Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
More tears fall from her eyes, the whites, pink, making the blue even prettier somehow, and I watch her. I lose myself for a moment in the depths of those eyes. It seems it’s all I can do.
“You’re very pretty when you cry.” I don’t recognize my own voice, but I do hear how that sounds.
“You’re sick, you know that?” she mutters, wiping away the steadily streaming tears. “You’re fucking sick.”
“You have no idea.” I draw back, ease my foot off the brake.
17
Blue
I don’t know what the fuck that was in the SUV. Zoë is a sore spot and his relationship with his brother is fucked up, but those things aren’t my problem. I need to focus.
“I’ll be quick,” I say once we get to the apartment and Zeke parks. I open the passenger side door and climb out.
“I don’t think so,” Zeke says. He’s out of the SUV before I can slip away, taking hold of my arm as I try to scoot past him. We walk into the apartment building.
“I’m not going to run. I can’t without leaving my sister behind and I won’t do that,” I say as we walk up the stairs, his hand tight around my arm. He doesn’t comment as we climb the stairs to my floor. “Christ, are you trying to break my arm?” I ask when we get to the door. He must realize how tightly he’s holding on to me and releases me to dig my keys out of his pocket.
He unlocks the apartment door and opens it. It’s exactly as I’d left it, all the furniture that isn’t mine that will be here for the next tenant after I’m gone.
“Get what you need,” he says, checking the time.
I walk into the apartment and head toward the bedroom, Zeke following me. There’s just a couple of things I need. One is the photo of Mom, Wren and me. It’s the only photo I have of Mom. I pick it up, smile when I look at it. The memory is sweet, but looking at it now is bitter. They’re both gone, even Wren, because who she was is no longer.
I take an old tote hanging on the closet door and put the photo inside, then reach for a shoebox on the top shelf. I can’t quite manage to get to it, but Zeke extends an arm and easily lifts the box out and sets it on the bed for me. “Thanks,” I say, opening the lid and shuffling through what is mostly junk. Buried beneath it all is a small, black velvet bag. Inside that is a necklace. It’s our mom’s. She never took it off. It’s a medal of the Virgin Mary. It was on the nightstand the day she disappeared. It’s how I know she didn’t just leave. Well, it’s one of the ways I know. First thing she did every morning was put it on and say a little prayer.
“Is that it?” he asks.
“Almost.”
His phone rings and I’m grateful when he steps away. I hurry to grab a pile of underthings and a pair of jeans and shove them, too, into the tote. Without waiting for permission, I slip into the bathroom. “I just need to use the bathroom real quick,” I say as I lock the door. I hurry to pull on a pair of panties and, after taking a deep breath in, I flush the toilet, then lift the lid of the tank, hoping the flushing of the toilet will cover any sound of what I’m doing. I feel under the rim and find what I’m looking for. What I’d hidden. My fingers come into contact with the small Ziploc bag. I peel the tape off and look at it. This is one thing I learned from my dad. Never leave all your eggs in one basket. The go bag was one thing. If anyone ever found it, took the cash, Wren and I would be screwed. So, there’s a second stash of cash. Another two grand. And along with it, a small flash drive.
My father’s laptop is empty because I emptied it. All of his files are on the thumb drive.
A knock on the door startles me. “Blue? What are you doing?”
I hurry to shove the roll of cash and flash drive into my pocket and replace the lid.
“What people do in bathrooms,” I call out, running the water as I tell myself to relax so I sound natural.
“Open the door. Now.” He bangs on it.
I unlock the door and open it. He has his fist raised to pound again.
“Whoa. I needed to change my tampon.” I say which is not quite true although I do have my period. “Is that okay, or did you want to watch me do that, too?”
He looks at me and my heart is pounding. I’m not sure he believes me.