Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
She stared at my chest, holding her own in posture, but shame filled her eyes. “You know what I would do,” she whispered. “She made me promise not to tell you. He didn’t rape her. Had he … I would not have kept her secret.”
“That’s fucking great, Jess. You’ve just kept it a secret that she’s in LA, dating some guy I know nothing about, and completely defenseless.”
Her eyes shifted upward. “Not defenseless. I’ve been training her.”
I squinted. “Training her? What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t. You’re her aunt. Period.”
Her jaw flexed along with her hands. “You taught her how to punch and run. How to use a bottle of pepper spray.”
“Because that’s what I told Ryn I would teach her. That’s it. A normal college student with a normal upbringing. Everything we didn’t have.”
“Well, after her incident, I decided she deserved a normal adult life. A safe adult life. I decided no man would ever pin her to the ground … would ever leave the kind of scars that never heal.”
Emotion crushed my chest. It wasn’t the life I wanted for Livy. “How long?”
“Three months.”
“That’s not enough.” I shook my head.
“I’m not done.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “How much? What have you trained her to do?”
Jessica tipped her chin up, lips in a firm line. “I’ve trained her to bleed.”
“Fuck … Jess …” I winced thinking about my little girl experiencing the things I experienced, the things Jessica experienced. Even if it was a fraction of it, it was too much.
Jessica tipped her chin up another inch, shoulders back, reminding me of everything she’d survived in her life. “I trained her to get up. I trained her to feel the pain and channel it into one thing …”
“Her next breath,” I whispered the words that were repeated to us over and over.
She returned several slow nods. “This feeling …”
I shook my head. “It’s probably nothing.”
“But what if it’s something?”
“You mean Slade?”
Jessica shrugged. “Slade. Stefan Hoover. The house that burned down. The cause of the fire was not determined for certain.”
“You think it was meant for Livy?”
“No,” Jess said as a knee-jerk reaction to keep me from losing my shit. “Maybe.”
I grabbed my phone. “She’s at Slade’s.”
“You’re tracking her?”
I frowned at Jessica and her stupid question. “I bought her a new phone after the fire. Of course I’m tracking her. I track her Jeep too. If I could have gotten away with chipping her, I would have.” I called Livy and put the phone on speaker.
“Hey, Dad,” she answered on the third ring.
“Livy. How are you?”
“Um … fine. Why? What’s up? Is everything okay?”
I listened for odd inflections in her voice, strain, unusual hesitation. “Yeah. Everything is fine. Just wanted to call my daughter.”
“O … kay. Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Absolutely.” I shifted my gaze from the screen to Jessica, her face was unmoving—focused on every word, just like mine. “What are you doing?”
“Slade and I just got home from surfing.”
“Sounds fun. Do you surf with your friends anymore, or are you glued to a guy?”
“I surfed with the girls last week.”
“When are you driving home for Christmas break?”
She paused, hesitated. My eyes locked with Jessica’s again.
“Um … I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, when is your last day of classes?”
“Um … Friday.”
“Great. So I’ll see you when? Saturday?”
“I’ll let you know when I check with Slade.”
“Why do you need to check with him? Is he coming home with you? Surely he’ll be spending Christmas with his family.”
“Yeah, uh … I’m not sure yet. We haven’t really discussed it.”
“It’s a week away and you haven’t discussed it? That’s not like you.”
“He might have to work over break. And if that’s the case, then I might stay here with him.”
“What do you mean stay there with him? Miss Christmas with your family?”
“Well, maybe. It’s just one Christmas. You’ll get invited to Aunt Jess’s, right?”
“Right,” I said slowly.
“But I mean … nothing’s set in stone. I’ll let you know when I can.”
“Yeah. You do that. Let us know when Slade knows his work schedule.”
“Totally. Bye, Dad. Love you.”
“Liv …”
“Yeah?”
I wanted to say something. The need clawed at my gut, sending a physical pain shooting up my chest. I wanted to tell her I knew what happened to her—almost happened to her—and how sorry I was for not being there, for not doing more to protect her.
“Love you too.” I pressed End.
“We need to go to LA.”
“Me. Not we.”
“Jackson …”
“We don’t even know what we’re looking for yet. And maybe it’s nothing. I’ll go check things out and let you know if I need anything.”
On a slow exhale, she relinquished a slight nod. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”
“Did you tell her about you?”
She nodded. “The PG-13 version.”
“When you made her bleed, did she …” I rubbed my hand over my mouth. It killed me to ask it, but it also killed me to not know.