Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 112884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Stupid,” she admits, “like I knew what Trent was saying half the time was wrong, but then I doubted myself and all my choices without his input.”
“It’s what they do, it’s like they tell you how you should do things and then turn it around and make it seem like it was your idea.”
“Yes.” She shrugs. “I’m just sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”
“Everything happens when it’s supposed to happen,” I tell her.
“It was that night,” she says softly, “hearing what he had to say about my father.” She shakes her head and the tear that she has kept at bay this whole time escapes, and my other hand comes up to catch it. “It was like you threw cold water on me.”
“Lexi,” I say her name softly, the ache to kiss her is almost too painful to bear, “you beat him at his own game.” I cup her cheek in my hand. “For the rest of his life he’s going to know he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.” I stare into her eyes and take a second before I let go of her face.
“Thank you, for everything.”
I nod at her; not sure I can be in her space much longer. I get up and she follows me. “I should get home and get my things sorted.”
“Of course,” she says. “Do you want me to pack up the roll?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You have it.” I wish we could be eating it in her bed after I fuck her senseless. “Thank you for the tour,” I say when I get to the door and take a step to her to hug her. I wrap both arms around her, closing my eyes and feeling her in my arms; it’s my own brand of torture. “Have a good night,” I say when I finally let her go and walk out the door.
She stands at the door, watching me drive away, her hand held up with a smile on her face, my heart feeling like it’s being crushed in my chest. “This is not good for you,” I tell myself, “and it’s not good for her.” I swallow the lump down, knowing I’m going to have to just walk away from her. “You have to let her go.” The thought alone crushes me. “You just have to hope she comes back to you.” I blink away my own tears. “But even if she doesn’t, you know she’s finally fucking safe, and that means everything.”
twenty-seven
Lexi
My phone beeps and I look down.
Marley:
I have to give them an answer on Monday. Let me know if you can talk tomorrow.
I’m about to answer her when the phone rings and I see it’s Kylie.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Kylie says. “Is that enough time?”
“I’m putting on my shoes now, and I have to grab my jacket,” I huff out, tying my shoelaces. “I’ll be outside, you don’t even have to stop. Just open the door, I’ll jump in.”
“Open the door.” She snorts. “I thought you would challenge yourself by jumping through my sunroof.”
“Ohhh, that’s even better,” I joke, standing up when both white sneakers are tied. “See you soon.” I hang up the phone, walking back into the bathroom. I pick up my perfume and spray some on my shirt, two on each side of my neck, and then one on each wrist. I step into the spare bedroom, taking one more look at my outfit of black jeans that fit me tighter than they did last week, and I can’t help but smile big. The black T-shirt is tucked into the front as I grab the short, blue jean jacket, putting it on and rolling the cuffs before grabbing my small black Chanel bag and putting it across my body.
“This screams, yay sports.” I turn and see how good my ass looks in these jeans. “I hope it also screams, please grab my ass, Kirby,” I mumble, then stop thinking that when I hear the sound of the horn honking. “Shit.” I run out the front door. “Sorry,” I say and she looks at me, “I was trying to find my shoes with springs so I could jump into your SUV.”
She can’t help but laugh at me as I get into her SUV and then lean over to kiss her cheek. “You look so good.” I look at her cargo jean pants with a white, long-sleeve shirt that shows off her stomach, a baseball hat on her head with the Warriors logo across it. At the side it has his number 77 and his name stitched in it. “Like the hat.”
“I stole it from Kirby,” she states, pulling out and making her way over to the arena. “I wore it to see if he notices,” she says and I shake my head. “I bet you five hundred dollars he doesn’t.”