Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Those words knock me out of the fog, and my pulse stutters for a second as I scramble to regain my composure. I look from her to the frame in my hands, trying to push down my emotions.
“No, please don’t.” My voice comes out more desperate than I mean for it to, and I take a step toward her, trying to steady myself. “I’m just here getting a quote for…the owner. I had a key to let myself in.” The lie comes easy, and I motion to the boarded-up windows and hope she didn’t hear or see me nailing it back up. “It’s going to cost a lot to get this place up and running,” I add, trying to play the part as much as possible but also telling the truth as I gently hang the picture back where it belongs.
I turn back to the woman, hoping I don’t look as anxious and torn apart from the inside out as I feel. “Do you think you could maybe not mention you saw me?” Her face pinches instantly, and I quickly add, “It’s just that I want to work out some details before I send her that final quote, see if I can get the cost down at all. And if she knows that I came by already, she’ll be expecting it, and I just don’t want to add to the worries.” I swipe my hand across my mouth to hide the swallow.
The woman sighs and looks around the space, a bit of sadness in her expression. “Yeah, I can do that. Lord knows the poor thing doesn’t need any more of that. She comes down here at least once a month and tries, but she can’t do much on her own, you know?”
I smile but it feels empty. “Thanks. I’ll lock up and head out soon. Have a good afternoon.”
The woman nods and walks off, and I wait a moment to follow.
I don’t remember driving back. It’s like my body is on autopilot, moving without me. I barely feel the weight of my hands on the wheel, the engine humming beneath me. My thoughts are on fire and running a mile a minute.
The SUV rolls slowly to a stop, just a few feet from the big cement sign welcoming me back to campus. I used to smile when I saw it, but now it feels cold and impersonal, like everything else in my life right now.
No that’s not right.
I don’t feel cold. There is a fire in my veins and it’s only burning hotter with every step I take.
There’s something suffocating in my chest, but I don’t even care. I don’t care that my hands are shaking or that my heart feels like it’s raging inside my chest.
I enter the building, and the older woman behind the desk waves me over with a smile.
“I can help you here,” she calls.
I step forward and push the envelope toward her.
The woman frowns slightly, her gaze flicking between me and it, but she doesn’t question me. She just picks it up, tearing open the top that’s still sealed, and pulls out a small rectangular paper from inside. She reads it for a second before glancing back at me.
“Registration and room and board?” she asks, still smiling.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay.” She starts typing something into her computer, her fingers moving quickly. “Student ID, please.”
I hand it over.
I don’t know how long I wait after that—seconds, minutes, or longer—but eventually, she slides a piece of paper toward me. “You can register in forty-eight hours,” she tells me. “But don’t delay beyond that. Classes are already filling up.”
I nod again, turn, and walk out, knowing exactly what follows.
Forty-eight hours and the check will clear.
Forty-eight hours and she’ll be leaving with her grandfather for a three-and-a-half-week trip around Europe, coming home just two days before the start of the semester.
I drop onto the first bench I find, staring out at nothing and thinking about everything.
Forty-eight hours.
I can make it through forty-eight hours without losing my damn mind.
After that?
Who the fuck knows.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Chase
I watch her move around the room, darting from the dresser to her suitcase making sure everything is in perfect order. She’s so damn excited, and it’s painful to see. The look in her eyes when she talks about her trip, the happiness and freedom, it’s everything she deserves. And I’m about to take it away from her. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut.
I can’t tell her. Not now. Not when she’s so happy, so ready to leave and just be.
When’s the last time she’s taken a trip?
Never. She’s never really had that. Her dad got sick when she was in high school, and then he died when she got to college, and she’s been here working her ass off ever since. Trying to build a life where she can have these things, but the world is cruel and had to take from her again.