Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Except I find clothes laid out for me. And the sheets, blankets, and pillows are gone.
What the hell?
I could scream. I could also cry. This is so beyond crossing the line. But I don’t have the energy for any of that, and I’m still in my underwear. I pull on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt before I shuffle to the steps like a zombie, intent on parking myself on the couch for the rest of the day.
Finn eyes me carefully as I lurch into the main room. “Feeling better?”
“No.” I move to storm the couch, but he steps in my way. “Please move.”
“You need food and coffee.”
I squint at him. “That’s true.”
“Nothing else is going to make you feel better. There’s a diner not far from here I really like. We’ll sit in a corner booth. You’ll start to feel human by the time we’re finished.”
I frown and look longingly at the couch. The glorious, beautiful couch. Nothing looks more perfect in all the world.
He’s got a point though. I haven’t been this hungover ever in my entire life, but lying around the apartment isn’t going to make me feel better.
“Fine. Food and coffee. But I’m not going far.” I don’t add that I’m pretty sure I’ll puke if it’s a long trip.
Finn ushers me outside. It’s a cool, beautiful morning. There’s already a car waiting for us at the curb like he knew I was going to give in. Or like he was going to drag me out whether I liked it or not. The car takes us to a diner called Nino’s and I barely make it to one of those super bouncy seats. The coffee is hot, strong, and the waitress refills it without me having to ask. Finn orders eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, French toast, and waffles. We don’t speak, which is good, because I don’t have the brain power to form coherent thoughts at the moment.
Eating and drinking helps. Not a lot, but some. Finn picks at the bacon but mostly watches me curiously. I try my best to ignore him, but I keep thinking about throwing an empty bottle at his head. A part of me wishes I had been sober enough to brain him. It’s just my luck that I missed.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asks finally like he’s bringing up the weather.
I slowly put down my fork. “I was hoping we wouldn’t.”
“You can’t avoid it forever.”
“I was really hoping last night was a bad dream.”
He leans forward. “Do you feel like it was just a dream?”
“No,” I mutter, stabbing more eggs and shoving them into my mouth. The food is mediocre, but it’s plentiful and greasy, which is exactly what I need right now. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He laughs like he’s honestly surprised. “Because we’re one and the same.”
“Bullshit.”
“You know that’s true. Look at yourself. Look at me. I know how you got those scars, and you know how I got mine.”
I study him, frowning. My head’s throbbing, but it’s not as bad. The Advil’s kicking in for sure. I drink coffee, trying to think of how to answer that. But instead, another memory flits to the surface, only a flash of it. Shane holding me by the hair, shoving my face into snow, laughing as he does it. Mouthy bitch got me in trouble. I shake my head to get rid of it, but I swear I can still feel ice up my nose.
“Let’s say that’s true. Why the hell would I let you hurt my family? Why wouldn’t I just call the cops?”
“Because you’re going to help me.”
“No, I’m not.” I stare at him, bewildered. I wish I didn’t feel so terrible. “Stop being stupid. This is crazy.”
“It’s really not.” He tilts his head, lips pressed together in thought. “At first, I wanted to find out how I could use you. I wanted to see how I could hurt you. I figured, since we were getting married, I might as well start with the most convenient member of the Flanagan family.”
I blink rapidly. “That’s why you hired me?”
“I had some ideas. I considered drowning you slowly in a bathtub. Or tying you up in the kitchen and cutting you until you bled to death. Not very creative, I know.”
My heart races and I drop my fork. “Are you joking? It’s not funny.”
“But then I realized you must hate them as much as I do. Why punish someone who’s just like me? There’s no justice in that.”
I shake my head rapidly. “Justice? This isn’t justice. This is a nightmare.”
“They deserve it, Caroline. You know they do.” He leans in closer. “How did you get those scars?”
I open my mouth. I want to tell him to mind his own fucking business, but my mother’s face comes to mind, the way her lips twitched when I tried to get her to talk about this exact thing yesterday. How she’s never been able to admit it.