Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Unheard.”
“Preferred.”
“Referred.”
My grin darkened. “Absurd.”
She barked out another laugh. “Just like this poem has become.”
“This was a poem?”
We were down to my suitcase. She knelt and unzipped it, grabbing the first of my books. “One of the worst I’ve ever heard.”
“And that feels appropriate for what life might’ve been as Mrs. Grundle the fifth.”
We were still laughing when my room was back in order.
After placing my suitcase in the closet, Palma came over and sat on the end of my bed. We both fell silent. The air in the room shifted, the lighthearted moment was done.
I shifted to sit on the other end and looked at my lap. “He comes here sometimes. You should know that.”
“Comes here?”
I lifted my head. “He sleeps with me.”
Her eyes widened, jerking down to the bed we were both sitting on.
“Not—” I touched the cover. “Not like sex or anything. Not like that. Just—just sleeping.”
“Oh.” She relaxed but continued frowning at the bed. “Do you love him?”
I made a choking sound, hearing words that plagued me. I shook my head. “I . . . He’s family.” Because it was that simple, right?
I didn’t tell her how I ordered him to stay away from me, then wrapped my legs around him the next time I saw him.
“But you . . .” She looked away before turning back. A new determination was over her face. “You don’t love him like you love Levi.”
I stared at her.
She added, “Levi’s like family to you too. Right? Like a brother.”
I couldn’t respond, fearful where she was going next.
“It’s not the same with him. Creighton doesn’t look at you like that.”
“He can’t love.”
She frowned.
“He doesn’t have the capability to love, but yes, he’s obsessed with me.”
“And you’re . . .” She hesitated before reaching forward to take my hand in hers. “He’s obsessed with you while you’re . . .”
She trailed off when I began shaking my head. Fervently.
Pain sliced through me, at almost hearing the words I couldn’t admit to myself.
“I-I can’t. He’d need to be a different person. He’s a monster, and he’ll never not be a monster.”
“He’s not a monster to you.”
No. He wasn’t.
“I think you’re wrong.”
I frowned at her.
She let go of my hand after giving it one last squeeze, the ends of her mouth lifting up in a small grin. A hesitant grin. “I think if he was a different person, you wouldn’t have the feelings you do for him. Because then he wouldn’t be your Creighton.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
My Creighton.
Chapter Thirty-One
Blake
I was waiting for him the next night. I left the light off but moved to the chair in the far corner so when he opened the door, I could see him, but he couldn’t yet see me. Watching him ghost inside, moving silently and lithely, I would never get over how he could move. Among everything, Creighton had some innate athleticism that in another world, he could’ve used to become a professional athlete in some sport. He’d been too vicious for football or basketball. Coaches knew not to give him a ball for baseball. Hockey was the best fit, but when he learned how to use his stick as a knife, he was quickly taken off the ice. I never heard those stories from Creighton himself, but the other foster kids loved to tell them at times. There were a lot of stories about Creighton. All of them had the same theme. He was dangerous and deadly.
And yet, I hadn’t been able to get Palma’s words out of my head.
I needed him to be a different man in order to be with him, but she was right. He would not be the man I . . . My heart palpitated. I hadn’t argued against what Palma said, but acknowledging and saying those words to myself meant that I needed to accept what I felt for Creighton.
A tremor went through my hands.
I still wasn’t ready. Not yet, but we needed to talk.
I couldn’t stand aside any longer in this new war he was embroiled in. When he came into my room that night, I waited until he was standing over my bed, looking at the body pillow I’d put under my blankets.
I moved fast, knowing I only had the element of surprise for this to work.
I had a pair of handcuffs opened and in my hand, and as his back was turned to me, I pounced. I slapped one of the handcuffs around his hand and used my body to propel him onto my bed and lifted his arm so I could slap the other handcuff around my bedpost. As he lay there under my weight, momentarily surprised, I scrambled to do the same with his other hand. By that time, as I was lifting his other hand, Creighton had caught on to my intentions. I expected him to fight. He didn’t. He let me lift his arm up, and he watched, almost amused as I finished the second pair of handcuffs.