Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
What the fuck was going on?
"I can't really meet right now. Because now everyone in my life is involved, and I am locked behind steel doors and bullet-resistant glass with full-time bodyguards."
Rationally, I knew I shouldn't have been thinking such things, but there was no denying that my pride took a bit of a hit at the term 'full-time bodyguard,' worrying that was maybe all she thought of me as, that I was just some pawn in some game I hadn't even known I had been involved in.
"Well, yeah, I hope it is enough too. No, there's no way I can go back there now. Because I don't want to die over this. Yes, I know. I know. Yeah. If you need more from me, then, yeah. Okay. I can do it if I have to. Yeah, I hope I don't either. Text me when you get it. No, don't call. Okay. Alright. Bye."
I had no fucking idea what was going on, but I understood a few things right in that moment.
One, this explained the false notes I had always heard in her stories, but couldn't seem to understand why they might be there.
Two, she was in way over her fucking head.
And three, I didn't care how important whatever this shit was, there was no way in hell I was ever going to let her get involved in it again.
"Alright. It's alright," she consoled herself, taking a few deep breaths, exhaling them loudly, then yanking the door fully open.
And letting out a shriek at seeing me there.
"I think we need to have a little talk."
EIGHT
Gemma
I had felt myself blanch when the phone had rung, knowing who it was, feeling dread well up inside me. Then the guilt at feeling dread. It wasn't his fault that I wanted my mind on lighter things, happier things, things that involved Lincoln who was no longer going to fight what was blooming between us.
I had answered despite my trepidation, knowing it would be rare for me to get a chance wholly alone to talk, and that it was all way too much to try to text.
I can't say I expected a little sympathy, but I found myself a little deflated when I got none.
I had maybe even reiterated how dangerous all this was for me, only to be reminded how very inconsequential I was in the grand scheme of things.
He always had that ability.
To make me feel incredibly small.
I wanted to resent him for it, but needed to remind myself that he was right, that there were greater things than me, that sometimes sacrifice was necessary to bring about a better world.
In the end, hanging up, I felt deflated, wrung out, a bit empty and sad and sorry for myself as I made my way back out to the hall, ready to put on a mask I really didn't want to have to wear anymore. Least of all in front of Lincoln.
As fate would have it, though, that wouldn't happen anyway.
Because he was standing right there.
The look in his eye said everything I needed to know.
He'd been listening.
There was no way I could talk myself out of this.
It was finally, finally time to tell someone the whole truth.
I expected to feel panic at the idea, but instead, all I felt was a surge of relief so strong I was almost surprised it didn't bring me to my knees right there.
"Gem," Lincoln said, the firmness gone from his voice, replaced with something like concern as he arm shot out, hand grabbing my arm, holding tight. Like maybe he thought I was about to pass out. "Hey, I'm not mad at you," he added. "I just want to know what is going on."
I pulled against his grip, sliding my hand until it was holding his, pulling him with me back into my room, closing the door, leaning back against it.
"I planned to tell you the truth eventually," I told him, searching his face for doubt, but all I found there was confusion, concern, and maybe a tiny sprinkling of hurt at realizing I had been lying to him from the beginning. "Once it was all settled, I was going to tell you. And then everyone else."
"Right now, I need you to tell me."
"Are you going to tell everyone else?"
"Maybe," he admitted, and I had to appreciate him not lying to me even if I hadn't shown him the same respect.
"Okay," I said, nodding. "Well, it started my last semester in college..."
I had always been big on going to events on or around campus. Things I believed in. Things I was passionate about. Green rallies, strikes over a living wage, animal rights meetings. I wasn't sure how much good we actually ever did, but I figured that it was never a waste of time to dedicate yourself to improving awareness among the population with regard to important, pressing topics. And it was always nice to be around like-minded people, those who gave a damn about the world around us, about each other. It seemed rarer than ever these days, and I liked to cling to it where I found it.