Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
When his head snaps around so he can look down at me, I can’t shake the feeling of dread that trickles into my veins and pumps through my body. What does this mean?
Before I can form the words to ask, he extends a hand. “Come on. Get up. You don’t belong down there.”
“But…” I give him my hand, letting him pull me to my feet when I can’t find the strength myself.
“I already told you. Nobody touches what’s mine, and nobody threatens it, either.” His jaw is clenched so tight, I’m surprised the words can make it out. “Do you doubt me?”
Do I? I don’t know what to think. “… I don’t know,” I admit. I don’t know anything. What is he doing this for? Is this part of his game? What could he possibly have to gain from it? What is in any of this for him? I want so badly to ask, but I’m too overwhelmed, shaken. I’m grateful he stood up for me, but I’m certain Dad will not give up that easily. Not if he’s as desperate as he clearly is. I wish I could believe all my troubles are over.
Especially since it’s Tucker of all people promising to end them. Since when can I trust him?
But at the end of the day, he’s not the one trying to sell me for money. He’s the one who took care of me last night, brought me here, and kept me safe. When I look at it that way, it’s pretty obvious.
He’s the lesser of two evils. Yet another unpredictable turn of events.
23
TUCKER
“What would you like? We have cereal, oatmeal.” Closing the cabinet door, I go to the fridge. “There are eggs in here, and I think there are waffles in the freezer. We have bread and avocado if you want toast. And some smoothies, too. Yogurt.”
Looking over my shoulder at where Maya sits at the counter, all I find is nervousness. Her hands are folded tight enough that her knuckles stand out under her skin. “Whatever you’re having, I guess. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.” She glances around the room, taking it all in. She looks small and unsure of herself.
It’s a little too late to worry about me going to trouble. Somehow, I manage to stop myself before that comes out. She feels bad enough already, and I don’t want to make it worse. I sort of sprung all this on her, but then how was I supposed to know I’d come out of the shower and hear her begging her father—her own father, for Christ’s sake—not to make her marry a stranger after everything he put her through?
I’m an asshole, but I’m not a complete fucking asshole. And I guess it pisses me off more than I thought it did, somebody getting hurt by a person who is supposed to take care of them. I honestly didn’t know there were people like him in the world, and I thought I’d seen everything.
“I could go for a big plate of eggs and toast,” I decide, pulling the carton from the fridge.
“Don’t tell me you cook.” For the first time today, her lips twitch. She’s trying to hold back a grin. That’s a good sign, I guess. Until now, she’s been kind of a zombie, right down to the way I had to take her by the hand and lead her down to the kitchen. Otherwise, she might’ve stayed in my room, frozen in shock. That fucking bastard. What else has he put her through?
“I can do the basics. I’m not totally useless.” Really, this is pretty much the extent of my culinary prowess, but I leave that part out as I pull a pan from under the counter and take the butter dish with me to the stove.
“Did you really mean it?” she asks while my back is turned. Maybe it’s easier for her to talk to me when I’m not looking at her. “About me staying here? Did you mean that?”
I sort of spoke before I thought, but that prick needed to be put in his place. Now that I think about it, why would I send her home, anyway? Now that I know what it’s like for her there. Only I get to play with her, dammit. “Yeah, I meant it. This is where you live now.”
“Your parents are going to be okay with it?”
I hadn’t really thought much about them, either. “My parents will understand.”
“But—”
I cut her off with a raised hand before reaching for a fork to beat the eggs. “Enough, okay? It’s too early for so many questions.”
She heaves a sigh before muttering, “I was just going to ask what I’m supposed to wear to school today.”
Right, considering she’s wearing my shirt along with a pair of sweatpants cinched as tight as they can go, but still ready to fall off her ass. “Maybe we can stop by Briggs’s house. Do you think you could borrow something from Wren?”