Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
“Let me bring you soup,” she suggests, her voice hopeful. “It’s been too long that you’ve been sick. Let me check on you.”
“I’ll see you soon, Mama, but I can’t see you right now.” There’s a hesitation on her end. Silence is all I’m given and inside I’m filled with shame. So much so that tears prick the back of my eyes. How? I don’t know. They’re sore and red rimmed from days on end of sobbing. I’ve never felt so weak and helpless. So utterly fucking useless and pathetic.
“Are you angry with me?” my mother asks quietly and I have to gather my composure.
“No, no, Mama,” I say as quickly as I can.
“Is this about Travis?” It’s after she says his name that I can tell my mother is crying. It fucking kills me. I hate this. I hate all of it.
“No, Mama. Please. I just …” I want to tell her a sliver of the truth. I fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have. But instead I tell her, “I miss you, Mama, and love you. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”
“Why can’t I see you now?” As my mother questions me, a low, steady beep comes from the window. It startles me at first; it seems like anything and everything does now. It takes a moment for me to realize it’s a truck. They’re doing construction outside like Declan told me they would. Aria’s words come back to me; she said it would be the perfect time to run.
“I have to go, Mama,” I tell her to try to get her off the phone before I say things I shouldn’t.
“You would tell me if you were hurt or if someone was hurting you, wouldn’t you?” She sniffles on the other end although with how muffled it is, it seems she’s trying to hide it from me.
“Yes,” I lie to her. “Of course I would.”
“You’re okay?” she asks again, as if she doesn’t believe me and I wish she would. I wish she would be content with the lies.
“I’m just a little sick and I don’t want to leave the bed.” She carries on for a while, poking and prodding and I continue to lie to her. Over and over until she lets me hang up the phone. I’m not lying when I tell her I love her, though, and I hope I’m not lying when I say I’ll see her soon.
My words stay with me even after the conversation is over: I’m just a little sick and I don’t want to leave the bed.
When I hang up, I realize how true those words are. I don’t want to leave the bed. I don’t want to risk seeing his family. I don’t want to risk walking down the corridor and remembering what happened in the room with the tub. I can barely breathe thinking about it now. As I lower myself to the mattress, I realize just how paralyzing this situation is.
All I want is to stay right here until Declan comes home and tells me what I can do. Because if I don’t wait for him … all I keep thinking is that I don’t want to die.
DECLAN
The relief I felt when I checked the security system and saw she didn’t touch the money and she was still there in my bed waiting for me leaves me the moment I open the bedroom door and get a glimpse of the state she’s in.
She didn’t take the money. She didn’t run. But my Braelynn is a shell of herself.
At the sound of the door closing, her wide, red-rimmed eyes peer up at me. Swallowing thickly, I push down the thought that resonates the most. Propped up on her side, her body’s stiff as the silence settles between us. I fucking hate myself for what I’ve done to her.
“My mother called,” she tells me as I unbutton the collar of my shirt. I can barely look at her as she tattles on herself. “We talked briefly but I didn’t tell her anything.”
I hum a response and then pull my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor. As I kick my shoes off by their heels, I face her and a small smile forms on its own from the sight of her staring up at me.
Wanting approval, from me. She fucking needs it.
“You can talk to your mother whenever you’d like … I trust you.”
Her throat tightens as she swallows and then explains, “She wants to see me.”
With one knee on the bed, I pause before giving her an inch of freedom. “If you want to see her, Nate can take you whenever and wherever you’d like.”
I expect her to be relieved, maybe even excited but the blood drains from her face.
Under the baggy sweater, my Braelynn appears so small and fragile. Her lips are no longer the dark red that tempts me, her eyes carry that color instead. And it shames me.