Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I let her have a little distance, not wanting her to catch sight of me following her but keeping her within my sight. She walks down the beach a ways and sits, staring out at the ocean.
The urge to go to her is overwhelming, but I can't help but wonder what she's doing here. It's a public space, and she's allowed to go where she likes, but somehow, it feels like more. Like she's waiting for something. Or someone.
Then, as if she senses me watching her, she turns and looks directly at me. And even though we're standing more than a hundred feet apart, it feels like her eyes are boring into mine. I want to rush to her, consume every atom of her, and I don't even know her name.
So I can't. Fuck! Before I can second guess myself and the thin tether I'm holding on my control snaps, I turn and stride back to my car.
When I pull onto the road, I risk one glance at her and see that she's still staring in my direction.
Fuck.
"I'll see you soon, angel."
I circle the block once and park in the back row of an adjacent lot, where I can still see her but she'd have to strain to pick me out of the crowd of cars. She spends some more time on the beach, walking, with her golden hair blowing in the wind, seemingly lost in thought. After about an hour, she heads back towards her vehicle, a small red Honda parked right in front of Sage and Salt.
It's not too late, and the sun is just starting to set, so I know Leon and Marissa are closing up inside. Both of them are keyholders, and the shop usually runs without my intervention most days. I watch my angel load her backpack into her car and slide in behind the wheel. I have no idea where she's headed, but I'm not done with her yet. I need to see more.
I start the engine as she pulls out of the parking lot, and follow her at a safe distance. We drive around town for a few minutes. After a while, she makes a right onto a main street, and then another left. Wherever she's headed, it's on the outskirts of the town, where the wealthiest residents live. The houses here are old but grand, and a little more secluded.
Eventually, she pulls into a driveway and parks. I keep driving and then double back, passing her house at a much slower speed. It's a Victorian, blue with a white trim. So she is a local or at least someone who moved here recently. How in the hell have I never seen her before?
I make a note of the address and pull around the block, parking out of view of the house but still close enough to see if the lights come on. There are no other cars, and I'm struck by a jolt of alarm that she’s staying in this enormous house all on her own. It isn't safe, even in a town like Cape May. She needs someone to watch over her.
Someone like me.
"This is insane," I mutter but don't turn my car around. The angel is mine. It might take me a minute to convince her and to show her just how well I can take care of her, but she'll soon see the light.
3
ALINA
The sunset colors the sky like fire, and even though it's almost dark and I should probably go inside, I don't move. I don't want to miss a single moment of the view. I inhale deeply, taking the salt air into my lungs while the wind caresses my cheeks.
I wonder if Mom would have liked it here. I don't even know if she would’ve seen the ocean in her lifetime. The thought makes my stomach clench, and I swallow the lump in my throat, but the tears that spring to my eyes won't stop coming.
When I was a child, my mother was everything to me. She was smart, funny, and fierce. Even though my father had left when I was young, my mom's job as a hotel maid kept us afloat. Everything was fine. Until it wasn't.
My mother had grown distant. At first, I thought it was because she was working so hard. But one day, when I came home from school and found her lying in a puddle of her own vomit, I realized something was seriously wrong.
That night, when I found her motionless in the tub and called for help, I learned the truth. My mother was an addict. She stole from her job to feed her habit and was finally caught. Fired.
At fourteen years old, I had already been babysitting since I was old enough, with a little nest egg tucked away. I would have given it to her in a heartbeat. But instead, she tried to steal it, and I hid it. She yelled at me, screamed that I was a thief and that I didn't have the right to take anything from her, even though I'd earned every penny.