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)
“Where are the pills?”
Her head snapped up at the sound of my voice. I knew my anger had crept into my tone, but I wanted her to hear it. What she’d done was incredibly stupid. When I thought of what would have happened had her plan succeeded, I shuddered. Sean and I would still be passed out, and Skylar would be dead.
“In my room.”
I stood, holding out my hand. “Let’s go.”
She ignored my outstretched palm, rose to her feet silently, and walked in front of me. I tried hard not to notice how my shirt looked on her or the way it touched the back of her thighs as she moved. I especially tried hard not to notice how her hips swayed as she walked or the way the back of the damp T-shirt clung to the curve of her ass. I’d never removed her underwear, putting her into bed with them wet from the bath. The fabric clung to her curves like a second skin. I shook my head, knowing I needed to ignore those feelings right now.
I followed her into the bathroom, watching as she unzipped the small bag I’d looked in the other day. She pulled out a small tube and opened it, spilling some pills into her palm. I pulled on her wrist, tipping her hand over the sink and washing the pills down the drain. She didn’t say a word.
“Are there more?”
She hesitated. “No. I have no more sleeping pills.”
I grabbed the bag, ignoring her gasp and dumped it on the small counter. I dug through the small cylinders and grabbed three that weren’t still in wrappers. Skylar reached for them, but I pushed her back, shaking my head, glaring at her. Something in my expression was enough for her to actually step back and lower her hands obediently. I yanked the containers apart, pouring the thick white pills into the palm of my hand, studying them, shocked.
“Skylar,” I began through gritted teeth, “where did you get this much oxycodone?”
She shifted restlessly, her voice low and shaky. “My dad.”
“Why do you have it?” I looked at her. “It’s highly addictive.”
“I don’t take it.”
“Why?” I demanded again. “What were you planning on doing with them?”
“I sold a few when I was really hungry,” she whispered.
Jesus. She was selling drugs to eat. On the street. Alone.
“Do you know how dangerous that is?” I hissed, not even bothering to try to hide my anger this time. “Someone could have easily killed you over these!”
Her eyes flashed at me. “Sometimes, Cian, when you haven’t eaten for a few days and you realize it’s either sell a few pills or your body, you choose the thing you can live with a little easier.”
I struggled to stay calm, breathing in a few deep breaths. I reminded myself she was here—safe. She wasn’t on the street anymore, and she never would be again. Simply thinking about what could have happened to her made me nauseous. For the first time, I was grateful she’d snuck into the warehouse that night.
I kept my voice soft when I spoke. “Is that all you were doing with them?”
She didn’t answer. I lifted her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Was this part of your exit plan as well?” I asked.
She pulled back, her chin jutting out in defiance. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.” She tried to grab for my hand. “Give me those!”
I held my hand up higher. “No.”
“Please, Cian—I might need them!”
I gripped her arm with my free hand, pulling her against me. “You. Won’t. Need. Them.”
With one flick of my wrist, I tossed them all in the sink, the running water washing them away.
She began to sob, pummeling my chest with her fists. I kept my arm loosely wrapped around her and let her cry, watching to make sure all the pills were gone. Once I was satisfied, I shut off the water. I spun her around, sitting her on the closed toilet seat, and checked the rest of her bag, making sure there were no other surprises. I hunched down in front of her. “Are there any other pills?”
She shook her head.
“Skylar.”
I waited until she lifted her chin so I could look into her eyes. She was a terrible liar, and her eyes betrayed her all the time. “Is there anything else you have that would harm you?”
“No,” she cried out.
She was telling the truth.
I pulled her against me, rocking her. “Good.”
Skylar shifted at the table, her fingers drawing small circles on the wood. Over and over, she repeated the pattern. After she stopped crying, I’d left her in her room to get dressed in dry clothes and told her to meet me in the kitchen. I let the soup warm up again, knowing we needed to eat before we talked.