Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“You think she’ll come out?”
“I guess we’ll see. I checked her cuts after you, ah, left the room so quickly, and I had a little chat with her. I think she’ll cooperate.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think she scared herself a little today. She’s tired as well, since she was up all night in escape mode.”
“Her cuts?”
“Sore, but they’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I exhaled deeply. “One move, though, and the door is locked.”
“Understood.”
A short while later, Skylar hesitantly slipped into the room. She had a book in her hand and, after looking around nervously, made a beeline to the corner of the sofa and curled up. She didn’t say anything, opening her book and beginning to read. Sean looked over from his paper then put his head back down. I kept going through the file I was working on, glancing up every so often. A couple times, I met Sean’s calm gaze. Once, I caught Skylar’s eye and was rewarded with the smallest hint of a smile. I felt my own lips curl up in response before her head dipped down again. I felt a flicker of warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. A few times, I saw her glance out the window, but she wasn’t looking for ways to escape. Instead, she looked almost grateful to be inside and out of the weather. Maybe Sean was right and she was ready to cooperate.
Folding the paper, Sean stood and stretched. “I’m going for a nap. Will the two of you behave?”
Skylar nodded and I snorted.
“Get out of here, old man.”
Silence filled the room after he left, broken only by the gusts of wind outside and the muted turn of the pages from Skylar’s book. Looking over, I noticed she appeared uncomfortable. She was holding the book awkwardly, trying to use as little of her hands as possible. “Do your hands hurt?” I asked quietly.
Her startled gaze met mine. “A little.”
I stood. “Stay.”
I went into the kitchen, coming back with water and some Tylenol. “These will help.”
Her fingers grazed mine as she took the glass, and I grimaced. “Skylar, your hands are freezing.”
She shrugged. I sat on the table in front of her and gently wrapped my hands around her smaller ones. For a minute, she was tense, but then she relaxed and let the heat of my skin soak into hers. I noticed she had her feet tucked under the cushion. “Are your feet cold, too?”
She nodded. “My socks aren’t very thick.”
I left the room again, returning with a thick pair of mine, which I handed to her. “These will warm you up.”
Her nervous eyes met mine as she took them. “Thank you.”
Leaning forward, she struggled to put them on. Realizing how sore her hands must be, I sat back down and lifted her leg into my lap. I pulled the sock onto her foot, then swiftly did the same with the other one. Feeling how cold her feet were even through the socks, I briskly rubbed them before setting them back on the couch.
“Better?”
She nodded.
I took in a deep breath. “I know you don’t like or trust me, but I don’t want you cold or scared to be in the same room as me, Skylar. If you need something, ask. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Good.”
She bit her lip. “Do you have a pen?”
I was confused. “A pen?”
She held up another small book. “Sean brought me some crossword puzzle books. But I don’t have a pen.”
I hesitated, and she smiled at me mischievously. “I’ll give it back. Promise.”
Chuckling, I nodded. “They’re in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I can sit at the table. That’ll be easier.”
I picked up my laptop and followed her into the kitchen. I put a few pens in the middle of the table, letting her pick which one she wanted, and sat down. She sat beside me, opening her book. I tried to concentrate on the screen, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. She was looking rather adorable. She was wearing the sweatshirt I’d given her the night she got here over her clothes, no doubt for added warmth. It was far too big on her, yet I liked seeing it hang from her shoulders. Her hair was down, a dark ribbon of silk down her back. She chewed absently on the end of the pen, her small teeth nibbling the plastic. When she would fill in a word, she held the pen awkwardly in her fingers, and I noticed the letters were messy and a small grimace crossed her face at times as she wrote.
She frowned. “What’s a five-letter word for garden decoration?”
“Hmmm. Bench?”
“No.”
“Fence?”
“No. It starts with a G.”
“Gnome.”
“Oh. I never thought of that as a decoration.”
“What do you think of gnomes as?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Scary little devils. I don’t like them, and I certainly wouldn’t put one in my garden.”