Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I repeat to myself over and over again.
How does Kade live with himself?
What would Kade do if he were me right now?
He would go out of his way to be seen in town, wouldn’t he? He would dare people to look him in the eye and tell him what the hell they wanted.
That’s who I need to be. It doesn’t matter if I’m drained. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know who I am right now. It only matters that I have a role to play, and I’ll play it. Or else.
That thought gets determination flowing through my veins once I reach the first floor. The sound of Mom’s voice makes me cringe. She’s on the phone in her office, and she doesn’t bother to keep her voice down. Her own damage control, I guess. Cleaning up Kade’s mess the way he cleaned up mine. It’s almost ironic.
Not that she’d laugh if she knew.
I doubt she hears anything over the sound of her own voice, but I tiptoe out of the house anyway, then rush to my car and jump in. It feels like I cleared the first hurdle. It just sucks that there are so many more to go.
One thing at a time. I take a deep breath, roll my shoulders back, then start toward town while snowflakes drift lazily from a sky the color of slate.
It’s amazing, but there was a moment last night when Kade’s big reveal felt like the worst thing that could happen. After such a big bombshell, I could have dug my heels in and insisted on staying with Mom. But then I would’ve ended up married to a monster.
A tiny whimper escapes me, and I sound like a wounded animal. Don’t think about it. Bury it. If only it were that simple.
Things are about as busy in town as they usually are on a Sunday morning. People chatting outside shops, having brunch, the usual stuff. I hate feeling so paranoid. I’m sure they aren’t all talking about my family. And I’m sure nobody knows yet that Jackson went MIA after he was supposed to take me home. No one knows anything yet. I’m safe.
But for how long?
No! If I was strong enough to lift that lamp and bash in Jackson’s skull last night, I’m strong enough to handle this without shattering. I have to be.
As I expect, the weight of so many passing stares is heavy once I’ve parked and stepped out onto the street. My pulse flutters as I walk down to the coffee shop—I definitely need the caffeine hit today.
A woman exits as I enter. She holds the door for me, and I murmur my thanks while pretending I don’t notice the way she stares. So far, so good.
I hear the whispers, though, once I’m waiting in line. But thankfully, as far as they’re concerned, my big moment was ruined by a filthy Bishop who is always getting into trouble. I guess having them look at me as a victim is better than being called a murderer.
I twist the ring on my finger without looking down at it, trying to contain my nerves. The girl behind the counter gives me a sympathetic smile when she hands over my latte.
I’m trying to decide where to go next—maybe the bakery—when I run into a wall outside the shop. “Oh! Sweetie!”
I recognize one of the women from last night. She had lipstick on her teeth. It’s gone now as she puts a hand on my arm and squeezes hard. “It was all so terrible, wasn’t it?” she murmurs, leaning in close.
“I do not envy your poor mother,” her friend moans. “To have something so ugly blasted out to everyone in attendance?”
“Is it true?” Lipstick Teeth stares at me with way too much intensity, like she can see inside my head if she tries hard enough. What a shock. They don’t actually care about Mom or me. They want to know if he was telling the truth, so they can go home and get on the phone and spread fresh gossip to all their friends.
I’m mute like a deer in headlights, searching for a way out.
“Well, just the person I wanted to see.” A booming voice calls out, getting closer.
It has to be straight karma that my escape would be Joseph fucking Lowry. My stomach drops, and I almost lose my coffee too, nearly burning my hand when I squeeze a little too hard to keep a hold of it.
It’s like magic. The two women who were basically bullying me scatter. He stands with his hands on his hips, his chest heaving, his eyes narrowing under the brim of his hat. It’s like he’s cosplaying as a cowboy. “Did my son spend the night with you?” he asks flat out. He doesn’t even bother lowering his voice.