Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
His fist. That he plants on my jaw.
I was counting on that. It was either him laying it on me or me laying one on him, and I didn’t want to. Not after how I used him before. So riling him up was the only solution. Although I wasn’t prepared for what he says next:
“And for a man who’s doin’ all this for love, you’ve got no fuckin’ idea what love really is, do you?”
He’s right. I don’t. I quite possibly never did. Which is why none of this, these three weeks, these dresses, can ever mean anything.
HE DIDN’T COME.
Not that I was expecting him to, but still. He didn’t show up for lunch. Which was okay because he did say he had some things to do, and if what he said was true and not just an excuse to get me out of there after what happened this morning, then his absence was almost expected. I’m just not sure how to explain his absence from dinner once again when Haven lets it slip that she specifically told him she wanted him there after she slaved over the pot roast all day. Even Marsden showed up for it.
So basically, I haven’t seen him or heard from him all day, not after that parole officer incident, and it’s the middle of the night now. I think it’s safe to say it’s over and I should stop overthinking and overanalyzing things. It’s only going to hurt me more. Besides, I have a lifetime to drown in my sorrows, so I should probably focus on what’s happening right now.
Seeing as how my best friend is dragging me through the woods in the middle of the night with a map and a flashlight.
We’ve been walking for what seems like hours, but I’m sure it’s only been about thirty minutes. I’m hot and sweaty and extremely anxious, cursing that I ended up here when I promised myself I’d never set foot in the woods again. Actually, no, I promised myself I’d never set foot in the woods without him to keep me safe. Something I’m only realizing now as I jump over yet another fallen branch. Woods are scary, but he’s scarier. I need that and…
Don’t think about him.
I crash into Peyton when she stops, her nose buried in the map with her flashlight shining down on it. I mutter my apology, but she doesn’t care because a second later, she looks up and goes, “This is it.”
I look at what she’s looking at. “This doesn’t look like a barn.”
No, it looks like a cabin. The kind that he brought me to in the beginning. Although this one’s more unkempt and dilapidated than his hunting cabin, with a broken railing and rickety stairs. There’s also a couple of slats missing from the very small front porch. Not to mention, this one seems to be deeper in the woods than the other one was. Or maybe it just looks that way, with thick trees surrounding it in the middle of a half-moon night.
Peyton lowers the map, folds it, and puts it in a small pack she’s carrying on her back. I still can’t believe she came this prepared. When she shared her plan while we were cleaning up after dinner, I once again reminded her that she’s reaching. That maybe we should find another angle because I don’t think there’s anything here.
But she wouldn’t listen.
And honestly, after that crazy hunch about the safe that I got myself, I couldn’t blame her. Which was probably why I didn’t really sound as convincing as I could have. But I never thought she’d sneak out to my room when it was time to get me. She even brought a bottle of water—two bottles—with her in a backpack, as if we were really just going camping or hiking in the dead of night.
“I know,” she says, almost skipping on her feet in excitement. “The only reason I picked it to check out first was because it was so deep in the woods. I thought if they were trying to hide something, they’d probably go for a spot like this.”
“If they were trying to hide something, why would they put it on a map?” I retort, glancing at her out the corner of my eye, trying to sound all bold when my heart is racing in my chest.
“Maybe because they thought hiding in plain sight is better than actually hiding something,” she retorts back, glancing at me the same way.
I let out an anxious breath. “So what do we do now?”
“We do what we came here to do,” she says, walking forward as calm as you please like we’re not doing anything remotely dangerous and troubling. “We check it out.”
By that she means going around the front porch, spying a dirt-streaked window on the side, and going on our tiptoes to look inside. Well, she’s at least being a little cautious about things. Even though I don’t think there’s anything here worth finding, I still don’t want us to walk into something dangerous. Besides, spying or not, neither of us is supposed to be here at all.