’t change the fact that this is a small world, and I know she still feels that draw, just like I do.
“I have something that can help you,” I tell her as I stand with no intention of walking out just yet. She can pretend that she has the ability to tell me what to do. We both know that’s not the case, but I respect her too much to rub it in her face. Besides, I can’t let her push me away when I have something she needs.