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)
“I love you! I’m going to fix this!”
BRAELYNN
Declan’s words repeat in the forefront of my mind, over and over, as I’m taken to the police station in the back of a cruiser. The smells of fresh coffee and stale fast food can’t distract me from what he just said.
I love you. I’m going to fix this.
Emotions suffocate me to the point where even if I wanted to respond to the officers, I couldn’t physically do it. I’ve spiraled, I’ve hit the hardest low I’ve ever felt, and yet…all I can think is that he loves me. Does he really love me? It wouldn’t make sense for him to say it for any other reason…would it?
With my hands trembling in my lap, I hold them tighter and my body sways in the back of the car as we roll over a speed bump. My mind fills with memories of Declan. I can’t stop thinking of his mouth on mine, his eyes, or his voice. I don’t know how I’ll survive with the thoughts that swim my head, much less how we’ll get through this.
My gaze shifts to the front seat. To eyes that stare back at me. One of the cops is short and stocky, the other a thin woman with tired lines around her eyes. As time drones on, they talk shortly to each other. Neither of them says anything to me.
My thoughts are still racing by the time they park in the back of the station. The female cop pulls me out of the back.
With my arms pulled back and the metal biting into my wrists, it’s far less than comfortable. She mutters something to her partner as he opens the large metal door and holds it so we can enter the station. Immediately, I’m assaulted with bright lights and stale white painted brick walls.
My heart races as I realize no one else is there. Thump, thump. It just doesn’t feel right.
“Why aren’t we going in through the front?” I dare to ask, speaking for the first time.
The female cop doesn’t answer my question. It doesn’t make sense, though. Why wouldn’t they bring me through the front to the desk.
“I want to talk to my lawyer. His name is Michael McHale.”
The other cop chuckles, deep and masculine. My heart races, faster than it did in the cruiser or in the motel. I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life, but that cop laughing because I want my lawyer scares the fuck out of me.
It’s sobering and my reality comes in a sharper focus as our footsteps echo in the empty hall.
They pick up the pace and I follow, doing everything I can to stay calm. We’re heading toward the front, I think, and it’s loud out there. People talk over each other with cops barking orders and people arguing.
It’s an odd sense of relief that floods me, but it’s short lived as we never made it that far.
We stop outside a metal door well before we get to the lobby. He opens it and she leads me in. Thump, thump.
It’s like the hospital all over again.
“I’d like to talk to my lawyer,” I repeat calmly and once again I’m ignored.
“Stand here.” Metal clinks and she uncuffs me. I swing my hands in front of me and rub at my wrists. Both arms are sore, though it wasn’t long ago when I was cuffed at the motel.
“Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” She takes me by the arm and sits me down in a metal chair behind a metal table. One by one she cuffs my hands to the table. They’re too tight and the cold metal bites into my skin. She checks them one more time, then turns to leave.
“I want my lawyer.”
They both ignore me, and the door shuts tight.
I’m alone.
Fear floods in. I was mostly numb in the car, hell, I was numb before Declan walked through the door. But now I feel it all. And everything is breaking.
Every bit of me is breaking down and filled with regret. I wish I could just go back.
He said he loves me, and he said he’ll fix it, but how? How is he supposed to fix anything? Hours ago I would have sworn he was going to kill me.
It’s all just too late.
It’s fucking cold in the room and the chill of it brings me back to the here and now. To a fresh new nightmare. The cops said things to me at the motel.
Conspiracy to commit murder.
Aiding.
Abetting.
I’m being charged, but…I don’t understand why. Someone was supposed to explain it to me. I should be able to call my lawyer. I nearly call out again, demanding to speak to my lawyer. But I bite my tongue. They’re watching. I know they are.
More emotions pile in and I find my hands shaking. I swallow again and again, not wanting to cry. I don’t have control over my body, but I can keep myself from crying. Just barely.