Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Doesn’t she understand that I just want to be there for her?
It’s been that way since day one.
It was always her.
Even after I pushed her away.
It was her.
I spend the rest of the drive trying to draw her into conversation. Every attempt I make is met with stilted, one-word responses.
She won’t even look at me.
As soon as I pull into the parking lot and cut the engine, she jerks the handle and jumps out of the car. I swear under my breath that she won’t even wait for me. By the time I slam the driver’s side door closed and click the locks, she’s already yanking open the glass door and slipping inside the building.
I hasten my pace to catch up with her, even though it’s fairly obvious that I’m the one she’s running from. By the time I make it to the lobby, there’s no sign of her. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I shove through the stairwell door and take the concrete stairs two at a time. Once I arrive on the third floor, I barrel through the metal door and burst into the hallway. I grind to a halt and glance down the long stretch where our apartments are located.
The space is empty.
Is it possible that I missed her?
Just as I take a step, prepared to bang on her door if necessary, the elevator dings and the metal contraption slides open. The moment Carina steps into the hallway, her gaze locks on mine.
Her eyes widen as she stumbles to a halt. She blinks a few times as if she can’t believe I’ve materialized in front of her like a specter.
“Ford.” Her voice is breathless as if she’s the one who just ran up three flights of stairs instead of me.
“The one and only,” I say calmly.
Her teeth scrape across her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I just want to be alone right now.”
It’s so fucking tempting to reach out and drag her into my arms. Instead, I keep my hands to myself. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. “Just tell me what’s going on, because I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
She glances away as color drains from her cheeks until they turn ashen. I swallow up some of the distance between us and drop my voice. “Is it because we’re sleeping together and if they actually get married again, we’re back to being stepsiblings?”
Something shifts in her eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it is.”
Before I can pull any more information from her, she darts around me.
Instead of giving chase, I plow a hand through my hair and watch as she shoves the key in the door before sending one final glance my way and stepping inside the apartment.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carina
I close the door behind me and lean against it before squeezing my eyes tightly shut and sucking in a deep, calming breath. The entire way home, I tried to wrangle all of these out-of-control emotions back into submission, but Ford’s presence made it impossible. It’s hard to think straight when he’s nearby. The heat of his gaze seared my skin every time it slid over me. The more questions he fired off, the more I shut down.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been thrown off by Mom’s sudden appearance. She might have walked away from Crawford without so much as a second glance, but it’s obvious that he hasn’t moved on. He brings her up in conversation any chance he gets.
It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard.
How doesn’t he realize that she’s using him?
He’s nothing more than a safety net.
I wish to hell that she’d stay away.
Why does she have to ruin everything?
Well…maybe not everything, because if she hadn’t caught Crawford’s eye in the first place, he wouldn’t be in my life.
When the going got tough, instead of trying to work out their issues, she took off.
I’d love to believe that my mother has changed, but I don’t think that’s the case. My guess is that she’ll stick around for a while and then, when he doesn’t shower her with enough attention, she’ll get fed up and leave.
She’s selfish that way.
A prick of guilt hits me for thinking that about my own parent. Unfortunately, it’s the truth. What I’ve come to realize is that my feelings for Pamela are complicated. They always have been. Part of me loves her dearly. The woman is my mother. But there’s also another part that sees her for the person she truly is. A self-centered narcissist. She had me when she was seventeen and struggled to make ends meet until Crawford swept into our lives and saved us.
Instead of being grateful, she treats him like a puppy she can’t shake loose. Everything in Pamela’s life revolves around Pamela. I’ve learned over the years to accept her for the way she is (hello therapy) and stop expecting her to be the kind of mother I’ve always longed for.