Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
This is the place where everything inside me nearly came unhinged, where I almost became something else, and the air still smells faintly of gunpowder, metal, and fear. My stomach clenches, but Roxie’s fingers lace through mine, warm and steady.
“We’ll fix it,” she says, her voice small but sure. “All of it. I promise. It might even end up being fun.”
I nod, but she says “we” like it’s the easiest thing in the world. What she doesn’t know is that standing here makes my skin crawl with the memory of how close I come to losing myself. Losing her. Losing every last trace of me that desperately wants to be part of that “we.”
That night, as I expected, I fought two battles. There was the one with the men trying to kill us, but that one was easy. Much easier than I thought. The locals Caruso hired were probably the best this area had to offer, but they weren’t as well trained as Boone and me, or as resourceful in a fight as Dillon.
The other battle, however, was one I damn near lost. The one with the darkness inside me that wanted those men’s blood with an inhuman thirst.
But in the end, I didn’t kill a single person. Not one. I stopped every threat, but I didn’t cross that line. I just haven’t decided yet if that makes me relieved or deeply, deeply unsettled.
Boone walks in behind us, sighing as he moves his hands to his hips and surveys the damage. “Wow. It looks a lot fucking worse in the cold light of day, huh?”
Dillon rakes a hand along the stubble on his jaw. His blue eyes narrow, but then he perks up almost immediately.
“You know, a lot of this stuff was getting pretty outdated anyway,” he says happily. “It might just be fun, furnishing the house together for a family rather than a bunch of bachelors.”
“That’s what I said.” Roxie grins at him. “Well, the part about it potentially being fun. I didn’t even think about how your needs might’ve changed now that there are babies on the way.”
“Our needs,” Boone stresses, seemingly without even thinking, as he starts picking through the debris. “I think we’re going to have to divide and conquer if we want to get this done today. Everyone pick a room and start taking pictures?”
We nod one by one, then spend the next few hours walking around the house, documenting every crack and hole, and every little thing that needs to be replaced. Somewhere between the ruined staircase and the kitchen where the table lies splintered in half, the mood between us all seems to shift.
Roxie picks up a fallen paint chip from the wall and arches her brows at me. “Okay, but if we have to repaint anyway, maybe that midnight blue I showed you wouldn’t be so crazy.”
I snort. “The one that makes the room look like a moody vampire lives here?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” she says lightly. “A tasteful, moody vampire.”
“Uh-huh.” I sigh, but she’s smiling, and damn if that doesn’t flip something in my chest.
Boone strides into the kitchen from upstairs, darkening the doorway for only a moment before he heads for the oven and turns it on. “Dillon and I have pictures of everything upstairs. The gym and the rest of it downstairs came through unscathed. Most of the damage seems to be contained to this floor.”
He crosses to the counter where we’ve left the groceries that don’t need refrigeration and starts unpacking. “Dinner is going to have to be simple tonight. Why don’t you guys keep me company while I cook, and we’ll pick up again tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.” Roxie drops onto one of the stools at the island and pulls out her phone. “We can go through some photos for inspiration while we’re here.”
“I’ve got some ideas already,” Dillon says as he walks in and drops onto the stool beside her. Without missing a beat, he leans closer to look at her screen over her shoulder. “Oh, I like those couches. They look obscenely comfortable. Let’s add those to your cart.”
Their chatter continues as she switches from one retailer to another, and I help Boone chop some vegetables before we all end up sitting on the floor, surrounded by debris and paint chips, talking about design ideas like this is a reality show audition and not a crime scene.
Strangely, even though this isn’t my thing at all, it helps me slowly stop feeling so haunted. We’re planning a future, the sun sinks behind the ridge, and the house is quiet.
My chest loosens as I drink it all in, realizing that the worst really is behind us. We map out a dozen possible new layouts, argue about cabinet handles, and decide the kitchen should have warm wood instead of white because Dillon will destroy the white cabinets in a week.