Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Heston stands, dusts off his hands from the dirt, and turns his attention to Paige.
“You’re stepping on the flowers.” His tone is light and airy, instead of irritable and angry. It’s completely abnormal, considering what just happened.
Her face pulls down, tears streaming down her cheeks. She turns red, trying to keep it together, but sobs wrack her chest. Heston thumbs his bleeding lip and walks into the kitchen. He’s calm and quiet, like what just took place didn’t happen. It’s scaring the shit out of me. Is he bipolar?
I push myself up and straighten my shirt. Heston is…off.
Whistling, he walks around the island and grabs his briefcase by the couch. Paige shuffles back as he walks toward us, and I just stare, like I’m watching a monster climb out from under my bed and make himself at home. Stopping in front of me before he walks out, he kisses me on the forehead.
“I’ll be home soon.”
After he leaves, I look at Paige. She stands frozen. I can’t possibly yell at her for telling her dad what happened. He deserved to know. I didn’t tell him because I knew this would happen.
“Come on, honey. Let’s get you settled.” With my hand on her lower back, I usher her to upstairs.
Stepping into her room, she sits on her bed, her eyes swollen and red.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Dad was going to do that!”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I got in trouble and Heston grabbed my face and told me not to disgrace the family.”
Sighing, I sit next to her, placing my hand on my cheekbone. I wonder what Cam would have done if he knew what happened yesterday. Wait, why do I care about that?
He and I may not see eye to eye, but we share something that pulls us together and makes us care about one another to a point, I suppose. We may not be together, but he will always see Paige and me as his; he always has and always will. When we were together and someone disrespected me, he would make a scene and even hurt whoever said or did something, which made him a hypocrite because he hit me behind closed doors.
After talking with Paige, I walk back outside to inspect my flowers that got trampled. They look rough, the bright pink petals already dark and trying to close. Squatting down, I hold one in my hand. Poor things. Something moves out of the corner of my eye and my head snaps upright. It’s Tenly. She’s wearing a white summer dress and sandals, and her is hair down. I don’t think I’ve seen her wear anything outside of athletic gear. I notice she’s carrying a pan of food in her hands, walking down the road in the direction of our new neighbor. I squat back down, like I’m looking at my flowers, but I keep a watchful eye. She’s now at his door knocking. When he opens the door, my eyes widen in awe. He’s shirtless, wearing shorts that sit just below his hips, showing off that V thing healthy men have. His big frame fills the doorway.
He smiles and nods, taking the plate. Tenly twirls her hair around a finger and looks down at her feet. That’s a first. Shoving his door open wider, Tenly walks past him into the house. As he moves to close it behind her, his head snaps up, and our eyes meet. I hold my breath, snapping my attention back to my flowers. I’m breathless, flustered even, not knowing if I should play with my flowers, go inside, or text Owen. The man has moved into the house of horror and has every woman on the block ready to sin.
26
Three days later
Laying in my bed, I look at the dark ceiling, the moon blanketing the room in a low light. Heston sleeps beside me, letting out a little snore every few minutes. Things have changed drastically between us the last three days. I don’t know if it’s because I called off the engagement or because I suggested therapy, but we haven’t had sex or held hands, and there’s a negative energy hanging between us. The kind that brews in the sky right before a hurricane. I don’t know what we’re trying to salvage at this point; it’s clear we’re done. This is over and one of us is going to have to admit it. Knowing him, it’ll have to be me. Huffing, I stand up and walk to the window, my eyes sweep the moon and the houses that sleep at four in the morning. The murder house lights turn on, catching my attention, so I cross my arms and watch. A woman with dark hair rushes out the front door in a small top and jean shorts. Getting into a yellow beetle, she leaves with the headlights turned off. That car looks familiar. I’ve seen it in the neighborhood. He’s been here days and already sleeping his way through the neighborhood. I can’t help but wonder how he’s living in that house? Maybe I should introduce myself? I’m drawn to this man, curious about him more than I should be. I’ve come to notice an increase in my pulse just thinking about him. I want, no, I need, to know more about him.