Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Lettie was too young to understand. She couldn’t see the kind of man Bill really was. Or maybe it was because he never laid a hand on her. He was a drunk with no money, no ambition, and a job that was always temporary. He managed to convince my mom to give him access to my college fund. And from the fights I could hear, he’d gambled my entire future away. Everything my parents had saved… was gone.
I despised my mom for her poor decisions. For not putting her children before her desperation. And worst of all, I missed my dad so damn much. He was my hero. He took care of me. He was supposed to teach me how to ride a bike, threaten my first boyfriend about curfew, and walk me down the aisle at my wedding. But when he died, everything changed. All the love I’d known died with him. My mom was so consumed by her own grief that she never thought to check if her children were okay or if we felt loved. Looking back, it makes sense how I ended up on that dark path. I just wanted someone to love me, to notice me. And that’s exactly what Mr. Bishop did.
Henry Bishop.
Julian Valley High’s favorite English teacher.
He saw me—really saw me—in a way no one else ever had. His smile was warm, genuine, like I was someone worth listening to, someone who mattered. When he sat beside me, patiently absorbing every frustration and every fear I spilled, I knew he truly cared. And when he reached for my hand, when he pulled me into the kind of hugs I’d long since stopped expecting, I felt something I hadn’t in years. Safe. Wanted. Like I finally belonged to someone who wouldn’t just leave.
It wasn’t my plan—to fall into… something with him. Was it love? Or just the desperate need to be loved? I don’t know. Maybe I never did.
But the emotional connection wasn’t enough.
I don’t know whose fault it was, who blurred the lines first. Maybe it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way it felt when we finally crossed that line—like I had stepped into a world where I wasn’t invisible. For the first time, I was seen. Emotionally. Physically. Completely.
But even that came crashing down. Reality hit hard, unraveling the illusion I had clung to so desperately. The weight of it—the wrongness, the inevitable fallout—sank its claws into me, tearing away the one thing that had ever made me feel whole. And just like everything else, even he was ripped away from me.
I suppose that’s what happens when you spend your life searching for something you were never meant to have. Craving attention, validation—someone to see you, to want you. Maybe that’s why I didn’t stop it. Why did I let it happen? Because when you grow up chasing the love you never had, the lines between right and wrong start to blur.
I shake off the memory.
As soon as Noah shifts the car into park, I jump out and stride toward the elevator without waiting for him. Pressing the button for the tenth floor, he slides in just as the door closes. I exhale slowly, trying to center my thoughts on whatever Mr. Blake has in store for me today rather than on Noah. The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and I step out, ignoring Noah, heading toward his father's office.
“Where are you going? The call center is this way,” Noah says. I look back, taking in the frown pulling at his lips.
“Your father’s office. I’m working with him today.”
His brows shoot up. “What? No, you’re not.” He storms toward me, and I brace for whatever fight he has in store. Instead, he brushes past me, heading down the corridor toward his father’s office. I hurry after, catching the start of their argument as I walk in.
“What the fuck?”
“Morning to you too, son.”
“Georgia’s in the call center.”
Mr. Blake takes a seat behind his large desk, less than pleased at his son’s outburst. “She’s with me today.”
“No.” Noah shakes his head. “I don’t think so. She’s at the—”
Mr. Blake stands, pressing his palms against the top of his desk. “This is business, Noah. I will not have you coming into my office and showing me disrespect.”
“Business, huh?” Noah shakes his head again. “Whatever you say.” Facing me, he says, “Watch yourself with him,” then walks out, leaving me to stare at his back until he’s out of sight.
“Sorry about that.”
I shift my attention to Mr. Blake. “What was that about?”
“As you know, my son can be a bit challenging at times.” Mr. Blake’s tone is dismissive, shutting down any opportunity for further discussion. I can’t help but replay Noah’s words in my mind.
“Watch yourself with him.”
What did he mean by that?
Mr. Blake gestures toward the conference table in the corner of his office. I take his cue and move to sit as he follows, settling across from me. “As you may know, if you’ve done your research, which I hope you have, we are the leading global distributor of raw materials,” he begins. “Our clients span multiple industries, including industrial manufacturing, automotive production, packaging, and construction. If it’s practical and essential, we supply it.”